It was a scorching 38 degrees in the shade, classic Australian Christmas weather. The annual neighborhood BBQ was in full swing at the local park. Kids were splashing in the kiddie pool, the aroma of snags and prawns wafted through the air, and someone had already accidentally turned the pavlova into a Pavlova Pavement.

This year, Dave, the self-proclaimed "king of the tongs," had been roped into giving the Christmas speech. Dave was great at flipping burgers and cracking jokes, but public speaking? Not his thing.

Still, he figured, How hard could it be? Just say “Merry Christmas” and crack a beer.

When the time came, Dave climbed onto the picnic table, holding a stubby in one hand and a rolled-up piece of paper in the other. “Alright, everyone, listen up!” he hollered. The crowd turned, all grinning with that “let’s see how bad this gets” expression.

“Merry Chrissie, mates!” he began, his voice carrying over the sizzle of the BBQ. “Now, Christmas in Oz is special. We don’t have snow; we’ve got sand. We don’t have reindeer; we’ve got... uh...” He paused, clearly blanking.

“Redbacks?” shouted Bazza from the back. The crowd roared with laughter.

“Right!” Dave grinned. “Sand and redbacks. Very festive.”

He glanced at his notes, now damp with beer condensation. “Christmas is a time for family, friends, and...” He squinted. “What does that say? Oh, ‘plenty of prawns.’ Right! Christmas is all about prawns—unless you’re Mick, who’s allergic. Mick, mate, stick to the potato salad.”

Mick gave a thumbs up as everyone laughed.

Dave was starting to feel a bit more confident. “And let’s not forget the true meaning of Christmas... uh... It’s about... uh...” His mind went blank. He blurted out the first thing that popped in his head. “It’s about keeping the flies off your food!”

The crowd lost it, some doubling over with laughter. A rogue fly landed on Dave’s stubby as if to punctuate the moment.

“Alright, alright,” he said, waving his arms. “To wrap this up before I get heckled off the table: Merry Christmas! May your esky stay cold, your sausages never burn, and your cricket game end before someone breaks a window!”

The crowd cheered and clinked their drinks, and Dave jumped down, feeling both embarrassed and oddly proud.

From then on, Dave’s BBQ speeches became the highlight of every Christmas, proving once and for all that a little Aussie humour (and a lot of flies) can make even the worst public speaking a ripper of a time.