Putting your foot in it

Every year my parents hold a family barbeque. This happened on the 10th August.

*cue wobbly Scooby-Doo mirage effect*

Me: Parents, dear, do you mind ever so if I extended an invite to [my best friend] and [her husband]? Mother dearest: Yes, really. It's definitely a Family Barbeque this year.
Me: No problem!
Father (entering doghouse): Oh. I meant to say, I invited [can't remember name] and his wife at [my brother]'s barbeque last week.
Mother & Me: Who?!
Father (from within doghouse): The tall chap who was there with his wife and two boys.
Mother (grinding teeth): How do you know them?
Father: From [my nephew]'s football - he goes along to watch too (my, isn't it echo-y inside this doghouse?*)
Mother (firing deathstare at Father's back): I don't know who you mean. Well [to me], you may as well invite [my best friend] and [her husband] then, Daughter.
Me (ingratiating self with Mother): Well, no, not if it's strictly a family one this year. I didn't confirm to [my best friend] she could definitely come, I said I'd ask.
Mother (impersonating Marge Simpson): Hmmmmmm
Father: [silence]

*Not actual part of conversation

I later said to my mother yesterday whether she was okay, and unsurprisingly, she wasn't. The only people who know who my father invited are.. my father, my nephew and my brother. The numbers (sans any extras) are eleven as it is, these others would've been an extra four.

End of the tale is. the were uninvited. Naughty father. The barbeque itself (which was on Saturday) went swimmingly, even if the weather could've been better. I should be thankful it didn't rain.