In the name o the wee man that thing gies me the grue.
It’s chowin guid gowf baws ahn crushing yin tae bits in its nieve.
Its dreeps o pushion are scowderin the girse, and it’s torn oor flag wi its clarty cleuk.
And look at the state o the green wi haulin itsel uppit oot o the hole. It’s aw humphit noo.
This’ll no dae.
grue, groo: horror, run cold with terror or fear, shudder, quake.
My God that thing gives me the horrors.
It is chewing up good golf balls and crushing one to bits in its fist.
Its drips of poison are scorching the grass and it has torn our flag with its dirty claw.
And look at the state of the green with it hauling itself up out of the hole. It is all humped up now.
This will not do.
Golf Course Closures.
My alternative caption was; ‘That gies me the grue. Look. Weemen oan the course and one o them’s wearing troosers.’
Golf courses across the country are losing members and closing. Which makes me sad because it’s very likely developers are waiting in the wings to snap the land up for houses.
In Scotland at least, the public can access golf courses. Within reason – avoiding the play and the greens. And whatever you say about management of the land, they look good. Better than a housing scheme.
Many golf courses have moved with the times though, and their memberships are either growing or stable.
The biggest drawback to growth seems to be the entitlement of older members to keep it exclusive. Keep the fees up, keep out those noisy boisterous youngsters, have a strict dress code, fitness rooms tsk, do we really need women in the club, 9 hole rounds – no way.