I ended my last entry by saying I wanted to see another celebrity taking part in a sporting activity. This week, my dream almost came true: I saw Charlotte Jackson at the driving range. If you’re not entirely sure who I mean then I’ll try and help you join the dots. She’s that blonde presenter from Sky Sports news…that doesn’t really narrow it down…the blonde fit one…ok just Google her (she’ll probably be in your internet history). The only way this could have been topped is if she was shooting a pheasant.
The sun was out for the whole week, which means that no one in Britain gets anything done. Instead, women drape their bikini-clad bodies across patches of grass and groups of people decide it’s a good idea to drink alcohol in the ROAD so they can catch an extra 3 minutes of sun on skin. Everyone in London is happier/tipsy? This mini wave of heat gives some insight into what it’s like to live in a genuinely hot country. The insight being, that no one actually gets any work done. It’s also almost impossible to be funny. The weather being toilet makes everyone miserable which in turn makes for more things to joke about. Which explains why I’ve never met any Hawaiian comedians. Instead everyone in that country drinks pina coladas and makes shirts for unfunny tubby uncles to wear. I didn’t expect this blog to end with a bit of casual racism to Hawaiians but that’s what happened….deal with it.
I’m off to sun burn my nose.
Thursday 28 April 2011
Wednesday 13 April 2011
4-8th April: Blog is back…and this time it’s golfier.
I’m back on the blog bus and the first stop is type-up town. I’ve been my usual mixture of lazy, distracted and a bit busy selling Renaults.
This week consisted of my new found love for golf. I’m going on a golf holiday at the end of the month, which I agreed to despite not liking golf or being able to play golf. It’s the equivalent of the Dali Lama going into the middle of Basra armed with a water pistol. The reason I agreed in the first place is because 15 friends were going and I didn’t want to be on my own. That illustrated the level of hatred I have for missing out on things and alone time: spending money on something I don’t like…idiot. I played the other day and was so toilet that I’ve shelled out for lessons. The prospect of playing 3 rounds of gold on foreign soil like an armless potato was harrowing, so I’ve thrown money at the situation. After one lesson, 2 trips to the range, 2 games of pitch and putt (1 on my own, yuk) and 9 holes with my friends, I can now hit a ball in the air.
That week I lived the life of a retired rich man, which is stupid, as I’m a working poor man.
Foooorrrrrrreeeeeeeee!
This week consisted of my new found love for golf. I’m going on a golf holiday at the end of the month, which I agreed to despite not liking golf or being able to play golf. It’s the equivalent of the Dali Lama going into the middle of Basra armed with a water pistol. The reason I agreed in the first place is because 15 friends were going and I didn’t want to be on my own. That illustrated the level of hatred I have for missing out on things and alone time: spending money on something I don’t like…idiot. I played the other day and was so toilet that I’ve shelled out for lessons. The prospect of playing 3 rounds of gold on foreign soil like an armless potato was harrowing, so I’ve thrown money at the situation. After one lesson, 2 trips to the range, 2 games of pitch and putt (1 on my own, yuk) and 9 holes with my friends, I can now hit a ball in the air.
That week I lived the life of a retired rich man, which is stupid, as I’m a working poor man.
Foooorrrrrrreeeeeeeee!
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