Two men are standing out in a small back garden. They are wearing shorts. They have no shoes on. And are trying to look like this is the sort of situation they find themselves in all of the time. They have bottles of beer in their hands. One bottle per person, just to make you sure. There's no use getting twisted about by faulty grammar when you don't need to. Don't worry I'm here to help just ask if you have any questions about where the story is headed.

A reader: Are they gay?

No, at least not as far as I'm aware. One of them is sporting a wedding ring and the other one is covered pretty much from hairline to hemline in ointment of the tan blocking kind, which was applied to him by a woman just before I started telling this story. Not, of course, that that means anything of course. But certainly the subject is on their minds I can see that now. They are actively, subconsciously, considering a question at the moment which is how long can we stand here chatting to each other before people think we're gay. Well, they think, we've got beer in our hands (they seem to think that gay men don't drink beer which is a bit odd). But, they think, the beer has limes in it and besides they are wearing floral shirts, Hawaiian perhaps but still floral, and so one of them hits upon an idea and says "Shall we see about this barbeque?"

"Yes that sounds capital" intimates the other.

A reader: "Why the quotes? Did he actually say that?"

No he intimated it. But I take your point.

So off they go and get things for a barbeque. The actual device itself, some coal, a really big fork and so on. The one who is covered in Sun tan lotion goes into the Kitchen to "tell them we're getting ready" and for more beer and he comes out wearing and apron which says, and I almost hesitate to write this now, "kiss the cock" on it. And it has a picture of a, well, well a rooster on it, actually to try and ease any frail minds.