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My First Round of the Year

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    My First Round of the Year



    Finished work a little earlier today because we have glorious sunshine here in sub tropical West Cork. The rain that had threatened to wash us into the sea for the last five or six months had stopped. We haven't had a drop of it for a week now and everything is beginning to dry out, except myself, but that's another story. The cabin fever that had assailed me was now but a distant memory.


    I broke open the rusty lock on the shed and took out the golf bag. Funny smell off it, so I put the bananas (at least I think they were bananas one time) into the bin and after locating a pair of golf shoes headed off for my first couple of holes of the year. I placed an old Peter Frampton compilation in the CD player, turned up the volume, donned the polaroids and made haste for Skibbereen GC.



    Passing through Drimoleague, a village on the way to Skibb, I was surprised to see life there : a LLanelli supporter! What the f**k is going on here, I thought to myself? I stopped to bid him the time of day. "Are you the only gay in the village?" I said wittily. He hit me on the nose, quite wittily too in fact. After I had bled to death and recovered, we decided to go into the East End for a drink to discuss the match on Friday.


    A pleasant chap he was indeed and after a couple of pints of Murphys and a few farts into the open fire (as is the custom in these parts) I asked him what he was doing in this neck of the woods, indeed in this neck of the backwoods. He replied that it was a secret, but that I seemed a decent enough chap, and he might tell me after another few pints.


    Eight pints later, in just under an hour, and my friend's throat was sufficiently lubricated to talk. "I'm here to assassinate Brian Carney, Boyo" he said. "I was sent by Gwlad who promised me 72 virgins and a barrel of Watkins ale if I succeeded" I asked him if he played rugby, to which he replied that he was a former front rower. That explains some of it, I thought: one too many bangs to the head. I told him thatBrian Carney only had relatives in this town. " Do you think they'd do instead?" he replied." I'm certain they would" I said." In fact I have a photograph of one of them here in my pocket". I showed him a picture of Simon Easterby and told him that he was one of the Welsh Carney's and at this moment in time could be found in LLanelli passing himself off as captain of the Scarlet's. Your man nodded his head thoughtfully (gross exaggeration naturally), winked at me and enveloped me in a bear hug. "I must go, dear Irish friend, and complete a mission. I'll never forget you for this. Would you fancy a few virgins?" We sang a few Tom Jones numbers before he left tearfully, on the Cork bus, with the photograph of Brian Carney's cousin in his inside pocket.



    Now where was I going before I met your man? Oh yes!I played my first round of golf this year. I went around in 6 under par, drove 3 of the par fives, had 2 holes in one and this, I kid you not, was in pitch darkness.

    #2
    Found a 3 month old sandwich in mine when I dusted them off in Feb. Had to buy a new bag.

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      #3


      Originally posted by epaddy
      Found a 3 month old sandwich in mine when I dusted them off in Feb. Had to buy a new bag.

      Affluence I guess.
      Excellence is hard to keep quite - Sherrie Coale

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        #4





        He was lucky, Milltown GC nearly kicked him out over it.
        New infraction avoidance policy: a post may be described as imbecilic, but its author should never be described as an imbecile.

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          #5
          Uncle George wouldn't like that kind of thing.
          The Beatings Will Continue Until Morale Improves

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            #6





            Fine weather golfers!! [img]smileys/cool.gif[/img]
            Anybody who sees a psychiatrist would want their head examined.*&nb sp;Henry Ford

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