The 2026 Open.
As the Americans were bombing the shit out of Iran, we bombed the shit out of some of the central north island’s most pristine courses. And adjoining shitters. Severely hobbled by the unavailability of the majority of the OG golfers, 8 persevered. And there was a worthy winner. Darcy scooped it by being the golfer with the best staying power. And the most points. He clearly operates very well on very little sleep, multiple saunas, and long trousers. He banked a ridiculous amount of early points on Friday (40 fucking 3) but then came out and stormed Wairakei on the back of 2 hour’s Kip. Despite considering scratching a week earlier, Adi returned from heart surgery and mounted a stabie-fuelled charge that must’ve got his surgeons, and Darce, worried. 21 handicap? My fucking arse.
Scotty was in the final group on Sunday and came in hot after a win at the G8. Sadly I wasted ten bucks backing him on the Lord’s day, and he was swept aside by the duelling cousins. Jimmy Moore offered very little apart from booming burps that reverberated around the beautifully manicured grounds and startled deer.
In the first group, no one threatened. The takehe at Wairakei looked nervously at my coke-riddled Sunday swing, and for good reason. When you can barely hit a ball, endangered birds have never been more at risk. A solid 23 stabies secured me the Dildo Baggins award. Bob pushed me hard, but ultimately I had my big fat hands on the big fat award. Let’s not mention the controversial ‘clean and place out of a stream’, it’s mine. ‘Cough’
Mitch didn’t fair much better. 24 points on Day 3. In mine and his defence, watching Wonky and Bob share a cart was very distracting and frustrating. The Odd Couple weaved their way around the course, parking in all the wrong places, forgetting clubs, and doing a terrible keystone cops rendition. Cunts.
And staying in cart related chat, ‘Cart Gate’ certainly brought an odorous stink to the final day. One of the workers in the pro shop decided he was going to play a blinder. He gets an award for being the most confusing cunt ever. And earning the obvious title of ‘Cart Cunt’. He did a terrible job at explaining to everyone that Adi couldn’t ride alone in a cart. Countless chats and lots of aggro later it turned out Adi and Scott could share a cart. A revelation that rendered all the previous chat unnecessary and irrelevant. Not what one needs before a chilled $290 golf round.
But overall it was a great outing. Thanks to everyone for coming, of course we missed all you guys who couldn’t make it, but we got a very worthy winner. Darcy certainly has his arms full with both fucking trophies. Greedy cunt. Get out there and practice or we’ll have to hobble him.
Some awards:
The ‘Playing Possum Award’ goes to Adi for convincing us he was on death’s door. Spoiler, he wasn’t.
The ‘Stimp Meter Mangler’ goes to Wonky for his efforts to ruin greens while repairing them.
The ‘Party Pig’ award goes to James Moore for missing Friday’s round so he could do his bit for Colombia’s economy.
And finally the ‘Most likely to be eaten’ award goes to me and my neck. Still have multiple welts from the barrage of midges at Kinloch. Also, $400, fuck off.
Cheers, chaps.
Ben
Postscript.
Never in the history of golf has an unscheduled Shituation just before tee-off been useful to anyone's campaign. As I sat entombed in the Auschwitz of ass-movements panicking, it crossed my mind that rushing back to the teebox could genuinely have resulted in the first ever on course pants shitting. This is not ideal prep.
Having escaped the shitter unstained I hastened to the teebox in a panic. Four mega Karens eyeballed me upon arrival. Thankfully Scotty, a man unperturbed by the situation was waiting for me. I then proceeded to hit 6 bunker shots on the first 3 holes….
Adi
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