To BBQ or not to BBQ

The shopkeeper looked at me oddly. I couldn't see why. Then I realised what I was buying - the new Harry Potter... and a box of matches.

Honestly, they were unrelated purchases. The Harry Potter was for reading. The matches were for starting fires. Well one fire. A barbecue. The Second Annual Barbecue Extravaganza.

It was a bit shit. Well, that's not quite fair. We had fun. But if you were to judge the barbecue solely on the success of, well, the barbecue, then yes, it was a bit shit. Erica, Dean and I lugged our gallons of meat (of course meat comes in gallons, fool) to Victoria Park, as the sun peeked out from behind a voluminous blue cloud.

We set up our disposable barbecue somewhere where we knew we wouldn't burn the grass (we learned that lesson the hard way at the First Annual Barbecue Extravaganza). We lit the first match. It went straight out. We lit the second match. It went straight out. We lit the third match. It went straight out. I could go on for quite a while. There were forty matches in my non-book-burning box of matches.

The barbecue finally lit! For three seconds. Then it went out again. It started to rain. Erica's hands went a bit blue. Dean looked like he might cry. We threw away the barbecue, came back to my flat and grilled the burgers. All was good.

We saw Hairspray at the cinema. It was actually a lot of fun. Recommended. Erica and I thought it was a bit gay, but Dean loved it. We had already decided though that Dean is a retarded gay racist. This is perhaps a separate subject.

We failed to postpone the barbecue until Sunday as the lying BBC promised rain all day. Sunday was glorious. The bastards. So TheBloke (TM) joined us and we went to London Aquarium (Erica is scared of fish so it was a bit like a horror film for her) and then had drinks and food on the South Bank. We spent a lot of the time in the Aquarium deciding which fish were evil and which were good. We decided this by working out whether or not they'd be on Wallace and Gromit's side, if it came to it. Most of them weren't.

Later in the restaurant we spent quite a long time deciding whether or not you could walk across a pool full of hummous. We decided that you probably could with a pool of custard, but you'd need tennis-racquet shoes to do the same with hummous.

Tip-top weekend.