Photo By Jools Thatcher

Photo By Jools Thatcher

The theme for this week’s JVG Radio Method poem is “BBQ Day 2010”, performed live at the Ninth Annual RRR BBQ Day in front of a great crowd. (That’s two live to airs in a row)

There goes another year. Thanks to everyone there for your support.

Play this poem directly in your browser! Just click the “play” button below:

Also have a listen to my album “Drifter

BBQ Day 2010

“Pig” Mills’ casual comment was innocuous enough
The snags were raw inside while the chops were burnt and tough

“Pig” may have found them wanting, but not enough to stop
He devoured a dozen snags and was on his seventh chop

A shameless gormandizer and a fan of barbequing
His jaw, he moaned, still eating, ached from all the chewing

While necessity, no doubt, is the mother of invention
Sometimes it takes a moron to grab necessity’s attention

“Pig” the meat exhausted, polished off the sauce and bread
“Spanner” Chaplee sat in silence drawing blueprints in his head

He stared down at the barbie, a few bricks piled carelessly
Cradling a drum that once held DDT

He set to work collecting what others might discard
Ferreting through car wrecks that adorned the Chaplee’s yard

Cogs and cams and cables, sprockets, shafts and gears
Vacuum cleaners, fridges that hadn’t worked in years

A chain from this, a belt from that, a bolt, a switch, a clip
Whatever else he needed he scavenged from the tip

Saturday, as usual, “Pig” and all the crew
Gathered round at “Spanners” for their weekly barbeque

It was “Rabbit” who noticed the old brick grill was gone
In it’s place, “The Chaplee Meat-o-matic Barbetron”

The frame, cut from the chassis of a Humber Super Snipe
Air injectors forged from recycled sewerage pipe

The flue, once the barrel of a First World War Stokes Mortar
The bonnet from an Oldsmobile shielded it from water

A Matilda Mark 2 Tank supplied the three inch thick steel plate
An FJ Holden flywheel allowed it to rotate

Drive chain and sprockets from a Beesa Golden Flash
The motor from a Whirlpool, salvaged from the trash

Rissoles, uniform – hand fed through the wringer
The snags, gently pricked by the needle on a Singer

A camshaft rolled the sausages each time the hotplate turned
Guaranteed an even tan – not one snag was burned

The fire box, a pig trough where the spare ribs used to graze
A condom filled with holes oozed a soy and honey glaze

A dozen Victa Mower blades, each fashioned like a scythe
Bolted to the tub of a Simpson Fluid Drive

It washed, then sliced the colslaw, eliminating toil
As the soap dispenser drizzled vinegar and oil

“Pig” Mills did the honours, scoffed a T-Bone in one bite
Licked his lips – then faltered – something wasn’t right

“Squirrel” nailed the problem in a moment of reflection
Barbeques were never meant to cook with such perfection

So it was pre-history and so it is today
The scourge of barbies everywhere, that dreaded word “Gourmet”

In the time of hunter gatherers, we lived and cooked in fear
Now instead of tetradactyl it’s chicken wings and beer

We all need things to worry about – like whether it’s going to rain
What host denies their guests reasonable cause to complain

So what if it’s black and raw inside, that’s all par for the course
The reason God, in her infinite wisdom, gave us Tomato Sauce

Every grill has a silver lining, nothing needs to be binned
Given, charcoal tastes like crap but they reckon it helps relieve wind

Maybe it is carcinogenic, but everything is these days
Nothing like a touch of Salmonella to spice up the mayonnaise

“Spanner” dismantled the “Barbetron” and copped the dent to his pride
Went back to the bricks and old metal drum with its bouquet of herbicide

A visionary way ahead of his time? Or naive in the extreme?
When it comes to science and barbeques, creationists reign supreme

© Copyright 2010 Ian Bland

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