Stamp Out Golf!

I hate golf.

I fucking hate it, and no, I don’t mean I hate playing it.  I mean I fucking hate it.

Golf is ridiculous.  Golf is not a game. 

Golf is the delusion that you’re healthy and interesting.

I hate the millions of fiddly little rules.  I hate their birdies and their bogies and their eagles.

I hate their ridiculous check pants.  I hate their obsequious, grovelling followers. 

I hate the ridiculous golf-bats they use to hit the even-more-ridiculous boiled mushroom they call a ball.  I hate their bunkers, and their water traps and their fairways and their rough.  Every time I accidentally see it on the TV, I want them to fall into the lake and die horribly of algal-bloom poisoning.  I hate the smug self-satisfied fuckers who play golf and I hate, fucking hate, their secret initiation rites.

I was once invited for a drink to a local golf club where I was introduced to the secretary-manager.

So, Bock, he said.  How nice to meet youDo you play much?

I didn’t know I was being secret-handshaked, and readied to hand over huge bundles of money in membership fees, as if they were doing me a favour, so I said, No.  I fucking hate it.  I can’t see the point of it at all.  It’s ridiculous.

The look on that man’s face was the one and only time I’ve ever enjoyed golf.

 

_______________________

Previously:

Golf: the reason God made lightning

Ryder Cup (Two?)

Ryder Cup blues

21 thoughts on “Stamp Out Golf!

  1. A couple was on their honeymoon, lying in bed, about ready to consummate their marriage, when the new bride says to the husband, “I have a confession to make, I’m not a virgin.”

    The husband replies, “That’s no big thing in this day and age.”

    The wife continues, “Yeah, I’ve been with one guy.”

    “Oh yeah? Who was the guy?”

    “Tiger Woods.”

    “Tiger Woods, the golfer?”

    “Yeah.”

    “Well, he’s rich, famous and handsome. I can see why you went to bed with him.”

    The husband and wife then make passionate love.

    When they are done, the husband gets up and walks to the telephone.

    “What are you doing?” asks the wife.

    The husband says, “I’m hungry, I was going to call room service and get something to eat.”

    “Tiger wouldn’t do that.”

    “Oh yeah? What would Tiger do?”

    “He’d come back to bed and do it a second time.”

    The husband puts down the phone and goes back to bed to make love a second time.

    When they finish, he gets up and goes over to the phone. “Now what are you doing?” she asks.

    The husband says, “I’m still hungry so I was going to get room service to get something to eat.”

    “Tiger wouldn’t do that.”

    “Oh yeah? What would Tiger do?”

    “He’d come back to bed and do it again.”

    The guy slams down the phone, goes back to bed, and makes love one more time.

    When they finish he’s tired and beat. He drags himself over to the phone and starts to dial.

    The wife asks, “Are you calling room service?”

    “No! I’m calling Tiger Woods, to find out what the par is for this damn hole.”

  2. A husband takes his wife to play her first game of golf. Of course, the wife promptly hacked her first shot right through the window
    of the biggest house adjacent to the course.
    The husband cringed, “I warned you to be careful! Now we’ll have to go up there, find the owner, apologise and see how much your lousy drive is going to cost us.”
    So the couple walked up to the house and knocked on the door.
    A warm voice said, “Come on in.”
    When they opened the door they saw the damage that was done: glass was all over the place, and a broken antique bottle was lying on its side near the broken window. A large black man reclining on the couch asked, “Are you the people that broke my window?”
    “Uh yeah, sir. We’re sure sorry about that,” the husband replied.
    “Oh, No apology is necessary. Actually I want to thank you.
    You see, I’m a genie and I’ve been trapped in that bottle for a thousand years. Now that you’ve released me, I’m allowed to grant three wishes. I’ll give you each one wish, but if you don’t mind, I’ll keep the last one for myself.”
    “Wow, that’s great!” the husband said. He pondered a moment and blurted out “I’d like a million dollars a year for the rest of my life.”
    “No problem,” said the genie. “You’ve got it, it’s the least I can do. And I’ll guarantee you a long, healthy life!
    And now you, young lady, what do you want?” the genie asked “I’d like to own a gorgeous home complete with servants in every country in the world,” she said.
    “Consider it done,” the genie said. “And your homes will always be safe from fire, burglary and natural disasters!”
    “And now,” the couple asked in unison, “What’s your wish, genie?”
    “Well, since I’ve been trapped in that bottle and haven’t been with a woman in more than a thousand years, my wish is to have sex with
    your wife.” The husband looked at his wife and said, “Gee, honey, you know we
    both now have a fortune and all those houses. What do you think?”
    She mulled it over for a few moments and said, “You know, you’re right. Considering our good fortune, I guess I wouldn’t mind, but
    what about you, honey?”
    “You know I love you sweetheart,” said the husband. “I’d do the same for you!”
    So the genie and the woman went upstairs where they spent the rest of the afternoon enjoying each other. The genie was insatiable.
    After about three hours of non-stop sex, the genie rolled over and looked directly into her eyes and asked, “How old are you and your
    husband?”
    “Why, we’re both 35,” she responded breathlessly.
    “No Kidding” he said, “Thirty-five years old and both of you still believe in genies?”

  3. Long may golf be played here in Scotland. The sound of hard cash being counted out into my youngest son’s hand just for making sure that the fat cat Yanks have a place to park their cars on a Sunday is music to his ears.

    Golf is fine if you haven’t mastered the call of the fly. Nothing beats the battle of wits between a man and his intended salmon supper.

  4. Kerryview, why not ask? We call it “rugby” – you know – the sport where, for instance, assaulting a referee invokes a lifetime ban. Unlike other bastardised sports where such acts are regarded as heroic, the assailant is nominated for sainthood or a Nobel Peace Award, and a saga ensues that we will probably never hear the fucking end of until the referee apologises for having the temerity to try to impose his authority on a thug.

  5. of course hoof, I agree – rubgy rules, and have said it before. check it. munster abu. btw in golf you referee yourself – throw the book out of your own hands.

  6. I dated a chap once who played golf. Well he was obsessed with it actually. Couldn’t even go for a drive in the car without “Oh look, theres a club I haven’t been in, shall we go in”. When we were out, it was all he wanted to talk about, apart from cycling. (don’t go there). He suggested I might be interested in trying golf. I said I might some day. The following week I received a present of a full set of clubs. The result was that he became my ex – and I gave the set of clubs to the charity shop, bar one which I keep in the boot of my car with a my hurley in case I need to give someone a wallop. The end.

  7. Gilly, you deserve a medal for not beating him to death with his “present”, No sane jury would convict you. I know if someone insulted me in such a manner, matchsticks under the fingernails would only be the first response, followed by a more judicious use of golfballs than their current useless purpose.

    Kerryview, good man, rugby abu, and sure don’t you know all golfers are such honourable pricks that of course they never cheat. Despite the fact most of them are probably playing while they’re supposed to be actually working….anyway I trawled around for a few quotes from fellow anti-golfers and picked just this few…feel free to add more;

    Golf is a day spent in a round of strenuous idleness( William Wordsworth);

    I regard golf as an expensive way of playing marbles(G.K. Chesterton);

    A golf course outside a big town serves an excellent purpose in that it segregates, as though a concentration camp, all the idle and idiot well-to-do( Osbert Sitwell);

    If you want to take long walks, take long walks. If you want to hit things with sticks, hit things with sticks. But there is no excuse for combining the two and putting the results on TV. Golf is not so much a sport as an insult to lawns(National Lampoon);

    It is the unthinkable in pursuit of the unsinkable(Douglas Watkinson);

    There is one thing in this world that is dumber than playing golf. That is watching someone else playing golf. What do you actually get to see? Thirty-seven guys in polyester slacks squinting at the sun. Doesn’t that set your blood racing?(Peter Andrews);

    Give me a man with big hands, big feet and no brains and I’ll make a golfer out of him(Walter Hagen);

    If I had my way the social status of professional golfers would be one notch below that of Nazi war criminals(Andy Lyons);

    Golf is a lot of walking, broken up by disappointment and bad arithmetic(Anon.);

    Golf and sex are the only things you can enjoy without being good at them(Jimmy Demaret).

  8. Hoof, I came close believe me. Better though to just cast him away like the wet shammy that he was…i get the impression that certain people who want to try and climb the social ladder foolishly get involved in golf, not realising it’s for gimps. The whole jumper brigade gives me a rash. i’d rather cut my arm off at this stage. I work with a couple of them as well and its all they talk about between themselves and its such a load of crap…Ooooooohh don’t get me started!

  9. typical antiqudated bile usually spouted by a “sports fanatic” who sits on their fat arse all weekend and couldn’t kick snow off a rope in their sporting prime

  10. Kicking snow off a rope sounds a far more enticing way of spending an hour rather than dressing head to toe in some overpriced piece of Pringle pink with matching fluorescent yellow trousers and designer flat cap whilst pretending to enjoy yourself with another shower of wankers in pucking a golf ball around what should be a farm, nature reserve or even a nuclear power plant rather than some hybrid slice of Southern California plonked in the middle of the countryside.

    Then, worst of all, apres golf. Where they loudly inflict the patrons of the pub they land in with entertaining tales of driving off into the 14th on a three iron “just like Tiger” and hilarious accounts of how one of their number managed to take eight shots to get out of a bunker, oh such fun. Goes on all night unless, with any luck, someone appears with a guitar to send them elsewhere.

    How can this pastime be called sport?. At best it’s Outdoor Pool for bank managers, sales reps., allied to a pack of otherwise unemployable fuckers who somehow managed to talk/marry themselves into a mock job and public sector heads of departments who deputise every conceivable function barring picking up their pay-cheques with a sprinkling of wannabee acolytes.

    Wish there were a lot more tigers lurking around the bushes and bunkers. Golf equated with sport !….you’re fucking having me on, even the drugfest Olympics wouldn’t touch it.

  11. cool, you hate golf, sugar! isn’t it a lovely world were we can each enjoy our own diversions without having to inflict our own preferences on each other? to you be your way and to me, be mine xoxoxo

    ~~~~~
    Oh fuck off you humourless prick.

    Is that better?

    this is why i adore you!:-) *giggling like a schooldgirl*

  12. I have a friend who insists on calling it “Pitch & Putt” to golfers and when corrected will still call it pitch & putt. If really pushed he will refer to it as “Pitch & Putt with a View”

  13. Gosh Dessie, he must be truly hilarious. What wit! Anymore funny sayings? I have a friend who calls tenis, bat & ball. Wonder if it’s the same friend?

  14. Bock you really need to get out more and stop typing foul mouthed nonsense behind a keyboard. Get a hobby.

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