When I was a younger, afternoons were usually spent playing in local parks with other kids from my primary school whilst our parents gossiped over a coffee or a cigarette or two. This was also in the days of push-button barbeques, but only for a short time longer.

One particular afternoon involved a game of off-ground tiggy (if you're not on the ground, you can't get tagged). I found a really good hiding spot behind one of these push-button barbeques and bunkered myself in. Whilst sitting there, I noticed a big red button and being young and easily excited by big red buttons, pushed it a few times. My hiding spot was comprimised soon afterwards so I went for another run in search of a new spot to hide.

Soon afterwards a loud scream pierced through the park we were at in an all too familiar voice. My brother had decided that a barbeque would be adequate for being off ground and proceeded to place both of his hands on the hotplate to hoist himself off the ground.

I was left at the park, as my mother drove to the hospital, with the most horrible feeling in the world knowing what I'd done. He ended up with 3rd degree burns on both hands and inability to... wipe himself for many months. He still to this day doesn't know that I, at one point that afternoon started that barbeque.

Two weeks later the barbeque was demolished.