Day 1 - September 20th 2002
Arrival
The weekend got off to a flyer with nearly all players arriving on time, a couple had even decided to do a small tour of the other hotels in the area, £2 fine early doors for Mr Lewis and Bobby Jeliss.
Whilst the arrival of the remaining golfing supper stars was eagerly anticipated the stars that had gathered by midday were starting there professional routine, 3 pints of lager and a burger and chips - very Tiger Woods - its OK you can mention him now no more fines and its not like anyone was actually stupid enough to use his name on the golf course was it Mike!
So with the European Ryder Cup B-side gathered the next job was to meet the course, the enemy. On arrival comments such as f#ck me and oh sh#te were heard ringing from the cars - yep this course was actually way beyond the ability of all of the European players.
As well prepared as ever-certain players were seen dashing to the pro shop in an attempt to buy some of those funny shoes with the little spike things on. The kid Clements produced a bag from the boot of the car that we thought he was going to present to the clubhouse as a souvenir of the good old years, the Henry Cottons, the Palmers but no it turned out this was actually his and the addition of the blue plastic bag left everyone speechless.
The golf ...
So the first tee beckoned and with the confidence that the team knows and loves the boys edged their way to the hut. Suddenly disaster struck - a starter!! The pressure was at boiling point but out of the shadows Ben Insull appeared, with complete contempt for the situation he drew out his biggest weapon and launched a 250-yd drive straight down the middle. Whilst the galleries were cheering the other players were busy reflecting on his rather dodgy looking handicap.
Next up were two mirror image shots from the new kids on the block, Martin and Clarke, having both been informed by the starter of the driving range on the right that both proceeded to shank their balls to the perfect spot, nestled right in the middle of it (it should be pointed out at this point - My ball went a lot futher than Steves - K).
Next on the Tee and representing England, Scotty Lewis - no pressure here, this young up and coming player resembles Monty so no probs, oh no another shanky top spinner runner - hell of a shot. The others that followed by Bobby and Ricky were equally as impressive however they got lucky as the starter had claimed he needed the loo so they weren't seen.
Final grouping of Steer, Bentley and Baverstock. Mike had an immediate advantage by wearing the shorts, clearly the weather reports he had been receiving from his management team hadn't disappointed. Suddenly cries of bandit were echoing around the first as he matched the awesome power of Insull and split the fairway in two with a 250+ thunder bolt. The young pretender Baverstock still in a state of shock from previous rounds in recent weeks was very uncomfortable on the tee and it showed with a rather tasty power draw, known on the tour as the Bavers ducky hook, its OK though he's still in play as it cleared the big tree 100 yds on the left. Bentley is new to the game but has taken to it like a duck to Peking, nothing fancy on the first a slight Sally Gunnell, as I seem to remember.
Well as the hours passed and the fines amounted the scores were looking impressive, after 9 rumour had it that Ricky had secured his first point, Bobby had broken 5 and Ben had used his best shot of the weekend on the first tee.
Ricky wore the tiara, Alan was suffering from Tourettes and his uncontrollable swearing was clearly going to buy us a small pub later that night. So by the 18th green stood the finished players looking like broken men there was only one thing that could fix this, well two, the arrival of beer and the arrival of the evenings entertainment, yep the chuckle brother himself Chopper.
The evening session
Having amassed in the splendour of the hotels dining room on a table big enough to seat 4 comfortably the group tucked into what can only be described as sh#te. This was having waited about an hour for a beer for which someone was stitched up and had to sign for. Larry was in top form having arrived from the South coast refreshed, this boy should be the most refreshed man in the world having done about a week's work in the last 26 years.
He didn't waste anytime; firstly Jordan and her poor innocent new born were the victims as Larry dismissed the inflated beauty and her child, 'that damn things blind'. He could only top this by describing his fetishes and some rather unsavoury experiences he and his gay lover had shared in Sydney, something involving a back, sack and crack for fifty - enough said.
Having spent what felt like three and a half days in the world's worst restaurant the decision was made to visit the Waterfront. The gang perused the promenade like a scene from Reservoir Dogs and then elected Charlies or Chaplins or something like that as the lucky venue for the ladies of Bristol. However before entering a trip to the bank was needed where a cleverly hatched plan was underway. We were to enter in-groups of 3 or 4, brilliant.
So having waited for Ricky and his two sidekicks to enter it was the turn of Dan, Alan and Steve, who thwarted the attention of the bouncers with ease, stealth like. Although hang on a minute whilst standing next to the bouncer Ricky announces 'alright guys hope you don't mind but I just used the whip to pay for me to get in' luckily the intelligence of the bouncers was just below Ricky's otherwise our cover was nearly blow.
The whip was decided and £20 went in from each of the seasoned golfing professionals, the money being the responsibility of Ricky. Suddenly with £200 in his pocket he had taken on a new character, this wasn't the quiet, retiring Ricky we knew no an alter ego was born and Ricky the Godfather was now before us. Looking smoother than a malt he graced the bar and hit the barmaid with more lines than Danielle Westbrook has snorted. 10 minutes had passed and he had changed again it was now Ricky Travolta as he danced his way to the bar each time returning with a new drink. Lager, Lager, Lager, Vodka n Redbull, B52, Lager, Holsten Pills and Cider, hang on a minute, Holsten Pills and Cider, what had happened. It was OK Ricky declared it was all he could afford as he had been using the whip to buy the barmaids drinks all night.
Watch out bandits at 6 O'clock, the sirens were ringing as it appeared a group of local lasses had approached and needed approaching. Bavertsock in first, bravest move I've ever seen, no wingman but straight for the easy target the naïve looking blonde, text book manoeuvre. Joined by Jelliss, Lewis, Larry and others this was looking promising. Suddenly Al had decided that a drink wasn't a real drink unless you could set it alight in your mouth. So with a few flaming Sambukas sunk the dance floor was the next target. Suddenly it appeared that Clarke and his brightly lit shirt and flown the nest and were working some other bandits over on the dance floor, brilliantly done.
With the dance floor bustling with more oldies than a night at the bingo, the Bournemouth boy's dance moves were having the desired effect and impressing the lovely local ladies.
With closing time approaching, Ricky called in more whip money and another £100 was collected. We got one drink for this but Ricky was still plying the barmaids with booze, our booze. By the time we had left Ricky or should I say we had bought the rather unattractive barmaid a small one bed flat in the centre of Bristol and Ricky had left empty handed, something's never change.
Its OK though as Al had rounded the 4 bandits / women for a party back at ours. So back to the room and suddenly it was Al's turn to play Jelliss the Godfather. As he laid back on his bed arms behind his bed with two beauties he announced he was a London lad living in Canary Wharf he seemed pretty pleased with himself. But he had made a school boy error, two doesn't go into one, pick and stick were the cries coming from Baverstock but no Al thought in his new Godfather role he could take both of the ladies on.
So having ordered a small bars worth of booze and Chops had cleared the
minibar the night faded away, Baverstock laying lifelessly on the bed
with the naïve blonde, Larry looking longingly into the eyes of the
small permed beauty and Al still playing the role of Peter Stringfellow
with the two lovelies.
In the meantime the boys downstairs in the bar were being challenged to
a putting competition from some gob sh#te in the hotel, £1000 a
put was the challenge, well Ben thought about it and decided it would
be far more proactive just to knock him out - well nearly but he had good
intentions.
So with day 1 drawing to a close, the golf was poor the women poorer and the heads sorer but Larry had got the permed beauties phone number so all was not lost.
Steve takes a well earnt break by attempting to look
like a teapot (badly).
Scott russles in the bush in search of his ball.
Ladies: These ones couldn't get away quick enough!
Chopper: Clearly f*cked after his "Back, crack
and sack for $50".
Buggys: for lazy b*ggers.
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Anything seen on this site could be a total lie and be completly made up by either Mr D Bavistock or Mr K Martin.