CentreParcs: The Handicap

I ‘m reckoning that my fitness regime has to be restarted as soon as I get back to London, I’m sure I shouldn’t sweat this much after five minutes of ping pong.

I was looking forward to the afternoon’s planned game of golf, a nice leisurely way to spend a few hours.

I have played golf before, I really shouldn’t be all that shit. Always nice to be proved wrong.

Out of the four of us I easily had most points by the end. Unfortunately this is not the best way to win golf.

what’s probably most annoying is that I’m not utterly shit, I did so some great ones, the occasional straight and true with no clumps of mud flying into the air.

But mostly, I was nearly alright, just veering off the fairway, or shooting past the hole.

I get the feeling that if I ever become a famous comedian I won’t be asked to open golf tournaments like Brucie or Tarby (though my name already ends with the right syllable, I don’t need no colloquialisms).

I think that in gold I should have a handicap, my scorecard should have the word cripple written across the top.

We went to play snooker, again I was shit. I’m not a very good swimmer, tennis is not a comfortable bedfellow and my ten pins bowling makes Frank Spencer look pro.

Lucky I’ve got comedy to fall back on, I think the stand up world is running low of awkward neurotic losers.

Nothing like a good holiday to lift the spirits…