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Humour Our lives Sport

Bullet Gets A Job

I know that look.

What, I demand.‚  What, Bullet?‚  What?‚  Spit it out.‚  I won’t bite you.

Bullet shuffles his feet and looks down at the floor.‚  I got a job.

You got a job?‚  Great!

Bullet adds nothing so we both stand there for many silent minutes as I grimace questions at him.‚  He frowns back at me till I can stand it no more.

What’s the job?

Bullet looks past my shoulder towards the door.‚  He’s very fit and he could probably jump over me if he tried, but this is a worrying sign.‚  My eyes get squinty and my fingers twitch.

What’s the fuckin job, Bullet?

He mutters something that sounds like Gnnoglpphhh.

What the fuck is Gnnoglpphhh?

Gnnoglpphhh open, Bullet mumbles.‚  A dare.

You’ve lost me, Bullet.‚  You’re doing a job for a dare?

Bullet looks defeated.‚  I got a job at the Irish Golf open, in Adare.

I feel like Michael Corleone.

Golf? I say.‚  Golf???‚  Fuckin golf??‚  How could you do this to me, Fredo – I mean Bullet?

Anyone who’s been visiting here for a while will know how I feel about golf.‚  I think golf is the anti-sport.‚  I think God invented lightning specially for golfers.‚  I have organised marches on the homes of known golfers in my neighbourhood.‚  Get out of our town.

Golf is the most pointless bullshit activity ever conceived of and it’s full of gobshites with very, very bad dress sense.‚  Who the fuck wears one glove?‚  Who goes around in bile-green plus-fours?‚  Who gives a fuck if your little fuckin knobbly ball goes into the fuckin lake?

Golf is a game for people who want to become old and I fuckin hate it. I’ve always hated it and now here’s my beloved son, Bullet, telling me he has a job at the Irish Open.‚  But then, I begin to spot an angle.

Bullet, I say, placing a fatherly arm around his shoulder.‚  This job would perhaps involve serving food and drink?

Bullet nods.

To famous golfers?

He nods again.

Bullet, I say, you have my blessing to do this thing, but maybe you would do your aged parent one small favour. Out of respect.

Bullet shrugs, Sure.‚  Why not?

I hand him a small vial marked only with a skull and crossbones.

Take this, I intone, and use it wisely.

Bullet secretes the vial inside his jacket and nods silently.‚  He understands.

This will be his first real job.

Categories
Humour Sport

Golf: the reason God made lightning

Isn’t it just as well we didn’t bring the cattle out golfing? said Jimbo.

‘Tis, I replied, considering the ferocity of the lightning storm at present bursting about our heads.

Exactly, he concurred. In a less ferocious lightning storm we’d have been ok.

We both went quiet for a minute, peacefully contemplating my dog Satan chewing an illegal immigrant.

What would you say it’s for? Jimbo said after a long pause.

What?

Lightning.

Oh, I told him, it’s God’s way of killing golfers.

And cattle, he added.

True, I agreed.

Anything that damages the environment, in other words.

Jimbo is very well informed, and so I didn’t immediately sneer at him, as I normally would.

How do golfers damage the environment? I asked. Do they fart a lot?

Possibly, he replied, but that’s not the main reason. Mostly it’s by flattening tropical rain forest to build golf courses where they shouldn’t be.

I heard they make chopsticks out of the trees and sell them to the Japanese.

Indeed, he said. That’s golfers for you.

My main reason for hating golfers, I offered, is the stupid yellow sweaters they wear.

Jimbo nodded. And the silly shoes with the little fringe over the laces.

Yeah, I said. And the Argyll socks.

And the fact that it’s only a sport in the same way that darts might be a sport.

Certainly. That too. And Barbra Streisand concerts.

Jimbo looked pensive for a moment. Where do they get the most lightning in the world?

At a guess, I replied, the spot with the most lightning probably lies deep in the mountains of eastern Democratic Republic of the Congo near the small village of Kifuka (elevation 3200 feet, 970 m).

Well, said Jimbo, that’s where we’ll have to build our golf course and turn it into a top resort that will attract golfers from all over the world.

Great idea, I congratulated him. I’ll get onto my people straight away and tell them to start clearing the rain forest.