Just like Adolph do you feel like you are trapped in a Bunker?...Here’s Missing Links

Missing Links

As he peered out of the Ted Moult Memorial window at the rain -sodden 18th Hole he quivered with Rage.

―Look at that pair of Neanderthals…..putting on MY COURSE…that MY FAMILY established …one Hundred Years ago this week…it‘s a disgrace!‖ snarled Big Lorne Grainger.

―As Chairman of the Club , old boy I‘d have thought your policy of exclusive two generation family membership would have ensured a respectable quorum for us life members‖ taunted Magistrate Ffynon Gaymes.

―That‘s right!!… your Great Grandfather Colonel Stewart would have turned in his grave ….if he wasn‘t buried in Cefn Cemetary that is…..if HE saw such RABBLE in THE CLUBHOUSE …‖ moaned Fynam the District Judge.

―I remember a golden age in Merthyr Tydfil when only OUR families had jobs…and this very Morlais Castle Golf Club was the Jewel of the Valleys….to be a Member of this Club you had to hold an American Express Gold Club Card….now you can get Membership with two cut-out tokens from the local newspaper ….an Express Golf Club Card can get you in …….today!!!!‖ said Gaymes snidly.

―It comes to something when your Cash-flow dominates your Clubs very fabric….continued Fynam.

Grainger could only shake his Head if only his social friends knew the real state of the Grainger coffers….they would cast EVEN him out of their elite circle.

―It could be worse though …..came a cheery fourth voice ….we could let in WOMEN in!!!!!‖ chuckled Nobby Hiscox , the Club Professional from his regular perch at the bar.

The League of Gentleman guffawed loudly as the Chairman still fuming strode towards the Locker Room Door.

― Oi, You two …I want a word with you …. snarled Grainger…… was that you putting on the 18th just now?‖….

― Blimey it‘s the Lone Grainger…….What‘s the matter Chief ….what have you gone so Red for? replied the first youth.

―Look Kimo-sabe, we‘ve paid our Green Fees….. now ride off into the sunset before me and Bill become ‗Trigger Happy…you dig……!!!!!‘ Quipped Joe the second boy, pushing something into a locker.

Belying his fifty-five years, the Chairman forced open the Locker door and wrestled an item of shoe-wear from the bemused Teenager .

― See…caught you Neanderthals ……. those holes on the Greens aren‘t down to the South African Lug-Worm like the Slug the Green keeper said….you‘ve been playing golf in Football Boots……!!!!‖

―But they ARE ADIDAS Mr Grainger…….Pakistan‘s own Designer Label you know!‖ replied Bill Hill in defence of his friend.

― I don‘t care if they were worn by Mahatma Gandhi….growled Grainger….their inappropriate attire at this Club and under the Morlais Castle Golf Club Rules (1908 Edition) …….he paused triumphantly….I as Chairman of the Club under the Powers Vested in me by the Queen and the British Empire hereby declare your Membership…………. REEEVOKED!!!!!‖

―You can‘t do that ….the Centenary Pro-Celebrity Tournament is on Saturday and we both made the cut to play…that not fair!‖ protested the shell-suited youths together.

― Clear out your lockers and leave the Clubhouse immediately…….oh and don‘t forget Mr Beckham‘s Boots‘ ….he‘ll wanting them back…….!!!!

As he headed for the Bar, Grainger felt a degree of smugness as he met with his Fellow Life Members.

―Well, lads that‘s the end of Kevin & Perry‘s Golf at this Club…….please have Dave the Course Director to remove their names from the role of Membership and….incidentally we‘ll have to find two replacements for the Tournament on Saturday…..Nobby….who just missed the cut last week……..‖

― I believe it‘s Ffynon and Fynam!‖

― What a stroke of luck, old boy !‖ wheezed Ffynon ―We‘ll get a game after all!!!!!


*************************************************************************** *****


―That bloody Chairman ….you‘d swear he owned the place !!…..muttered Joe as he trudged off the premises with only his Adidas Baseball cap to protect him from the rain .

― We‘ve got to get him Bill…. He can‘t do this to us …my family‘s got money….we bought our Council House….. He‘ll be sorry he crossed us………..I really fancied my chances of winning the Morlais Prize….nobody‘s ever done a 69 on that Course …cept for Nobby that is and his wasn‘t in Tournament Play….and to think the £50,000.00 course Prize put up by the Grainger family was this close……‖ motioning with his fingers.

―Tell me, Bill ….how exactly do you win that prize?….said Joe turning his Cap the conventional way… I ‗ve got an idea!‖

***************************************************************************

―I can‘t find their names in the Register Mr Grainger…….Joe & Bill………What‘s their surnames again?‖ asked Dave peering up from the Ancient Tome.

― Try under Occupation….suggested Fynam….should be Blank…..‖ sneered the Judge.

―Got them …..Joe Coral and William Hill……… their under Turf Accountants!!!!….‖

― I wouldn‘t bet on that…‖ laughed Gaymes…………. ―What do you call a person from the Gurnos who isn‘t a Burglar ? asked the Magistrate illustrating his class bias…..‖A Liar!!!!!!!!‖ As the whole bar erupted into further class hysterics….the faces of Joe & Bill at the Memorial Window went unnoticed.

*************************************************************************** ******

Like Burke & Hare on the Graveyard shift, the two youths crept passed the deserted darkened Club-House and headed for the middle of the golf course.

It was Friday evening and the Eve of the Celebrity Tournament and the ejected pair wanted their revenge.

With Spades in hand they strode the links plotting their revenge!!!!!

―Is it me or do you get the feeling we‘re being watched………‖ whispered Bill lifting his load into a Sainsbury Carrier Bag.

― Me too, just keep on digging!!!!!!‖ replied Joe looking furtively at the bushes around the 13th Green.

―There‘s a lot of dead Sheep around here Bill….don‘t you think!‖

―Shut-up and pass the Joint…Joe we got some good grass here….‖

Their muffled laughter disappeared into the Autumn night air.

―Hurry up Bill….‖ cried a somewhat desperate voice I need to use the Toilet and I can‘t do it in these prickly ferns. In the bushes, a pair of eyes flickered….. then closed …..leaving only blackness and two fools on a Hill.

*************************************************************************** *****

As he loaded the spades and grass into the back of the old converted Ice Cream van ….It was Bill‘s turn to look worried ―What on earth are you doing on that 18th Hole Joe……?‖ whispered Bill …‖If they catch us……..we‘ll be up before Fynnon‘s bench in the morning!!‖

―Just leaving my calling-card Bill……., its the Gurnos Tradition……!‖ grunted Joe as he raced back to the Van adjusting his clothing as he ran.

―Bill, one thing……no chimes this time!!!!!!‖

***************************************************************************

―If it‘s okay Mr Grainger , I‘ll just take Mrs Grainger for a stroll around the course….check the lay of the greens…you know….asked Nobby Hiscox….back in a Jiffy…….‖

―Lorne Grainger was too rapt with the Pro-Celebrity list to be concerned about his Newlywed Thirty-Something Wife Delilah Anna- Nicole Grainger and the Club Professional arm in- arm. taking the Links

―Let‘s see Dave who‘s definitely coming today……‖ he muttered as he scanned the sheet for Welsh Celebrities who he HAD actually seen on television and not just S4C……..

―Well there‘s local comedian and Football Chairman Dirty Money, Ian Woosnam, Tom Jones, The Mayor of Merthyr, the Local Solicitors Huge Aims and a couple of Likely LadsJames Bolam and Rodney Bewes…….‖he announced.

―But their not Welsh Celebrities!!!!‖ queried Dave

―No but their desperate….and available at short notice!‖ came the reply.

―Never mind Sir the only REAL threat to the Grainger Prize is Woosnam !!!‖ said Dave.

―Yes, and we‘ll slip him a couple of swifties on the Fairway and sort out his Four Play!‖ chuckled the Chairman. ―He really will be woozy by the time we finish with him. ***************************************************************************


Out on the Course in the Trecco Bay Bunker , a Different kind of Four Play was on the mind of Club Professional Nobby Hiscox, having selected his sand wedge, the Couple in the throws of passion didn‘t notice a pair of Adidas Trainer Tracks in the sand where their clothing had been.


***************************************************************************

―Well Tom , I bet it‘s Good to see the Green Grass of Home again after all those years in America ….You don‘t hold any grudges against me for paying you off all those years ago……..‖ asked Grainger nervously as he stood in front of the galaxy of Stars assembled at the 1st Tee.

Tom Jones ignored the comment as he drove his Gold Studded Ball straight out of bounds hitting the Truant Penydre Schoolboy who pocketed the prized SEX BOMB.

Ffynon Gaymes felt a sense of honour as the Dowlais Male Voice Choir hummed ‗Delilah‘ gently in the background.

After shaking hands with the Alec Gilroy look-alike in the front row of the choir , Ian Woosnam drove his personally emblazoned ball from his Tee straight onto the first green.

Sensing the fawning presence of the Old Spice adorned Club Chairman he was met with ―Do you think I could have your ball , after your winning round Mr Woosnam?‖

*************************************************************************** *****

From that moment on , a profusion of slices and mis-hits flew from green to green as a succession of no-hopers and has-beens played out their Ryder Cup fantasies.

Back down the Order at 15 & 16th respectively the Likely Lads dressed in Dai Caps and scarves and long Macintosh coats waited patiently for their turn.

―Excuse me boys , but this isn‘t an Andy Capp Tournament…….laughed Dirty Money at his own joke besides do you think Adidas Trainers are suitable for this course.?‖

―Come to think of it , you boys look familiar….didn‘t you sell my Groundsman some turf for the penalty areas in Penydarren Park last nightl‖ said Money slicing his shot towards the Trecco Bay Bunker.

―Why No Man…. We‘re from Noocatsle …Alan Shearer, Kevin Keegan like … ….you dig…!‖ said the Ant and Dec soundalikes.

As the Party strode to the bunker the Lads noticed that the Ball had landed squarely in the small of the naked back of Club Professional Nobby Hiscox causing him severe backswing problems.

Like a pair of Loggerhead Turtles fused together , the coupled couple frantically scooped and flicked the sand to try and cover what little dignity they still possessed.

―At least my ball stopped six inches from the hole !‖ chuckled Dirty Money……‖Shall I play through….?


***************************************************************************

Back on the Fairway, the Mayor and Sian Lloyd were matching each other stroke for stroke.

Stretching up an immaculately manicured finger she said ―The wind is coming from a Northly Direction…on a Beaufort Scale of 4 or 5…..a 3 Iron please caddy!‖ .

As the pink ball landed on the 4th Green six feet from the hole , she turned and smiled sweetly at the Mayor as only a BBC Weathergirl could.

As the pressure of losing to a woman mounted, the Mayor clipped his Council-Issue Mascot Trousers hitting an air shot, feebly moving the ball some eight feet.

―Problem, with your Hard Drive your Worship…..I‘d stick to the Plus Fours if I were you!!!!!!‖ she taunted designer putter already in hand.

***************************************************************************

News of his wife‘s latest indiscretion had reached the Grainger entourage at the Twelfth Hole …either that or the cheer was for the second successive hole in one by Ian Woosnam.

At this rate Grainger thought he may as well hand over the rubber cheque before he reached the 18th Tee as they moved on to Hole 14

He motioned to Dave that it was time to play the Drinks Card…..pulling an item from his bag of Clubs… Woosnam‘s Caddy for the day opted for a Club Soda and a treble whisky.

Surprisingly quickly, the standard of Golf went from below par to WELL BELOW PAR.

As he approached the 15th Green his double vision turned into double bogey as he hit every hazard in sight ….some human…..some animal.

By the time the first bottle was empty, he killed more albatross than the Ancient Mariner.

Grainger‘s game however, was on the up and his shortcut Drive on the 17th hole across the Pant Cemetary saved him two shots off par as the ball ricocheted of the Gravestone of the unknown Golfer, (buried where the lightening had struck him) stopping dead as it hit a bird of Prey perched on one of the numerous dead sheep around the green.

―I‘ll put you down for an Eagle , Sir! ― chuckled Dave as he guided Woosnam towards the seventeenth Green.

―Dave, I‘ve waited for this moment all my life…if I can par the next hole I get to keep the Grainger Prize and with the sponsorship money and the television coverage we‘ll stay afloat for another season!!!!‖ said the Chairman putting on his ‗Great White‘ Stetson for the approach shot.

With nerves of steel, Grainger sliced a Chip that even Harry Ramsden would have been proud of.

As it dropped into the Hole the Chairman had visions of his long departed Ancestors applauding from on high………..Generations of Graingers lining the course stretching back to Great Grandfather Stewart like an out-take from King Solomon‘s Mines.

Woosnam‘s Bogey shot sailed straight out of bounds and into the jungle of Yew trees and bushes surrounding the dead sheep near the cemetery wall.

As Dave searched through the copse and corpses frantically looking for the missing ball he suddenly emerged dripping in blood.

―Tiger….Woods….!‖ was all he could manage to utter.

―No….! slurred the Pro……IAN WOOOSHNAM!!!!‖ pointing at his chest which bore his own line of acrylic cardigans.

―TIGER…..WOODS…….!‖ cried Dave making his escape through the ferns..

The sight of TWO Monmouthshire Panthers emerging at the same time from the thicket was too much for the former Open Champion who promptly filled his Plus Fours.

Grainger was oblivious to events …..he was on the ‗Payne Stewart‘ Highway and it was Plane Sailing from here to Golfing Heaven .

Looking towards the 18th he could see the gathered throng and he could hardly wait to see the faces on the Club-House Judiciary when HE WON THE GRAINGER PRIZE and GOLFING IMMORTALITY!!!!

That flag looks bigger than normal he thought as the Lorne Grainger‘s Drive flew straighter than Tonto‘s Arrow.

Landing with a thump, it spun wildly forward towards the Hole …he did not notice the BBC Cameras panning on the retreating Hiscox & his ‗Delilah‘ clad only in Sainsbury Carrier Bags…he only had eyes for the ball as it moved in slow motion towards the hole.

Surely, not a Hole- in- One on the One-to-One Sponsored Green in front of BBC ONE !!!

AND a CLUB RECORD 68 & THE GRAINGER PRIZE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Tipping his Stetson the Chairman milked the applause as he strode towards his finest Hour.

.Saluting to the cameras he reached into the Hole to retrieve his magic ball and his hand froze.

As his hand recoiled and the camera panned to a Close-up of the Chairman‘s Hand, he prayed that the soft ball in his hand was in fact a balata .

One of the two Likely Lads started the round of laughter as the Gurnos calling card found its victim.

As the Chairman realised that he had been ‗caught red-faced and brown-handed‘ on National Television he began to laugh himself albeit somewhat maniacally.

He stopped only when he realised that the 18 Pin ‗Flag‘ was covered in Trecco Bay Sand and bore his wife‘s initials.

As he staggered to the bar in a pre-coronary sway, he met Slug the Green-keeper who gave him more bad news.

―Mr Grainger , didn‘t we used to have a 13th Hole…..‘cos I‘ve counted them and it‘s disappeared‖ asked Slug somewhat confused.

―It‘s those Likely Lads from the Gurnos…those Missing Links have had my Missing Links…… Fynam ….Fynnon…..Fine ‗em and you Slug Find them!!!!‖ raged Grainger.

―What‘s the matter Mr Grainger ?‖ asked Joe Coral from beneath his handy Cap ―Have you lost something?

―I‘ll have you common pair for theft!‖ snarled Grainger through gritted teeth.

―Fraid not old Bean, we Commoners have rights to take turf from this very pasture and what‘s more its perfectly legal ……ask Ffynon & Fynam…………and one more thing , as there was no Hole 13 we both completed a full round in under 67 which means you owe us both £50,000.00…….‖

The words didn‘t have time to register-Grainger‘s legs and cheques had turned to rubber---he was already walking the Fairway to Heaven.