Let the navel-gazing and chin-scratching hereby cease. And let the BBQ’ing commence.
Actually, that’s a fair old discussion point. How do you spell BBQ? Our in-house News Ltd style guide says it’s barbecue, not barbeque, never B-B-Q and only BBQ when used in headlines.
Which of god’s beasts are you sizzling today? What else is burning you up this weekend? Oh, and got a better caption suggestion for the pic above?
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A few months ago, when Max was safely out of the country, I did something so shocking that it’s turned our 10-year relationship on its axis.
I pensioned off our flame-throwing, four-burner, char-beast from hell and bought a WeberQ (with built-in thermometer and a higher lid to allow for the baking of large roasts).
The time had come. While it had been nice to sit back and watch Max reducing scotch fillets to crusts of carbon, I always dreamed of a better way.
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