Jesus, it's an unacknowledged aspect of the Murdoch tyranny that he has made uncritical sportsfreaks of many; any old competitives shit, and they'll watch it - ice hockey, BMX riding, fucking obesity darts, would you believe it and now golf. It was bad enough when it was just snooker and football, a bit of cricket but mainly on the radio, and a fortnight of Wimbledon but now the Sports News takes up[ fifteen minutes of every hour on the skymadeupnewsandfilth channels - ie all of them. Then there's ten or fifteen minutes of weather and take away the adverts and trailers and you realise you're watching bilge. Now there's a new Andy Moron, some grinning kid from Ulster., wants to be a heavily sponsored, multi-millionaire entertainer by playing golf on the TeeVee. If this television hadn't cost so much it'd be outside, getting jumped on.
This here is Loudon on golf, anyway; now a grisly parody of his quirky, ebullient younger self. Mind, if I'd spawned the insufferable Rufus Wainwright and the hideous Martha Wainwright, I'd feel pretty grisly, too. Serves him right.
17 comments:
Mr I: you should try a round. It would get you away from the TeeVee and the 'puter. Apart from the exercise, there is a certain zen thing in trying to make a little white ball obey.
Notice last year at my local course "Watch Out For Snakes At First Tee" - keeps you on your toes.
However, agree with the general point on the Murdochisation of sport.
A mate of mine is a flogger. We'll get you down the fairway one fo these days, he says. Nah. I quite watching it when the wind blows hard - bit like watching F1 for the crashes, I expect - but all that yankee pitch and putting is tedious. Golf is I suggest probably the last sport that is still devoid of cheating.
In the North of Scotland, mr mike, most of the time, anything which goes airborne winds up in Norway, golf is not played much here.
Okay, okay. Hmm. It does kinda seem like you've opened a can of worms, here. In Ruin, we all have to cling on to something.
This is gonna be a one off rant devoid of opinion (hopefully).
Macelroy's swing is beautiful, no moving parts, soft yet strong like bogroll and consistent. I often take the piss out of my mum for 'forcing me to go to school' instead of wandering around the planet with my 8 iron. You can't blame the sport for TeeVee coverage. Why is politics in the news when no fucker turns up for Town Hall meetings? When no cunt votes or understands who, what, why they're voting does esoteric flummery dominate their current affairs? I duuno and care even less.
Golf, however, is beautiful. I started when I was about 12 and fortunately moved from tennis and my best bud and I used to proper rip the piss out out fat, middle aged cunts with bags of money and top of the range clubs (£2,000 minimum) who had no fucking idea how to use them. Golf allows people to wander round with beers, spliffs, ceegars and sandwiches and for blokes to interact with each other without being in any way gay. It's a bit tough being a bloke sometimes - you're not gonna meet up with your buddies for a coffee or go shopping with the cunt so golf serves that purpose.
There's always been money in golf and having a filthy perverted neeegro as the best in the world does kinda cheer me up. Ah, fuck 'em - if some cunts wanna pay for it then let 'em, let's see how they do with their 8 iron - the only test that's credible. Rory seems like a nice lad and £200 million, well, as Barnum said 'it's easy to make a fool part with his money'. Colin Montgomery - now there's a proper cunt; whinging his way round a course like it was work! Penis.
Bit of a coincidence there Mr.I - it was my granddaughter's fifth birthday a few days ago, I remembered LWIII's "Five Years Old" and played it to my daughter yesterday.
She was much taken, but I hesitate to let her see the man he has become! My favourite is "I Don't Think Your Wife Likes Me" - always worth a listen...
Spot on - in your own inimitable style - Mr dtp.
Young McIlroy has it all.
Played since I was 10. Not so much since the wee Prospects arrived.
Still, in my case, a good walk spoiled.
Always used to have a sift spot for him and I have lots of favourites, mr c - the banjo-driven Swimming Song, Your Mother and I, Hard Day On The Planet- but his horrid appearance, a retrospective merged with a live concert, on BBC a year or two back, was the stuff of nightmares.
His late ex-, Ms Kate McGarrigle, now, she wrote some exquisite songs, even though she, too, in her later years, became an arsehole.
That's good stuff, mr dtp.
They never had any spliffs, the buggers who are trying to get me into the game, Mr DtP. They seem much more interested in the bollocks of what togs they are allowed to wear where, and did you hear about Blooter who grounded his club at the seventh and... Aww, fuck off! However, golf and spliffs? Yes, I could manage that. Might even be able to scratch around and source some acid - do the job right, eh?
Golfing on acid? I have said it before, the sickness of your mind, mr mongoose, troubles me sometimes; I fervently hope it is not any Ishmaelian influence at work.
I went once to play squash at a country club owned by a former cricketer, down Leek Wootton way, you'll know it. And the talk there, and this is way back, among the bloated estate agents and sundry arseholes, was all about the clobber; shit, really.
Some little-known facts about golfing:
Mr the noblest prospect; you will know, of course, that St Andrews is called St Andrews because in the sixth century a Greek monk called Regus - not Rebus - arrived on the shores with a bag of old bones and shite which he claimed were the relics of the apostle, Andrew.
Hey Presto, the visitScotland tourism industry was born, as money-grubbing monks built an Abbey, as fast as 'ere they could, to house the holy relics and charge five bob, or a sheep, at the door. Eventually the surrounding settlements became known as St Andrews in which the game iof golf, if it is a game, was first played. Doubtless, up in Heaven, the eponymous saint is known among his Last Supoper colleagues as Andy, the fucking golfer.
In tomorrow's golfing story Tomorrow, How First Minister Alec Lard sold a site of special scientific interest and outstanding natural beauty to the great Scotsman, Donald McTrump, so he could build a golfcourse for visiting Chinks and international criminals, like himself. And Sir Alec.
And now, to play us oot, Robin Hall and Jimmy McGregor, singing Donald where's yer toupee?
Ofcourse it's corrupt, ofcourse it is but the gig of golf should be separated from the corporate parasite that feeds upon it. I played tennis religiously for about 4 years and you get to a point when you realize it's shite, boring, repetitive and pointless. Whereas with golf (acid aside - maybe helps with putting but doubt the 5 iron) you can get pleasure from your surroundings - looking down on towns, getting to know the topography and the infrastructure.
Completely understand your gripe a la Trump - how many golf courses does Jockland need when it's already got the best in the world? Wanker. Strangely, oddly it's more profitable for serious golfers like Els, Faldo & Nicklaus to make £10 million a pop designing golf courses? Eh? You what? Pop a fucking bunker there and make the green a bit wobbly? Ho hum.
It genuinely does amuse me when the £100k a year accountants, lawyers and God knows what wander round with clubs trashing the place when if they handed it to the kid loitering on the practice ground could kill do serious damage with it. More money than sense and the green never forgets.
but driving on acid is easy
Thinking on - me & my bud once doubled up with a couple of doctors and they cheated on the scores. We just kinda stared at them and couldn't get our little heads around it. WTF are you doing here was perhaps the most pertinant question rather than any competitive desire to right wrongs. It just made him look like a cock.
Golf. One of the last bastions of civilisation in these corrupt days. Our course turfs folk off if they're improperly dressed. Doesn't matter who the fuck they are. Three hours of etiquette and decent conversation with a polite hand shake at the end. Beautiful scenery and a couple of pints to look forward to back in the clubhouse.
Always knew you were a wrong un. Hold out for those mushies instead, Ms Lilith.
Gowf was a great idea, Mr Ishmael, but wouldn't recommend it on acid.
So was whisky and all the other great ideas Scotland is famed for, but which have all since suffered the Globacorp, Sir Walter Scott shortbread tin rebrand.
Ideas are exactly what's lacking in Scotland now. Like, what the fuck do we do when RBS goes the way they should have gone in 2008?
Salmond is finding it easy being the biggest shite in the pan.
At ten, the middle prospect has developed an early enthusiasm for Shakespeare. I took her off tonight to see her first performance of Macbeth in the grounds of Trinity College. It was quite a gig for her; blew her away. Great stuff.
Out, damned spot! out, I say!--One: two: why,
then, 'tis time to do't.--Hell is murky!--Fie, my
lord, fie! a soldier, and afeard? What need we
fear who knows it, when none can call our power to
account?
I'm with Mr I.
Golf is Hyacinth Buckett on Snob acid.
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