'Tramp's piss! That's what this lager tastes like! Why do you always get the cheap shit?' Malcolm roared.
Brian clenched his teeth as he heard his brother-in-law's outburst from the other side of the garden.
Why did he always have to ruin family barbeques? Why did he always have the gall to question the quality of his beer, when he had the nerve to bring shitty burgers - full of arseholes and trotters? Why did he bring his flaky...skanky...freeloading girlfriend, who was a fucking vegetarian?!?
'Buns are dry, too!' Malcolm shouted.
Brian stared at the breadknife on the counter.