"Charity Celebrity Golf"

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• st dogmael: Are we not going to wait for everyone to hole out then or is this Matchplay ?
• Newkid, with Jimmy Crankie: *Newkid and Crankie walk off to their lie, not a word passing between them. Crankie, who's shot it is, drops and ends up with a good lie in mid-heavy rough, the ball sitting up slightly. He fixes it with a mean glare and pulls out his wood. Addressing the ball he shifts his feet and shoulders slightly, backswings, and powers through the ball. The ball carries well and draws back onto the 1st fairway, 200yds to the pin. Newkid is smiling, Crankie grabs an emery board. Newkid wonders why the celebrated glasgow hardman is doing his nails...
• Newkid, with Jimmy Crankie: Well, everyone else is either looking for the ball or has holed out. So I'll take my shot. Now then, 200 yds, pin high and right on the green, bunker right at the front of the green, wind blowing left to right across the fairway...*Newkid opts for a 1 iron, hoping to loft the ball and make use of the wind to bring the ball back onto line after facing slightly into the wind. With enough power the bunker could be avoided. No interruption from Crankie, he seems intent on buffing his nails. The shot fails, the ball ends up sitting up on the sand in the bunker. Crankie's at the hip-flask again...*
• gil: Gil: No! God, no! Please disqualify us!
  Peter: Oh, yes, I agree. In fact, I insist. Let's go to the 19th and wait for the winner to come in. What'you drinking, Gil?
  Gil: I'll have a dry Martinus.
  Peter: Surely you mean "martini"?
  Gil: No thanks, Peter, if I'd wanted more than one I'd have said so.
  Both retire to the clubhouse chuckling over this ancient joke..
• st dogmael: ***Hands 5 iron to Emma Peel who promptly tees up the ball and with nary a practice swing taps the ball a solid 199.7 yards to lie on the green, about 12 inches from the hole. She lights a cigarette and yawns slightly, making eyes at st d who just looks back with a contented smile***
• Committee Member: ***Throws Gil & Peter out of clubhouse, insisting that they cannot come in if they have abandoned the competition. They are escorted back to the second teeing ground, Martinis in hand, and Alliss is forced to tee up a Callaway 3, and gently but forcefully handed a 2 iron.***
• The Oldest Member: Gaaaaah! It was never like this in my day!
• Software with Nadia (of Big Brother fame): (Appologises profusely for late arrival and is directed to the first tee by a crotchety old committee member, having first releived them of the entrance fee and checked their gold bags for security) Software lets the lady take the tee first. Nadia bends down, chuckling through her thick smokers throat, and places a pink ball carefully on the *wooden* tee. Peers across the fairway to the green to line up her shot and selects a No 2 wood. Takes no practice swing and addresses the ball. A quick lift and follow through. Unfortunately, her silicone enhanced bosom impeeds her swing and the ball bounces once off a slice and into the rough only 20 yards from the tee. She laughs a throaty laugh. Software, clearly not ammused, steps up, making sure everyone in hearing distance can hear him moaning about his recent frozen sholder operation. Places his ball, and after a couple of practice swings with his No 3 wood, drives a clean hook into the woods to the left of the fairway about 99 yards. Throws wood back into bag and stomps off to catch up with Nadia who is scrubbling about in the rough looking for her lost ball.
• I Say, Caddie! with Father Jack: Is unable to prise playing partner's fingers from the bar. Beats playing partner repeatedly about the head crying "Arse!" "Feck" "Drink" "Girls". "Alright, Father," says ISP, "I'll let go of the bar. Nobody told me the prize was a lifetime's supply of whiskey."
• Newkid, with Jimmy Crankie: *Crankie is fuming at the thought of a bunker shot. As he pulls the wedge from his bag he glares at Newkid over his shoulder. His first shot lofts poorly and the ball rolls back to roughly it's starting position. This happens again. Crankie has a fit.
  "Ah cannae dee it, ah'm jist a wee boy", he squeals.
  "Get on with it", replies Newkid.
  "Nae, ah'm nit gannae", say Crankie as he starts to run away. *Newkid gives chase and pulls Crankie back by the scruff of the collar. Crankie plays a fine shot leaving Newkid a 3 foot putt.*
• momus: ...and I espy the spirit of Peter Cook trundling up to the 4th tee, berating the lesser sprite of James Hunt and his "fucking cunt" of an alsatian...is that Peter Allis I see deciding to advertise Slumberland beds rather than referee this gorgeous 1982 mis-matchplay
• Dujon and Jeeves: Oh, I say! Is this some form of competition? If it is, may I join in? I wouldn't mind a quick round. *aside to Jeeves - 'be a good chap and raid the clubhouse would you? A few bottles of Napoleon and a decent single malt should sort this out'* So, what's the ante? Ten quid a shot or what? *looks around with eybrows raised in order to match the glass that he carries.*
• st d____: Fire in old boy. More the merrier. £30 a hole.
• Dujon and Jeeves: *Jeeves returns driving an electric cart with a small trailer hitched to the rear. The trailer contents clink happily as he parks the device adjacent to the first tee* Well, I suppose we'll will be last off? Who's next? *looks around* I say, st d......, smashing partner you've got there, old chap, what! *nudges st d...... with elbow whilst adopting a supercilious smirk*
• Software: Nadia discovers two balls in the long grass. "These are no good to me now!" She shreaks with laughter. Software directs her to take a penalty and drop. She selects a 7 iron and chips convincingly onto the fairway 120 yards with a clean lie. Software disappears into the undergrowth and hacks about with his 9 iron. Finding his ball under a thistle he cuts a large divot but manages to reach the fairway after bouncing off a tree. Falls down rabit hole and tears his trousers on a hawthorn bush. Temper becoming fouler by the minute. Reaches for hip flask and takes a deep draught of Calvados. Meanwhile, Nadia is lighting a cigarette and waiting on the fairway, flashing her ample bosom towards the spectators.
• gil & Peter Allis:
  Gil: Caddie! I, say, Caddie! Fetch us a large jug of Martini and a pair of lawn chairs, would you? Peter and I are deciding whether to get disqualified again immediately, or to play the round and be disqualified later. The former sounds more comfortable, doesn't it, Peter?
  Peter: Absolutely. Why don't I hit the ball a short distance, then drop it nearer the hole and hit it again? Does so
  Royal and Ancient Referree: Disqualified!
  Peter: There, you see... Where's that caddie got to?
• st dogmael: **takes out mobile phoe and dials*** Hello Mum. Yes it's me.... Playing golf with Emma......... Yes she is lovely isn't she. In fact I asked her to marry me and she has said yes....I knew you'd be delighted. I'll put her on...***hands phone to Emma***
  Emma Peel: Hello Mrs st dogmael. Yes it is marvellous isn't it. I have never felt like this about anyone before. He's just so attractive and makes me feel like a real woman again. You too. See you very soon. ***hangs up phone and hands it back to st dogmael just as he is picking up his ball out of the cup on the 2nd green***
• Darren, with Derren Brown: Derren has moved rapidly onto the fourth, with three holes-in-one. Not only is he uncannily accurate, he is now invisible to everybody else on the course, which is proving extremely painful as nobody bothers to shout out "Fore". Or it could just be that they don't like him very much.
• Newkid, with Jimmy Crankie: *Newkid holes out. Crankie runs around the green pushing his crotch forward and shouting "Ah'm gannae hae a wee-wee".Newkid slinks away to the second tee, putting as much distance as possible between his partner and himself*
• LotUS: *looks up at the approaching form of Newkid. Wanders over pulling out the gilded book. Shakes head at the antics of gil and Peter. Taps Newkid on the shoulder and points to a pertinent paragraph. Nods once solemnly.*
• st d: ***walks onto 3rd tee - a par 5, 563 yards. Tees up ball and drives off a magnificent slice which screams off almost parallel to the ground, coming back towards them and flying in through a window of the clubhouse bar***
  Emma Peel: Marvellous shot darling, I fancied a drink. Lets go find it, shall we ?
• st dogmael & Emma: ***wlk into the bar to find the TV on and everyone watching The Open, cheering on Colin Montgomerie***
• Darren, with Derren Brown: Emma's use of the word "shot" appears to have brought back rather strange memories for Derren, who is now chasing Darren with his driver over his shoulder like a rifle, going, "Bang! Bang! Bang!".
• Newkid, with Jimmy Crankie: *At the sound of the 'rifleshot' wee Jimmy Crankie dives for cover, pausing only to rescue his hipflask. Well, I say hipflask, it looks like it's a got a decent capacity of about a litre.

  "Help ma boab!", yells Crankie, "Jings. Crivvens! Somewoans go'a gun. Ah want ma mammy".

  Quite honestly it's pathetic.

• adam, with Moira Stewart: Moira, hitherto ignored in the commentary owing to her fundamental lack of understand of the game (Honestly, the woman's dreadful. She's playing some cross between french cricket and crazy golf, swinging a putter between her legs and moving the ball about 5 foot a time. Not to mention the giggling and what can only be described as cat-like preening) leaps into action at the sound of the rifle, and runs towards Darren and Derren, dictaphone in hand.
• Emma Peel: ***Takes out a 3 wood and gives ball an almighty thwack which proceeds to rocket through a small opening in one of the bar windows and lands neatly back on teh third tee.***
• Newkid, with Jimmy Crankie: *At the sight of Moira Stewart Jimmy Crankie gets very excited
  "Jings. It's ainly Moira 'frae the tele' Stewart", says Jimmy.
  "Ah jist love the way ye read the news, Moira, and you're hair is braw!"
• st dogmael: Emma, darling, I simply can't concentrate. And it looks like it's going to rain.
• The weather: ***it starts to rain. People begin building arks.***
• adam, with Moira Stewart: *Moira lashes out at Jimmy Crankie with one of those big microphones on a pole covered in fluff* And now the weather. There will be rain for 40 days and 40 nights across most of the country, reaching a maximum depth of 60 foot - a new record according to the Met Office.
• Newkid, with Jimmy Crankie: "But I cannae swum!", scream Crankie.
  *Newkid swiftly tees up at the second. The rain is coming down in stair rods and being lashed into his face by a Force 5 gale (please don't correct me if Force 5 isn't actually a gale!). His Pringle sweater clings with sodden determination to the bumps and lumps of his archetypal golfers body. A good thwack of the ball sees it launch off the tee and struggle 60 yds before coming to a stop.
  "Hmm", thinks Newkid, "I might wait to see if this passes. Now, where's that Crankie with his hipflask...?"
• adam, with Moira Stewart: Right - I've been planning this shot ever since the rain passed; the endless practice swings, the wind direction measurements. Think I'm just about ready - (Moira, can you stop messing around with Jimmy Crankie please). Here goes...

  Oh fancy, a hole in one. Drinks anyone? Derren, what can I get you?

• adam, with Moira Stewart (Winners' Comments): What time does the coach leave?
• Darren, with Derren Brown: Derren stares into adam's eyes, and speaks, "Of all the games you ever player, this WON was WON by us and no-WON else. WE WON. WE WON." By now he is holding adam in the air and shaking him. Pieces of golf club fall from adam's pockets. Darren is having a cola.
• Dujon: "Well, after being called for so many teas there was no chance I could catch you lot" *wipes brow with back of left hand and feigns swooning* "Another pot of tea, Jeeves, if you don't mind, old sport ... no, not that one ... the one that sounds like a house in Scotland." *takes a number of small sips* "Home, Jeeves, and don't spare the horses!"
• gil & Peter Allis: Gil: Thank heavens for that, Peter. Anything left in that jug?
  Peter: Sorry, no.
  Gil: Let's adjourn to the nineteenth, then. You need a hand with these clubs? Caddie!
• st d and Emma Peel: ***head off in the direction of the most private sand dunes***
• Blob with Patrick Moore:: Right, I've found my ball at last, and Patrick is pin high, so .... where's everyone gone ?
• Botherer with George Best: hicI know she was attractive, Georgie, but shouldn't we be joining the game? ... Back to the 19th? Your round...

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