I’ve been stressed for the past couple of weeks.

A combination of things, mainly busy. So much work to do, so little time to do it in.

It’s been getting to me a bit. Things hanging over me that simply MUST be done. Clients who CAN’T be fobbed off any more.

Short Tony sticks his head over the fence.

“Fancy a game of golf?”

“Not half!” I reply.

The LTLP and I retire to discuss tactics. Short Tony is a very competitive man, and clearly we will need a well-thought-out plan to defeat him.

I have my Nike trainers, but they are especially formulated for running, so may actually have a negative effect on a sport so sedate as golf. In the end, we decide to zip in to Fakenham to buy Isotonic drinks.

Isotonic drinks are what championship sportspeople have. They are cunningly and scientifically formulated to balance all the fluid you use whilst you exert yourself, their main ingredients being water, sugar, salt, sweat and piss. Short Tony will regret his arrogant challenge.

We run out of time so stop outside the chocolate factory shop instead.

(Note – a factory that makes chocolate. Not a factory made of chocolate. That would be foolish. Not even the Three Little Pigs knew that little about modern construction techniques.)

It isn’t like those fake factory outlet villages that have all sprung up recently, but a genuine broom cupboard-sized room at the back of the chocolate factory. You can pick up wodges of stuff for next-to-nothing. We wander in, dodging crowds of Oompa-Loompas.

They don’t make Lucozade, so we buy some Isotonic chocolate instead.

By the time we tee off, my lost bodily fluids have been thoroughly replaced and I am, in fact, 16% cocoa solid. We agree that if Short Tony insists on a drugs test we will say that the LTLP administered it to me without my knowledge and/or I fell off my bike and can’t take it.

The plan works and I cruise to victory.

You yanks better watch out in the Ryder cup.

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