OT Wordle.

[CAMiller]

So it looks like we're all done practicing for the main event that starts tomorrow. Will Ronners be up early as usual to take advantage of the weather? Will the US ex-pats stay up late to do the same or rely upon the wind dying down in the afternoon? It's all up for grabs over the next four days to see who will lift the MM claret jug aloft on Sunday.

[CTMilller]

How how have you all been so good today. Depends on the letters I guess��

A huge dose of luck usually, Eddie. You will no doubt fire into stellar form in the competition - when it matters!

[Ronners]

A beautiful Eagle here today.

2g 1y
5g

Always a great score is the eagle Adventus so congrats with that on your last round before the tournament starts, but as with CAM have you come too soon. UTM

[Ronners]

I got the mrs to agree to caddy for me in the tournament, so she said to me last night " Let's go out and have fun tonight before the tournament starts" so I said "Great idea, but if you get home before me leave the light on, and for some reason she isn't talking to me this morning....women eh??"

Anyway i got onto the first tee early as i knew pup would have been in spoons all night, so ruled him out as an obvious contender, and asked my wife/caddy for my driver, but she told me I'd driven here, great start eh!!. Anyway, I tee'd off and hit my 1st shot to within 60 yards of the green, but to the right of the fairway and into the semi rough. (1y)
Got my 9 iron out and hit a reasonable shot from where I was but it landed 25 foot from the hole and a tricky putt. (1g+1y) I had a tricky shot but gambled with a word and the ball dropped in for a birdie 3 and a great start (5g)

1y
1g+1y
5g

UTM

[Edinburghmiller]

Duffed the ball off the tee, not a great start, but early days, then a reasonable shot finishing just short of the green, but sliced my chip (needed to burn this row), then pitched in the hole for a par.

1y
3g
3g
5g

[BramleyMiller58]

Was on the Tee directly after Eddie

Thought I'd replicate his attempt !

1y
3g
3g
5g

[Adventus2012]

A birdie here

1g 1y
3g
5g

[Edinburghmiller]

Was on the Tee directly after Eddie

Thought I'd replicate his attempt !

1y
3g
3g
5g

Well played Bramley!

[ragingpup]

The first rule of winning is to kill the best of the opposition before you start so to that effect I stand astride the bloody, twitching and pulped remains of Howdy, unrecognizable from the smug, red faced and pompous old **** we know and love from the clubby. As with most other of my victims, I scoop his gory carcass into the wheelbarrow and off we go to the local river in which he is duly tipped, never to darken our clubby again.

I started early this morning in preparation for this Open Golfle thing that Cam keeps banging on about in between spraying music questions about to try and court popularity. Never liked him, and one day I suspect he shall join Howdy in his everlasting atomic redistribution via fish poo.

A good start to the day with a few pints down at sunrise with F*ckpig O’ Hazy and Ruthy Notoothy in Spoons, the habitual morning robbery of the local offy and once more skipping to the Clubby to start this new b0llocking sh1t that Cam has subjected us to. With Howdy out of the way, that just leaves the rest of those losers to smash out of the way. I sink the rest of the gin bottle, throw it up in the air and head it like Paul Stancliffe defending a corner back in his pomp. Don’t know why I do that. It f*cking hurts.

At the Clubby, all is quiet. Looks like the morning UK crew have already been in and done their race. I can see traces of Eddie and Adventus’s muesli and avocado breakfast. Both are on a big course of weight loss at last, although Bramley has given up on that and just eats lard. Ronners just eats what his missus tells him to.

I’m pleased to see Great Fire is still working behind the bar, strong arms levering up the ale with that marvelous plunging cleavage on full display. I point to the Leffe pump, signalling for three pints, carefully avoiding making any conversation, as any such effort is met by a full length recital of last night’s conspiracy lecture from that Scottish, long haired tw@t with a neckerchief on GB News. Grist sits on his own in the corner, quietly hating.

Leffe quaffed, I step out onto the golfle pitch and prepare to slam dunk. As always, I am toned, sun kissed and wearing very nice trousers. I tw@t it one!

Oh bo11ocks. Straight into a bugger. Still can’t work out why they put those sandy holes right n the middle of a sports pitch – clearly the balls going to land in them. What’s the f*cking point? 1g.

“Oh steak pitched on jeans anniversary and pan reet bacon” called out Crash from his hedge. Always good to hear his worldly wise musings, although the words are not as clear as normal due to the cat he appears to be eating.

I crack on, using slanty bat to lift the ball reluctantly out of the bugger and onto the fair lay. 2g 1y

I suddenly hear a thick American drawl behind me. “Hey, ya’ll, yous betta be getting a move on, for Is be teeing of nah and don’t want your sorry ass in way, so get the **** out of it buddy before I pull on ya”. CT has arrived and is lording it as ever, albeit slightly hampered by his usual UK police presence that have to keep him chained at all times due to his carrying of illegal publications in the last competition. I flick him the V and carry on. Dirty b@stard.

Still using the slanty bat, I hit the ball surprisingly well and it comes to rest on the green thing with flag, about the length of a Phil Henson and an inside left leg of Kari Arnason away from the hole. (3g). An easy tap in for a parp which I achieve with a rasping fart by way of showboating. (5g).

“That Pup, never been a player. Too old in my book” – ah my old mate who’s name I can never remember is back, and as always is keen to share his sporting tips. “That Normal Jake, he’s a player. Always said so, good age. I can tell these things, although my speelings are a bit sheet. Won’t go away though, and at home games, I face the wall, but I can tell me a good player and Normal’s the man, I’m telling you. That Pup, never been a player. Too old in my book…….”

I have to leave at that point as the strange fella has gone back into his ‘doom loop’. Many people think that he’s boring, but we know that the problem is purely mechanical.

Oh well, average score, average day. I head back to the Clubby for more Leffe and a go on Fire’s pendulous t1ts.

[CAMiller]

50 years playing the game and I go and get the yips today! It's all green but too much of it and it could have actually been worse.

1g
3g
3g
4g
5g

[Edinburghmiller]

50 years playing the game and I go and get the yips today! It's all green but too much of it and it could have actually been worse.

1g
3g
3g
4g
5g

Understandable Cam, it’s a big tournament!

[CTMilller]

I do enjoy these competitions if only for the literary volcanic eruptions they produce in Raging. He seems to be channeling Jack Kerouac, James Joyce (a sort of dirty version of Finnegans Wake…) and Henry Miller in one swell foop…

…and, Raging, I do not talk like a cross between Slim Pickens and Jed Clampett…

As to the golf, the less said the better. After a very promising start, with a majestic tee-off shot, I managed to lose my ball not once but TWICE in a thicket that seemed to keep springing up along the edge of the fairway. Two foul balls (ie I had to burn twice to find a way forward…) Not a good start.

3y
3g
1y
1g 1y
5g

[CAMiller]

Without doubt all the 'target' golf played in the US has been detrimental to the US contingent on day one at the Lancashire links. In addition and as is customary at The Open the early starters on day 1 faired the best and those with afternoon tee times had to deal with the wind, and not just from raging's orifices. Day 1 leaderboard:

-2 Ronners
-2 Adventus2012
E BramleyMiller58
E Edinburghmiller
E ragingpup
+2 CTMilller
+2 CAMiller

[Ronners]

The first rule of winning is to kill the best of the opposition before you start so to that effect I stand astride the bloody, twitching and pulped remains of Howdy, unrecognizable from the smug, red faced and pompous old **** we know and love from the clubby. As with most other of my victims, I scoop his gory carcass into the wheelbarrow and off we go to the local river in which he is duly tipped, never to darken our clubby again.

I started early this morning in preparation for this Open Golfle thing that Cam keeps banging on about in between spraying music questions about to try and court popularity. Never liked him, and one day I suspect he shall join Howdy in his everlasting atomic redistribution via fish poo.

A good start to the day with a few pints down at sunrise with F*ckpig O’ Hazy and Ruthy Notoothy in Spoons, the habitual morning robbery of the local offy and once more skipping to the Clubby to start this new b0llocking sh1t that Cam has subjected us to. With Howdy out of the way, that just leaves the rest of those losers to smash out of the way. I sink the rest of the gin bottle, throw it up in the air and head it like Paul Stancliffe defending a corner back in his pomp. Don’t know why I do that. It f*cking hurts.

At the Clubby, all is quiet. Looks like the morning UK crew have already been in and done their race. I can see traces of Eddie and Adventus’s muesli and avocado breakfast. Both are on a big course of weight loss at last, although Bramley has given up on that and just eats lard. Ronners just eats what his missus tells him to.

I’m pleased to see Great Fire is still working behind the bar, strong arms levering up the ale with that marvelous plunging cleavage on full display. I point to the Leffe pump, signalling for three pints, carefully avoiding making any conversation, as any such effort is met by a full length recital of last night’s conspiracy lecture from that Scottish, long haired tw@t with a neckerchief on GB News. Grist sits on his own in the corner, quietly hating.

Leffe quaffed, I step out onto the golfle pitch and prepare to slam dunk. As always, I am toned, sun kissed and wearing very nice trousers. I tw@t it one!

Oh bo11ocks. Straight into a bugger. Still can’t work out why they put those sandy holes right n the middle of a sports pitch – clearly the balls going to land in them. What’s the f*cking point? 1g.

“Oh steak pitched on jeans anniversary and pan reet bacon” called out Crash from his hedge. Always good to hear his worldly wise musings, although the words are not as clear as normal due to the cat he appears to be eating.

I crack on, using slanty bat to lift the ball reluctantly out of the bugger and onto the fair lay. 2g 1y

I suddenly hear a thick American drawl behind me. “Hey, ya’ll, yous betta be getting a move on, for Is be teeing of nah and don’t want your sorry ass in way, so get the **** out of it buddy before I pull on ya”. CT has arrived and is lording it as ever, albeit slightly hampered by his usual UK police presence that have to keep him chained at all times due to his carrying of illegal publications in the last competition. I flick him the V and carry on. Dirty b@stard.

Still using the slanty bat, I hit the ball surprisingly well and it comes to rest on the green thing with flag, about the length of a Phil Henson and an inside left leg of Kari Arnason away from the hole. (3g). An easy tap in for a parp which I achieve with a rasping fart by way of showboating. (5g).

“That Pup, never been a player. Too old in my book” – ah my old mate who’s name I can never remember is back, and as always is keen to share his sporting tips. “That Normal Jake, he’s a player. Always said so, good age. I can tell these things, although my speelings are a bit sheet. Won’t go away though, and at home games, I face the wall, but I can tell me a good player and Normal’s the man, I’m telling you. That Pup, never been a player. Too old in my book…….”

I have to leave at that point as the strange fella has gone back into his ‘doom loop’. Many people think that he’s boring, but we know that the problem is purely mechanical.

Oh well, average score, average day. I head back to the Clubby for more Leffe and a go on Fire’s pendulous t1ts.

Classic as ever pup 🤣🤣🤣

[CAMiller]

Classic as ever pup ������

Even the BBC text coverage is catching on.

"Phil Mickelson is absolutely seething as he walks off 17 with a five. His tee shot toppled into the left-hand bunker and his aggressive spank out bounded right over the green. A couple of putts and he leaves with a double. Raging."