Michael Cargill

Regular updates of sarcastic and irreverent nonsense.

Tag Archives: bbq

The timely return of agony aunt Nurse Ratched

nurse ratchedHey, y’all.

I’ve been rather fixated with the weather recently, what with summer finally making its way to these delicate green shores of ours.  It’s the perfect time of year to invite my most hated relatives around for a BBQ; I just love watching them gradually become more and more sunburnt as they gorge recklessly on a mountain of half raw chicken and limp pasta salad.  Never let it be said that the sun ever fails to put a smile on my face.

Dear Nurse Ratched

Now that the warm weather has arrived, I’d like to buy some garden furniture so the family can eat outside.  However, my husband wants to keep the old stuff we’ve had for years. Can you help?

Deary, in times like this you need to ask yourself just one question: “What would a football hooligan do?” And the answer to that is “throw bricks and knives until he gets what he wants.”
I recommend buying a set of darts and fixing them to the underside of the garden table.  Look around in the charity shops first as they’ll be cheap and covered in rust if you’re lucky. When you get back home loosen the screws on the table and the whole lot will come crashing down on Hubby when he finally gets round to setting it all up!  If you manage to pierce an eyeball or two then not only will it serve as ample punishment for his miserly ways, it’ll also leave you in full control of any further decisions about the garden furniture.

If that doesn’t work you should kill yourself.

Dear Nurse Ratched

I was looking forward to several weeks of drunken BBQs but my girlfriend has suddenly decided she wants to be a vegetarian. What can I do to salvage my summer?

Oh dear, this is serious business. I once briefly flirted with vegetarianism until I realised what would happen to all those poor, defenceless animals if no-one was willing to chop their flesh up into nice little steaks and shove them under a grill – they’d be left to starve and rot in the fields all on their little lonesome.  Can you imagine the detrimental effect that would have on house prices?  I suggest you alert your girlfriend to these pitfalls by leading a herd of bulls into her house in the middle of the night. Once they’ve torn up her carpets, defecated in her kitchen, and farted in her underwear drawer she’ll be more than thankful for your timely educational intervention. If the opportunity arises I recommend holding her down so that she can be gored once or twice, just to be sure that the message is driven home.

If that doesn’t work you should kill yourself.

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