“The truth hurts”

When I was a young lad I was mad into the auld golf, played it morning, noon and night, loved it.

One year when I was about 9 or 10 I asked “Santa” for a Big Bertha(now for those of you who don’t know anything about golf the “Big Bertha driver” was, at the time, the absolute dogs bollix of a driver. Nothing better and cost a fair few pound).

Anyways, that Christmas morning I pelted it down the stairs at all hours of the night burst the sitting room door wide open to find the big brand new shiny Big Bertha staring at me. I was delighted with myself, naturally as it was Christmas morning there wasn’t to much “testing out” I could do with my new driver. So as soon as the local driving range re-opened my auld lad brought me and a pal of mine(who had also struck gold with “Santa” and got the Big Bertha) down to the range to see what they where made of.

As we both got our bucket of balls and headed to the bay both us togged out thinking we where Tiger Woods. I put the ball down on the tea and lined up a shot, me father and friend watching me ready to let rip. I swung the club as hard as I could and SMACK caught the brand new driver off the poxy dirty mat and absolutely made shit of the driver, “o fuck” ...

I looked at the auld lad ready to explode and my friend like any young lad desperately holding in the laughter.  “ Ahhh for facckkk sake” says the auld lad, “your good fucking driver”.. “but sure Da Santa got it for me, not you..” says i “ a Santa my hole Rory” he grunted as he headed out into the pissing rain to collect the other end of the driver. “mon lads outta here, we’re going home.

So that was the day(judging by the utter RAGGGINGNESS on my fathers face when the most expensive part of the driver went flying into the wind) I doubled stamped that there was no such thing as good auld saint Nicklaus.