Pub Golf
Ah, the smell of the fairway, the glint of the green, the feeling of having a solid lump of metal in your hands so you can smack a small ball miles away and walk after it...Well, that's REAL golf. We're Korfballers, we don't want a good walk/crawl spoilt by that! That's why we had an evening of Pub Golf instead.
I think next time this happens, I might have to emphasize the importance of the rules. A sip? Did you just take a sip?
Amyway, here's the photos from the evening.
Nath.
Oh, almost forgot. I think Rich O'Brien won in the end, well, it was the best score card I saw anyway. Big Korfball Kudos points heading your way.
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Beneath James' calm exterior a level of trepidation sat brewing, aware of the night ahead. |
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Actually, that jumper isn't all that bad. |
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Why's Amy the only one smiling? Joey looks nervous and Iain looks heavily sedated. |
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It's ok. I was well aware of the camera being infront of me but had to look down as James sneaked in a crafty upper-cut to my chin. |
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Hmm, there's something strangely familiar about this picture of Elly, I just can't put my finger on it. |
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Hang on a moment... They're all drinking the same drink? (Audience shouts - "It's the same hat!") |
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Craig extols the virtues of Lime in drinks. |
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Caroline drinks green stuff. |
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Mel walks up holding a pint of Snakey-B with a sausage roll floating in it. Some people, honestly. |
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Rich and I show the true characteristics of an alcoholic... that utterly resigned dejection when you realise you've finished your drink. |
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Now, where's salty third hand gone? |
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Obviously, it all got a little too much for Craig. Amy has that 'Your such an amateur' look on her face. |
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What? They've completely run out of Twiglets? It's ok, they make me violent anyway... |
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Stop messing about. Sit up straight. Compose yourselves! |
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There, that's better. |
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Mel-o-dramatic moment. |
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You know where this is going, don't you? |
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Down in.... |
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...one. Hard Kor(f), you know the score! The observant among you will have noticed that my ears are the same colour as my drink. |
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Ah, best buds. Disturbingly, Joey's subconscious seems to have taken the form of a drunken golfing attire clad Craig. Ah, we need not delve any deeper into that psyche of his. |
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I asked for a shot of coke at the bar. Needless to say, I got an odd look back. |
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Looking a little 't'ed off. |
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The photographer's not the only one taking shots here. |
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Caroline savours the flavour. |
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Pen & Wig. |
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Not content with just drinking, Mike and I try out a new drinking technique. |
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I'm enjoying this really, no, honestly, I am. Damn these short arms of mine. |
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James puts us all to shame by drinking effortlessly, rather like a contortionist fish. |
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No, the camera's over here! |
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I think if Amy 'haribo' Shillabeer looked any happier here, she would have exploded, saying that though, she 'flipped her wig' on pancake day if memory serves. |
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Iain found something rather disagreeable with his drink. |
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Donna and Sally have a quick chuckle as someone with unfeasably large hands pushes me in the back... |
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Hey, nice Uvula! |
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And exactly who's shoes are these?? |
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After giving us an insight into her tonsular region, Caroline strikes a far more conventional pose. |
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"Oh my, where did you come from?", exclaimed Elly in a surpised tone. |
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Rather like an Imelda Marcos of hats, Elly seemed to collect a few over the night. I would have said something but as you can see, she was armed. |
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In a recent survey, 78% of people thought that weight for weight, there were substationally more nuts on the righthand side of this photograph than compared to the left. |
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I asked Josh if he wanted to try my tanktop on. He said no. |
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Trying to out-flash the camera with your teeth, eh? |
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Terry waits patiently, listening to the little voices in his pint, waiting for them to tell him what to do. |
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Craig is caught unawares by a paparazzi style shot. |
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James looks wistful as someone shoves a pint of beer up the camera's nose. |
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There she goes again, yet another hat. |
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Me? That's never a picture of me! Is it? |
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Look at Iain rubbing his hands together with glee... |
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That's a little below the belt isn't? |
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We're all happy campers. |
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Ah, the two polar opposites. The teetotaller, the complete drunk. Living in perfect harmony! What a great couple of loons we make! |
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Jacqui gets ready to 'rearrange' the camera with her golfclub. |
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She then threatens to roll up her jeans and unleash her socks. Careful, they're pink and diamondy... |
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Ok. I'm eating the peanuts, I'm wearing the peanuts on my face and I've got them in my eyes. |
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Hang on, what's my motivation here? I'm thinking nutty... |
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Be the peanut, be the peanut, I AM THE PEANUT! |
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A cheeky little grin from Yo. |
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Hello, who's hiding here? |
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Craig assists someone who obviously can't handle their golf. |
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Please, don't! |
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Masters of Grin! |
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Mel looks on with disbelief and horror as Craig relieves himself against the quiz machine. |
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Ok, who let Charlie Chaplin in? |
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And who shaved his moustache off?? |
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One too many? Hmm, Sallly loses the power to stand up. |
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I have no idea what's going on here. Why's Mel sensoring James' knee? Who knows? |
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Charlotte, looking suitabley cold and confused! |
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And just for shits and giggles, here's Mel's bum. |
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I'm not sure who's enjoying this piggy-back more here. |
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Strutting their funky stuff. |
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Let's see, how many people can you fit in a phonebox? |
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This many it would seem. |
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Getting out appears to be another matter though... |
