Golf two ball, hot news

“Gruff northerner in shagging shock?” That was the headline I had in mind when my suspicions about a secret relationship between the voluptuous Maria, and the very gruff Dave “tripe” Goddard, two stalwarts of the REGS golf grouping were all but confirmed at a chance meeting of one half of this happy golfing two ball in the Queens Legs on St Patrick’s Day.

Dave, who is from Yorkshire has the unfortunate affliction of having been born in this god forsaken outpost of England. He smoulders in much the manner of a Yorkshire slag heap and has the endearing (for some) habit of starting every conversation with “nar lad”, after which I glaze over and understand almost nothing.

They have apparently been “playing together” rather a lot recently, but want to keep their relationship low-key, so to respect their wishes, I did not use my intended headline. Because of the utmost probity and discretion exercised by every member of this elite golfing organisation, and the fact that nearly all members are regular readers of this column, and will now be aware of this situation, I am convinced that not one person will mention it to them. This is testament to their collective responsibility and decorum. their secret is safe with us. I only wish I could be playing today in order to confirm this.

So the year of the blog approaches. This column will be one year old on Tuesday 22nd, and so far it has received over 18,000 hits… To celebrate I shall be compiling my favorite pictures of the year on Tuesday, so any of you who have been caught in silly poses this year, be prepared to receive more ignominy this week.

Red nose day came and went, but I still have a red nose. I even made a donation, but I still have a red nose. I want my money back. Many people had to buy a plastic red nose, but I have gone one better, I have spent years cultivating a real red nose, such is my dedication to the cause. This takes a very large sum of money, spent over a very long period of time, but for the life of me I do not see how this sterling effort can benefit those poor unfortunates, there must be some higher science at work here.

Another picture of the swollen Brague, which unaccountably reminds me of my bunyans, as they swell up when I wear my brogues.

The Brague swollen by recent rains and snow melt. Banjo, fetch the ball...

Banjo, the vacuous, varicose (well, something in that vein) cocker spaniel is ill. He did not come for his food last night, not that he needs to eat for at least a month given his enormous bulk, so for me it is a double whammy because I also save on the dog food. However, even my sense of humanity (or dogmatism?) is touched as I normally don’t like to see an animal suffer, although I can make exceptions, so if that nice lady decorator considers it may be time for the him to go to that big dog kennel in the sky, or more likely that burning dog pen down below, then I will of course be at her service. I suggest that it would be better to put him out of his misery as soon as possible, even offering to get up early and get the deed done, even to pay, but some inexplicable reason my offer is spurned.

I have left the rugby until last because I wanted to savour the moment. The culmination would have been when the 20 Euros (about £17 at today’s awful exchange rate) note from that seldom used article, John O Sullivan’s wallet, being passed to me, where inexplicably it would have got stuck to my forehead all evening, but in the end England relented and rather than rubbing our Irish cousins noses in it, settled for a 6 Nations tournament victory.

Chris France