OT Wordle.

[howdydoo]

Horrible slice of the tee into the light rough and 180y from the hole.

A masterful 4 iron bounces on the fairway and runs up to within 5 feet. Best shot of the round.

Putt never in doubt as the ball drops in the hole for birdie.

Really happy with that. Two to go.


PS. Guys out early helped me out a little today.

[Brin]

Sunday effort ….. not a great start,
1y
Not much better but using another good word but not to be 1g, 1y

Had to think harder …… 2g, 1y

What could make me smile? Der der….
5g. Par for the day so still tying with my pal Bramley on +7

[BramleyMiller58]

HOLE 16

No hills involved. Straight, level fairway. Trees on RHS

Not too pleased with first shot 1g, 1y
Within pitching distance of hole though.
Raging was just coming round after his kip in the bunker. Asked him how Brin's approach shot had gone.
Went for it with 9 iron. Pitched onto green and rolled sublimely into the hole 5g

Eagle 2 and could hear Brin cursing from the next tee

5 over for the round

[CAMiller]

Not a great drive and managed to accumulate a big lump of mud on the ball. Cursed that clean and place rule wasn't in force and only managed to knock a bit of a knuckle ball forward about 100yds. At least the lump of mud fell off and that enabled me to get the 3rd onto the edge of the green and finally give my ball a bit of spit and polish. Still staring down a 30' putt but realised it was now of never if I wanted to at least delay the engraver starting to scratch out How..... on the trophy for another day. Shut my eyes, hit and hope and was glad to hear the familiar rattle as the ball hit the flag and dropped in the cup.

1y
1g
1y+1g
5g

[ragingpup]

There's only one way to go when you're the Head of Shell - that's to become God. It's Sunday and as of today, I am God.

Had a wonderful romp around Skeggy with the lads yesterday but I'm an ambitious man and frankly got bored and killed them. I ascended directly to the heavens and here I am, staggering fabulously atop the clouds.

"Please God, help me to get yet another Eagle on Golfle today"

"F*ck off Howdy you scrounging get"

"Please God, tell her to stop beating the sh!t out of me!

"Man up Ronners, grow a pair you namby b@stard"

"Please stop people that don't look like me coming into the country"

"B0llocks to you Grist. I'm sending you to Algeria"

"Please stop them controllowing my head with vaccines and mobile signals"

"Yes, yes, Fire, go and have a lie down"

Mahhaaa ung tang kettle wang best TV proggy on bread maker"

"Yes Crash, completely agree"

"That hurt"

"Sorry Lol, the lads got a bit carried away"

"Glub glub glub glub subsection 5a glub glub"

"Jeez Ghost of Kerr, didn't expect you to come back from the dead in the reservoir"

"Please God, can you make everything the same as it was when we were younger?" cried everyone on MillersMad

"F*cking shut up the lot of you!!" I screamed. I didn't expect the job to be quite so demanding. I didn't have time to play my Golfle match so I sent Jesus down to play it for me.

Jesus has had far too many shandies though and was wobbloing around the stadium like a good un. That's my boy! He saw CT lining up for his first serve and went over to get him in a headlock. Poor CT, his only defence was to break into a folk song, which as we all know Jesus can't abide all that hippy ****, so in a fit of rage, Jesus snapped CT's neck like a dry twig. The boy's got no respect.

Taking CT's bat carrier and rather expensive looking collection of bats (I put them on Ebay later - if anyone wants to bid, check out my handle #F*ckYouI'mGod) the Good Son served off with a rather sh!t shot veering off to the left and straight into a bugg@r (1y)

Luckily, Ron's blood has congealed with the sand, so Jesus was easily able to chip it out of the bugg@r but was still a long way from the grassy green thing with flag (2y). He paused for a while and considered his options. He choose to inject hard drugs and passed out next to the tree as the Ghost of Kerr squelched around aimlessly in the distance.

After a couple of hours Jesus awoke and, following a few gulps of Nasty's Spirit Paint Remover, played the most beautiful shot, looping onto the grassy green thing with flag and plopping straight down into the hole in the ground. Big juicy Bird for the Son of Man.

Well done lad. Proud of you. Don't think we'll catch Howdy, but I've just send the Holy Spirit to ram a spike up his @rse so I don't think he'll be playing tomorrow anyway.

[CTMilller]

Woke up with a horrible crick in my neck. Must have slept awkwardly but I did dream well about a nice guy with a beard asking me how the hell you played golf - I was playing my guitar and singing "Kumbaya" at the time - and then I don't remember anything else...

Disastrous start when I found my clubs were missing. All gone; bag and everything. Had to hire a set from the club shop. Cheap and nasty but they'll have to do.


Decent enough drive off the tee but the ball disappeared into the rough (1g) Couldn't find it and had to take a new ball (1g) Reached the green but ball rolled back into a bunker (1g). Must be this equipment I rented...

The sand wedge looked decent, though, and in the end saved my bacon. Marvelous chip out - straight from the Howdy text book - and I could not believe my eyes when it rolled unerringly towards the tin cup and plopped in for a face-saving parp...er par. (5g)

If anybody hears anything about a missing set of clubs, do get in touch. (High-end TaylorMades.)

[millertop]

Calm Monday 3

[Brin]

Early start, clear head.
1y
1g, 2y
5g

Pleased with that means -1 so +6 overall

[Ronners]

Birdie 3 for me today (28th Nov)

I was thinking of trying something different today, so instead of using my wood off the tee I took out my 4 iron and said to the wife "Do you think I can make it from here using this?" "Eventually"
said the sarcastic cow. She constantly finds ways to bring up what I did when she was carrying our first child, we were going to classes with the midwife, and the midwife was stressing to everyone how important it was for the women to exercise every day with a walk of at least 2 miles and asked if anyone had any questions?
I put my hand up and asked "would my wife be able to carry a golf bag on the walk?"
Anyway I ended up using my wood off the tee in the end, and hit a beauty that actually came to a halt on the edge of the green around 25yds from the hole (1g+2y)
From this position I had a great chance for an eagle but my putting has been hit and miss lately, I once told my wife "we should embrace our mistakes" and straight away she gave me a hug....T**T. Anyway, I decided how I was going to play it and hit a decent putt that for a split second looked like it was going in, but stopped 6 inches from the hole (2g+1y)
After a little bit of thought, I realised what i needed to do, but that could wait until I got her home, so out came my little splutter and rolled the ball in for a birdie 3 (5g)

1g+2y
2g+1y
5g

[howdydoo]

Another nervy drive short and left into the light rough.

2nd shot no better leaving me in the front bunker and 45 yards to the flag.

After deliberating, for what seemed an hour, my bunker shot flew straight in the hole.

Birdie 3.


I hope that’s a non binary, any sized, non offensive person I can hear singing in the clubhouse.

[howdydoo]

Breakdown:

2y
3y
5g

[jakethemiller]

200 yard drive just off to right of fairway. 2y
5 iron to heart of green. 2g
Lovely putt for birdie 3. 5g

[BramleyMiller58]

HOLE 17

Trees to RHS, ditch and fields to RHS

Managed to drive past ditch and into middle of fairway 2y
5 iron to fringe of green 2y
To Putt or not to putt. Weighed up options of clubs (letters) left.
Went for putt from 45ft and in it dropped ! 5g

Pretty chuffed with last three holes

Birdie on 17th

Pulled it back to 4 over for the round

[ragingpup]

I knew it would be too good to last.

After one day of Lording overall control of the Universe and everything within it as Godhead, some sciencey b@stard has finally proved that I don’t exist and POOF, instantly I am back amongst the rain and trash on the backstreets of Sh*tville. As you were. Carry on.

Who would have thought that we’d end up in a Multiverse? I shudder. An infinite number of Montys. Doesn’t bear thinking about.

I carefully extract the half bottle of Asda Gin from the sleeping Ruthy Notoothy and make my way to Spoons which is just opening for breakfast. Max Vegetable and Ronnie O’Tw@t are in there already on the John Smiths but I’m going in for real. You don’t have a weekend like I’ve had without carrying some wounds that need treatment so straight up with 3 Leffes and an optic crawl, one of each. That will put the wind in my sails.

Off to the Clubby and things are a little less blurred. Jesus, before he was disproved to exist only as an element of fiction, left me a new bat carrier, which on closer inspection had a rather dubious consignment of what could be illegal erotic photography! Who the hell did he get this from?

The Ghost of Kerr was now working behind the bar which is difficult. How do I make eye contact with him when we both know that I was responsible for his brutal murder?

“Bottle of vodka please mate, and…um…sorry about that”

“Glurrah. Hummphh. Gnuuurrrr. Jurisprudence” The Ghost of Kerr uttered mournfully trying to unscrew the bottle; increasingly tricky as his left arm had just fallen off.

“For f*ck’s sake give it here” I snapped and wrestled the Voddy from his grasp, unfortunately bringing his right arm with it too. I unscrewed it and hungrily slurped the first third whilst ignoring his severed arm flopping helplessly around my face. “Useless dead c*nt” I shouted cleverly over my shoulder as Kerr wept whilst walking repeatedly into door. Maybe the next universe will be kinder to him?

Out on the Golfle court, I awaited the heavily bandaged Ronners to make his first serve being watched maliciously be a lady with a huge thumb. Good shot Ronners (remember what I said about the shovel and the remote part of the woods? Wink wink)

My turn. This time it is a majestic serve, straight down the Fair Lay, dropping right onto the grassy green thing with flag and rolling meekly straight into the hole in the ground in ONE SHOT!! YEESSSS!!! A HOLE IN ONE!! YOU GET THAT YOU LOSERS. I GOT A HOLE IN F*CKING ONE!!!!!!

Of course I didn’t. It landed in a bugg’r (0g 1y).

Looking up to my right I noticed a body hanging upside down from a tree, bruised and bloodied and wearing only a cardigan. A furious man, American perhaps, stalked away from the body uttering something about… “sloppy moderation”? No idea what this means, but the cardigan man must have been doing it very badly.

Right, let’s get busy. I drained the last of the Voddy and remembered I had a little pouch of my Special Friend which I rapturously consumed before using Ghost of Kerr’s arm to smack a beauty of a shot straight out of the bugg@r and onto the grassy green thing with flag. Perhaps one Ian Porterfield and the legs of Emlyn Hughes away from the hole in the ground (2g 2y). A simple tap in using Kerr’s white thumb, and the Bird is complete. (5g)

A multiverse. Infinite. Never ending. A universe for every possible eventuality. And still there isn’t one where Tom Eaves scores a goal….

[Ronners]

I knew it would be too good to last.

After one day of Lording overall control of the Universe and everything within it as Godhead, some sciencey b@stard has finally proved that I don’t exist and POOF, instantly I am back amongst the rain and trash on the backstreets of Sh*tville. As you were. Carry on.

Who would have thought that we’d end up in a Multiverse? I shudder. An infinite number of Montys. Doesn’t bear thinking about.

I carefully extract the half bottle of Asda Gin from the sleeping Ruthy Notoothy and make my way to Spoons which is just opening for breakfast. Max Vegetable and Ronnie O’Tw@t are in there already on the John Smiths but I’m going in for real. You don’t have a weekend like I’ve had without carrying some wounds that need treatment so straight up with 3 Leffes and an optic crawl, one of each. That will put the wind in my sails.

Off to the Clubby and things are a little less blurred. Jesus, before he was disproved to exist only as an element of fiction, left me a new bat carrier, which on closer inspection had a rather dubious consignment of what could be illegal erotic photography! Who the hell did he get this from?

The Ghost of Kerr was now working behind the bar which is difficult. How do I make eye contact with him when we both know that I was responsible for his brutal murder?

“Bottle of vodka please mate, and…um…sorry about that”

“Glurrah. Hummphh. Gnuuurrrr. Jurisprudence” The Ghost of Kerr uttered mournfully trying to unscrew the bottle; increasingly tricky as his left arm had just fallen off.

“For f*ck’s sake give it here” I snapped and wrestled the Voddy from his grasp, unfortunately bringing his right arm with it too. I unscrewed it and hungrily slurped the first third whilst ignoring his severed arm flopping helplessly around my face. “Useless dead c*nt” I shouted cleverly over my shoulder as Kerr wept whilst walking repeatedly into door. Maybe the next universe will be kinder to him?

Out on the Golfle court, I awaited the heavily bandaged Ronners to make his first serve being watched maliciously be a lady with a huge thumb. Good shot Ronners (remember what I said about the shovel and the remote part of the woods? Wink wink)

My turn. This time it is a majestic serve, straight down the Fair Lay, dropping right onto the grassy green thing with flag and rolling meekly straight into the hole in the ground in ONE SHOT!! YEESSSS!!! A HOLE IN ONE!! YOU GET THAT YOU LOSERS. I GOT A HOLE IN F*CKING ONE!!!!!!

Of course I didn’t. It landed in a bugg’r (0g 1y).

Looking up to my right I noticed a body hanging upside down from a tree, bruised and bloodied and wearing only a cardigan. A furious man, American perhaps, stalked away from the body uttering something about… “sloppy moderation”? No idea what this means, but the cardigan man must have been doing it very badly.

Right, let’s get busy. I drained the last of the Voddy and remembered I had a little pouch of my Special Friend which I rapturously consumed before using Ghost of Kerr’s arm to smack a beauty of a shot straight out of the bugg@r and onto the grassy green thing with flag. Perhaps one Ian Porterfield and the legs of Emlyn Hughes away from the hole in the ground (2g 2y). A simple tap in using Kerr’s white thumb, and the Bird is complete. (5g)

A multiverse. Infinite. Never ending. A universe for every possible eventuality. And still there isn’t one where Tom Eaves scores a goal….

Another classic pup.....f%&$#n pissed missen again, too much to drink again, so off to change but hopefully just the wife😂 ffs dont tell her shhh 🤕 UTM