This is the sort of thing which comes into your noddle while you’re supposed to be doing proper writing.
I have been a very good boy this year. I accounted for all my air shots on my scorecard. I replaced all my divots. I gave Harry that two foot putt on the 17th even though he didn’t give me the 18 incher on the 13th. And I didn’t even swear when that bloody incontinent seagull dropped a present on my ball.
Therefore I present the following for your favourable consideration:
1. I would like a set of clubs like Jordan Speith’s. I would also like to hit the ball like Jordan Speith. I do not require Jordan Speith’s hair as mine is thinning of its own accord. NB. Tell your elves that I don’t want a club like the one that kept putting the ball in the water at the par 3 at Augusta. I have plenty of those already.
2. I would like my own caddy. While I have no strong views regarding the gender of said caddy they must: have the strength of Samson when he still had his Barnet; be as wise as Fanny Sunesson when she guided Sir Nick to his major wins; be able to provide a non-stop supply of food and drink to the standard of Mary Berry. It would be useful if the caddy would work for just a pint of Old Thumper and a small packet of cheese and onion crisps.
3. I would like to have a hole in one at the 14th. I would also like all club members to be out on the course to witness this achievement. However, I would prefer if those members stayed out on the course so there are only three people in the bar when I come to buy my round.
And finally…if it isn’t too much trouble, could you arrange that any time an American golf fan shouts “Mashed potato!” they get teleported to a small island off Norway where they can shout “You’re the man” and other daft stuff to their hearts’ content and not pollute my ears with it.
Bob, aged 57
Soon to be 58
Birthday list to follow