A wayward drive

I’m glad to hear that Tiger Woods has taken full responsibility for crashing his car into a fire hydrant. Good thing he didn’t use the old “gopher on the windscreen” excuse that made Gary Player look like such a prat. Quite rightly, he has refused to be questioned by the police about it. I bet those nosey parkers were just dying to ask him whether his wife really chased him out of the house. One thing we gorillas never do is taunt an alpha male about the evasive manoeuvres he uses against his enraged females. If you haven’t lived through it, you're in no position to judge.

Now Tiger’s wife, Elin, is a petite blonde from Sweden. It was supposedly an incriminating text message that prompted her to grab a sand wedge and attempt a bunker shot on her husband’s groin. Who knew that Swedish women could be so shrewish? I don’t remember Agnetha and Frida of ABBA making a big hullabaloo when their hobbit-faced husbands ran off to cavort with groupies. If you ask me, she entered this marriage with unrealistic expectations. If ever there was a wife who was destined to get cheated on, it was Mrs Tiger Woods.

“Miss Elin,” I would have cautioned her before her wedding. “You may be the cutest blonde in history, but Tiger Woods is the Emperor of Golf. And the emperor always has concubines."

Fingers crossed, this squall will soon blow over. I just hope Tiger hasn’t been swinging his 3-wood at the wife of one of his rivals. The one thing a golfer can never do is cuckold a fellow player, which might result in unthinkable argy-bargy on the fairway. Tiger is probably tough enough to defend himself, but the sight of him engaged in fisticuffs would sicken and demoralise all lovers of the game. Let’s hope he was smart enough to populate his harem with actresses and lap dancers rather than golfers’ wives.

The major tournaments are always on at the safari guesthouse when Tiger is playing. I was glued to my seat watching the PGA in August, even though the cheeky little Korean chappie overtook him to win in the end. I told the manager that Tiger needed a good logo to convey his spirit to the public.

“Yes, yes!” he agreed excitedly. “He should use the tiger in The Jungle Book cartoon as his logo! He was so funny, like an upper class Englishman!”

“Don’t be absurd!” I snapped. “Shere Khan was a seriously weird cat with an unhealthy obsession about the man-cub. That scrawny little tyke would have barely been a mouthful for him. If he had to eat anyone, it should have been the bear, who could have provided him with a banquet. I would have enjoyed watching him sink his fangs into that big hairy arse.”

The manager sucked his teeth thoughtfully, perhaps surprised by my strong views on the subject. I later decided that Woody Woodpecker would be best cartoon logo for Tiger Woods. There’s something about his rapid-fire beak that seems right for a champion golfer. Let’s suppose Tiger walks on to the green with Woody on his shoulder. He putts his ball and it’s right on line, but veers off at the last second. So Woody flies off and drills another hole for the ball to fall into. Perfect!

Yes, Woody Woodpecker has an annoying laugh, but what of it? There is no shortage of people in the world who deserve to be laughed at annoyingly.

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