There follows a short series of observations about the woes currently being suffered by Tiger Woods, containing the normal quota of bad puns and lame jokes. Typically I have had more difficulty, and have spent much longer, at this than any other blogger. It pretty well sums up the way I used to play golf.
- The man cheated on his wife, and has had to give up playing golf. Oddly, if he’d cheated playing golf he’d still be playing now.
- I have decided that the collective name for his ever-increasing harem of mistresses will be the Tiger-Lilies.
- The tree into which he crashed his car has been nominated for “Person of the Year” by the Alabama Chapter of the Ku-Klux-Klan.
- While much of his sponsorship and advertising is drifting away, I have an idea for a campaign. A few years ago an ad on the sports channels used to feature a number of golfers standing on the first tee, each whispering to themselves the mantra “I am Tiger Woods” before driving off. I see a similar campaign with a spotty teenager at a disco staring over at a lovely young girl, then taking a deep breath, muttering “I am Tiger Woods”, and then marching purposefully over to talk to her.
- The sheer number and variety of the Tiger-Lilies is worrying. I hope Tiger took plenty of precautions, as it would be terrible if he, well, caught anything. This is because such afflictions can (I believe) cause a burning sensation, and in his case this would be burning bright, in the forests of the night.
- And if he did catch any such STDs, could he cure them with Tiger-balm?
- I’ve just had a thought concerning his, er, nether hair, but you all know by now that I don’t do those type of jokes. Therefore the words “Tiger-skin rug” will not be appearing in this post.
And finally, the whole affair (literally) may give rise to a new cliché. When someone asks a blindingly obvious question, such as “do you think the Government has made a balls of things?”, it will now be acceptable to reply with “does a Woods go in the bare?”