At the time, it seemed like a great alternative. Until we all saw the size of the piglet. It looked as though it had spent its piglet-hood being pumped full of steroids. With no other alternative, Mum took the creature. On the 25th, however, problems arose. The monster of a piglet wouldn't fit in the oven. Dad then suggested that barbequing it would be the only other option. All the kids were sent to carry sacks of charcoal and place it in the BBQ. Needless to say, with the sweltering temperatures of the actual day, only the excess fat of the piglet was slightly cooked.
For distraction Dad sent out for crates and crates of the local Nile Lager to keep the guests happy. But for us kids, hunger set in, and all the younger ones started bawling. Sandwiches were quickly whipped out, while grown-ups patiently waited in the shade of the huge mess tent in the garden, drinking away waiting for the 'roast' to be ready.
The pig refused to cook. All the guests had to eat for Christmas dinner were sandwiches.