I’m “The Hog.” I don’t really belong on a golf course. The only thing I have in common with St Andrews, the Home of Golf, is my royal and ancient beer gut…oh, and the initials H.O.G.

I don’t play golf. Not any more - not since I grunted lecherously at the Captain’s wife during a Sunday round of mixed gruesomes. I was showing some appreciation for her fine figure - a bit like my own. Anyhow, they banned me from the course. I used to love lurking in the casual water and rolling around in the GUR.

I never played to scratch but I don’t mind having one - especially here in the Hog Blog Bar. The captain hates that (but the ladies admire my flexibility).

Now I just listen to members rabbit on about their duck hooks and dog legs.

Funny thing about the bar - you get to hear all sorts of stuff. If you’ve got something to say then go on - Spit it Out!

But don’t expect any sympathy from me. I’ve got enough problems of my own.