Audio version: West London Man (1) – With the first hot weekend of summer
And so… with the first hot weekend of summer… West London Man (WLM) has been to Sainsburys Homebase, purchased some charcoal, and a new barbecue. He has been to Macken Brothers in Chiswick for choice cuts of meat and sausages and he has petrol or firelighters. West London Man is also mildly inebriated and about to commit the first of many social atrocities of the coming summer.
Ordinarily, West London Man does not cook. He is a City professional or in Telly… somewhere. He eats sushi by day and M&S prepared meals by night – or eats out. It is possible that West London Man drives an Audi, BMW or Mercedes… anything is possible…. but not saloons, of course…. and he may well have paid more for a model with no roof… for better road visibility… of him.
It is curious how men who do not know how to cook, never cook at home, suddenly find themselves possessed of chef skills when the first hot summer sun appears. The barbecue is set up. West London wife / girlfriend looks on with mounting horror / amusement / disdain / love / adoration (*) as WLM puts a butcher’s apron on. WLM would never, of course, be so crass as to have one of those comedy aprons with an image of a woman in black underwear and stockings printed on it. He may well be crass enough, over the age of 16, to wear cut off trousers and be wearing a pink or pale blue polo shirt – but he does not wear comedy barbecue aprons. Barbecues are serious matters…. pour hommes.
(*) It depends on how long WLM and Mrs WLM have been married / going out.
He has injected his tiger prawns with Chili dip sauce purchased from a West London supermarket. He has marinaded his steaks in yet another sauce purchased from a supermarket and his sausages are made from very rare pigs and a herb mix designed to appeal to the West London palate by cunning ‘traditional’ butchers.
WLM is now ready to begin. With the panache of a conductor at The Proms – he ignites the coals, pouring petrol onto the charcoal. There is clapping from the assembled men who, like our ancestors when they first saw fire, marvelled. WHOOOOSH….. the barbecue is on fire… there is no escort of Chinese athletes in London this time. The light of cullinary freedom is lit. The music is .. Also sprach Zarathustra… The next thing WLM has to do is…. prepare the Pimms – another popular summer barbecue drink, conjuring up images of the Far East of Somerset Maugham.
Of course, West London Man is driven… he works in the City (or is something in Telly) and this particular one hasn’t got any idea at all about cooking. He cannot wait. On go the steaks, the prawns, the sausages… into the flames of Hades. The baked potatoes, salad and other additions to the meal have been prepared by Mrs West London Man or have been bought in from M&S… and, where necessary, heated up.
Unfortunately… WLM does not realise that one has to wait until the coals are very hot and the flames have subsided before cooking. Before you know it, City professionals etc etc… are eating sausages with the appearance of having survived a nuclear attack on the outside but are raw inside and the steaks have shrivelled to half the size. But all is well… this is man food. This is how our ancestors did it – before Delia came along.
West London Man and his guests were not able to concentrate on work fully the next day – the frequency of trips to the lavatory higher than for the usual Columbian ‘comfort’ breaks.
Tomorrow night, I am going to Kensington Place to write a review for LawandMore. I’m glad they know to cook there.
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I have decided that West London Man will be doing The Season – Chelsea, Wimbledon, Lords, Glyndebourne, Ascot, Henley … he will be there… and I shall report on how he handles himself. See: Comments below for a foretaste.
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And if you survived my rant… then go and read this… excellent stuff:
Seriously, you’re having a fucking laugh
Buona notte….. we shall meet again… on the field of the cloth of gold…. possibly. Cry God for Harry etc etc … unless you are a Dawkins fan…..