Home > Books, Life, Sex, Social Commentary > Sex, Drugs and Golf?

Sex, Drugs and Golf?

I have a confession to make.

I’ve never understood the pull-power of golf. Now, thanks to Mark Gimenez’s latest legal thriller, I’ll be checking out at least 60 seconds of the next major tournament on the telly. Any more than 60 seconds will put me into a catatonic state, but curiosity has got the better of me, so I’m willing to risk it.

I’d always wondered how women like Tiger’s ex (which one?? I know, I know) could feign interest in watching blokes hit a ball across a paddock day in, day out, and now I know … money and lots of it. And where there’s money, there’s sex and lots of it. And then there’s the drugs – which I assume help with all kinds of faking interest, so to speak.

Apparently, according to this nifty little read, tv cameramen have to be careful to avoid crotch shots at all the tournaments because the golf groupies forget to wear undies, and specifically sit in ways that invite closer examination.

I’d thought that golf had strict dress standards (but maybe that’s just for the players). Imagine security asking the ladies on entry, “‘scuse me Mam, proof of knickers required …” But that’s why they’re called the 2-piece brigade – they only wear 2 pieces of clothing – a tiny top and a shorty-short, short skirt.

Enjoy Gimenez’s latest offering. Meanwhile, I’m off to find the sports channel.

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Categories: Books, Life, Sex, Social Commentary
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