I am not a golfer. For many years in the UK I would have liked to have been but couldn’t hack it (pardon the pun). I had lessons with Golf Pros (1-2-1) in classes and from my brother. My brother is a good golfer but a crap teacher. Sorry Trev.
I don’t like golfers – I think they’re a bunch of boring buggers. If they’re not talking about it, they’re playing it. Anyway – to progress: –
I’ve heard all the teaching aids…
- Keep this straight
- The club should be held as though it’s an extension of your dick
- When starting the swing – take the club away – not up
- Keep your head still
- You must keep your head still – ok?
- At the top of your swing – pause
- You’re pulling on a bell rope (no I’m fecking not)
- etc etc blah blah
When I were a lad, I was so busy trying to remember all this, pay my mortgage, go to work, help bring up the kids, play dominoes and pool that my swing looked liked a train crash. I packed it (golf) in. Gave it up as a bad job. Sold my clubs to my nephew – I needed the money and he was too tight to buy new ones and decided never to play the game again. Never.
Until about three months ago that is. Me, Billy, Mick and Hubert went to the local nine-hole course. Huby and Mick played the course and Billy and myself invested three Euros for a bucket of balls to whack down the driving-range.
Billy is a lovely fella and a lovely golfer – he’s crap but hits a beauty into the wild blue yonder occasionally and is very happy to do this. Billy would love to play his golf with a seven iron and a putter but this would be frowned upon by the dick-heads in plus-fours.
Amazingly, much of what I was taught twenty years ago came flooding back and I managed quite a few good shots. This might have been helped by having a pint first.
Mick and Huby are holiday-home-owners but me and Billy are here full-time so we went again today. The local ladies go out to lunch once a month – about fifty of them. It’s great – our lass comes home worse for wear and keep saying “I’m not pissed” until she falls asleep on the settee. It’s 7.30 p.m. now and the lunch is still ongoing!
Me and Billy sent loads soaring today. I’m a born-again golfer. Well – a born-again driving-ranger golfer if there is such a thing. I’m not bitten by any sort of bug but twatting yellow golf-balls for an hour and a half and then having a couple of pints is a lovely way to spend a couple of hours. A bonus is that I spent less than 10 Euros.
Right – I’m off to prepare myself to receive an I’m-not-drunk fifty-seven year old woman.