Kevin Page: Dinner party fruit kebabs to die for

Mrs P and I are going out for dinner with friends this weekend. Normally we'd have them to our place but there's a very good reason why we can't do that any more.

You see, last time I nearly killed Brian and Elaine.

I should explain that the incident wouldn't keep the Crime Scene Investigation team stumped for very long. It didn't involve a knife, gun or club or result in blood spatter patterns on the wall. My offence was committed with a fruit kebab.

I hasten to add, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, it was not premeditated.

Our friends are at the head of the class when it comes to entertaining. No burned snag on the barbie for these two. They were government-nominated for the top secret Best Home Entertainers list and a specially commissioned satellite watches from above each time they have people over for dinner, just to make sure they maintain the high standard required. They do.

With this in mind Mrs P and I decided not so much to push the boat out but to positively row it to China and back.

Anyway, while Mrs P busied herself with the more important requirements of the evening - mainly the wine (I mean you have to prioritise don't you?) I busied myself slashing a variety of fruits into bite size pieces.

The skewers located, I embarked on threading the pieces on each skewer until I was finished. As I carefully placed the finished kebabs in the fridge, the term visual symphony sprang to mind.

The dinner went well, or rather the wine did, which was good because some of the veges were a little cool and the meat, well, just not quite what we'd hoped for. I wondered whether a burnt snag might have been better ...

Happily though I knew the fruit kebabs, prepared with the utmost care and attention, would save the day.

As I brought them to the table there were gasps of admiration ... which actually turned out to be Brian choking on a cold carrot. That emergency sorted we got back to gasping in admiration at the fruit kebabs and then we tucked in.

Interesting. I didn't recall marinating them in petrol and cow poop. Using my chemistry knowledge from the explanation of the cosmetics sold on the Shopping Channel, I figured the combination of the exotic fruits and the sudden drop in temperature while refrigerating had set of some chain reaction and produced this, er, taste.

Oh well, I thought, suck it up and went in for another bite.

Luckily Mrs P was on to the pending emergency and immediately barked an order for everyone to stop eating. Sweet and gentle as she is, Mrs P is a different person when it comes to emergencies. She took charge in emphatic fashion. None of us argued and put down our fruit kebabs.

"Where," she demanded. "did you get the skewers for those kebabs?"

Deciding that a Gordon Ramsey-style retort would not be appropriate in this instance I replied they were on the bench where she had left them for me.

As I replied I looked over and pointed to the bench... where a packet of unopened skewers was positively yelling back at me.

What wasn't there was the jar of incense diffuser sticks which had been soaking in the gloopy, oily substance they come in... and which we now know tastes of petrol and cow poo.

So that was it really. The last time we had Brian and Elaine to dinner. Luckily we are still alive and friends. Red wine helped with that and removing the foul taste.

So this weekend we're going out. There might even be fruit kebabs on the menu but at least I won't be making them.