“Och Aye, the noo, it was a huir uv a braw nicht lest nicht”. That’s right folks, I have come good on last week’s promise to haul my not inconsiderable arse North of the Border and where better to spread the lurve than at the Ryder Cup shindig at the Gleneagles Hotel, Perthsire?
Now I would be the first to admit golf is not really my game – I mean what is the point of it? – but I know it’s big in the wonderful world of direct marketing so I thought I’d check out what all the fuss is about.
And if last night is anything to go by, now I see why all you lot love nothing more than heading off to the 19th hole.
Now, I’ve already tried my hand at being a WAG – although Weston Super Mare’s midfield enforcer Fiddes Jnr has been banging them in ever since we split – so the next step up has got to be a golf WAG or GWAG.
All of which means that I’ve had to fork out on a whole new wardrobe as your GWAGs are apparently more likely to be seen in elegant peplum dresses, floor-length cowl neck gowns and beautiful sequined cocktail dresses than sporting hair extensions, “tramp stamps”, thongs and tracky bottoms.
Still, bagging a golfer is more of a marathon than a sprint and sometimes us girls have to spend money to make money, as Titus Maccius Plautus once said.
Not that things have gone quite to plan so far as the golfer I’ve really got my beady eye on, Rory “$24.3m man” Mcllroy, has turned up with what the media have described as a “travel-size” girlfriend from Ireland. Damn.
Our Rory could certainly do with taking a leaf out Sven Goran Eriksson’s book and investing a few quid in a pair of stacked shoes, though, as he makes Eulogy’s Adrian Brady – the silvery-tongued slight man from Sligo – look like Lawrence Dallaglio.
Mind you, he’d definitely get my “yes” vote if he wants to follow-through with his wood while I’m in the rough…
One man who is still reeling from the Scots “yes” vote is my esteemed editor after he put the wrong story up on this august website about the referendum last Friday. For god’s sake though, don’t tell him I told you. Now some would say that maybe, just maybe he shouldn’t have said “yes” to that last bottle of Glenmorangie when he was celebrating the night before. Of course, I couldn’t possibly comment.
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