The soundtrack was recommended to the members by the TD – he left me several voicemails about it and once managed to speak to me whilst I was sat on the porcelain throne. Having listened to it several times now, I’m not sure if I will be accepting any more recommendations from him for future projects.

Click on the thingys at the bottom to enjoy this in full screen HD glory.

Spot the lurker

Chaps – Of the 17  paid up 2012 WHVGS Members, I believe that we are expecting 15 to attend the 2012 AGM, the errant 2 Members who are kissing good bye to their winnings for the year and donating it to the GS are:

• Coops – 2 events entered £5 won
• Huge – 3 events entered £Nil won, outstanding fine £20 for not wearing a WHVGS shirt on the 2010 Course for the first round of the 2012 CJ

Everyone else should be in attendance – happy days – however if you are not, you will also be donating your winnings to the GS.

We shall aim to meet at All Bar One in Brindley Place at  5.00 – 5.30pm on Saturday 3^rd December (http://www.allbarone.co.uk/allbaronebrindleyplacebirmingham/), for a couple of looseners and then we shall head off to the below par Bowling Alley in the ar5e3nd of town for the End of Year Sporting Challenge for the WHVGS Red, the holder for the last 2 consecutive years being Ronnie.

We shall then play it ear, but ultimately and not to late, end up in a dubious curry house, (much to the delight of the, current, TD) for nose bag and the 2012 AGM proper, including the prize giving**

Some things that you might want to think about are….

• Who you want as Captain, TD and Players Rep
• Who you want as the 2012 SPOTY
• Whether or not you want to move the CJ to mid season or leave it at the end
• Whether or not you want to increase the Tour competition fees and/or annual subs to put aside for the growing 2013 kitty – that should be interesting…. and for the record the current Board are split 50:50 on this
• Whether or not the 2013 CJ extravaganza should be left to discretion of the 2012 CJ winner or let 2012 or 2013 Board decide?
•  Whether or not the Winner of the OoM should be an automatic  5^th Board Member for the following year, to make Board an odd number and to remove some power from the Pres…

Not long til, Chav Bowling, dirty curry and a new WHVGS Board, voted by you the Members.

Yours, The Pres

Safe to say that the outbound journey was less rambunctious than the Rattler’d return journey.

“Watch out for his HEART!” – bless

Enjoying his extra dessert "To Go"

After Mike’s spawny victory in the skins, he retired to the Vaults for a few jars. I returned to the bosom of my young family, anticipating an evening relaxing at home. However, Mrs Donk had bumped into Mrs Bacon in Touchwood earlier in the day and they’d determined that a visit to Bacon Towers was in order for the evening. Mike had just lost his dad and is very fond of playing with Little Donk, plus is such a useless bloke that his wife wanted me to take some “Before” shots of their house as they begin their Grand Designs remodel. Plus, like, we’re friends and stuff.

So, at around 7pm, we arrive at Bacon’s. Mrs Bacon tells me that Mike is at the boozer, but has said he’d be home soon for his dinner. We then descend into farce – with several calls to Mrs B from the boys at the vaults, being lead by Noz, in his cups. The Captain and Millers were also present. They demanded that I join them to toast Mike’s great victory at the skins. Now, I witnessed this greatness – his four skins (fnar) came from a peach of an iron shot in the driving rain that took him several attempts to get away as he gayed it up in the wind and rain. The next two skins were long drive ones – the first by about 4 feet from me and Milko, and the last was a shinned drive that he wouldn’t have noted without me pointing it out to him once we got to the green. Not the fabulous roll to home from the Presidents, just a bit lucky for once – good for him, but not really based on great golf! So I decided to spend time with the boy, the ladies and taking pictures of Mike’s house, as a favour, before it got dark.

Finally, Mike arrived home and presented me with two bits of paper, no doubt demanded from the barkeep by Little Prince Noz. Emboldened by beer, comfortable in familiar surroundings and egged on by his cronies. Noz failed to register that he was entering the 12th hour of his pregnant wife’s birthday away from her.  This was not a notified WHV Job, just an ad hoc beer or two.

I’ve just noticed that this note is signed by Noz, Cap’n and Mike! Also by Millers, Conceptman – who doesn’t know what he’s doing at the best of times.

Now when I then drove round to pick up the chinese, we popped into the vaults to find Noz, Millers and Pete sat there. Relatively merry, slightly abusive in their greeting for me, but when prompted, Noz responded that he was about to go get his own chinese for when his wife picked him up. Millers looked to becoming more and more aware that continuing to drink and not be at home with around 12 hours until he went on holiday was not the greatest idea, but it’s Millers. And Pete was, well, Pete. After the note, I expected to be hoisted by own petard, not the rather sheepish reception that actually occurred. Object lesson here in confronting ‘bullies’, and in locking this stuff away for next season when Noz will join me and Aust and the TD as new dads who find spending time with their kids more diverting than the Vaults – hopefully so for his daughter’s sake.

We’re out for dinner with the Spittles and Bacons tonight – posh Michelin star stuff in Edgbaston to commemorate my recent milestone birthday. I’m bound to get Noz-buse, again – witness the Jug weekend last year where I was accused of nursing a handicap on Friday by blobbing two holes on the toughest course we’ve ever played, only to see him do the same and much much worse on Sunday. I suspect he might have jumped the gun again, and pretty soon, I’ll be in a position to point out where he puts his family before a beer.

Will Noz ever stop calling people out for perceived slights? He’s not on the board any more, he’s not winning anything and pretty soon he’ll have to give the green jacket and the coveted OoM Three Wood to the next incumbent, he’ll join the rest of us ‘ordinary’ members of the WHV where there is no power or elevated status!

This is the Beacon Inn.

This is a pub somewhere in England. It received a visit from a member of the WHV board on Saturday evening. He came in with two empty Stella glasses, and left with two full pints of Fosters, and an empty bladder.

It is at the end of this country lane, a couple of miles off the M5 Northbound.

This is Haresfield. Approximately Two Stellas distant from the Stockwood Vale GC.

Due to paranoia from Rob, we all arrived early for a fictitious tee-off time, so accodingly, we finished a little late. Now, the WD had forewarned fellow travellers that he was getting straight off afterwards as he was likely to be in the Doghouse with the mother of his infant child for just ‘gadding about doing whatever he wants’. Before the round, the TD had asked the WD if it was going to be possible for him to join him in an early trip home as he too was in the Doghouse with the mother of his infant child, this time for doubling up on curry house visits the night before (or something, it has to do with a mixed grill ordered but not consumed and more libations with WHV members whilst guests were at the house).

At the point of departure, the TD popped into the clubhouse to pick up the token for the barrier and came back with a couple of pints. He seemed to be in  relatively good spirits, insisting on playing his Longpigs CD whilst we drove round the Bristol ring road on a Saturday evening with him showing off to parallel cars at roundabouts. “Boy” and “Helluva Boy” (with hand gesture) were seen a couple of times. Apparently Ron had banned the TD’s tunes from his motor on the way down, and they all had a lot of fun playing a game with Ron’s ipod until Bacon ruined it by going for Johnny Cash or something. Anyway, 4 songs (all of them ‘brilliant’) into the CD and the TD was bored and demanded that the WD hook up his ipod so that the TD could compose a DJ set on the fly.

We were now on the M5 and making reasonably good time – should have had him back in Knowle for quarter to nine, not too bad. He was disappointed that I did not have all of the Sis and Roses tunes for him to accurately replay his ‘set’ from Spike’s wedding (thank Christ), but he did then proceed to flick through the thousands of songs on my ipod muttering “I can’t believe you don’t have [rubbish song, mostly by Oasis], you’re killing me here kid”, or “this is the best song they ever did!” – quite forcefully.

He doesn’t like the fact that the ipod automatically plays the next song once the one he’s selected has finished, it annoys him, he’s much happier picking one at a time, apparently. Come on Apple, pull your finger out – portable music should be just like when you lined up a load of 7″ singles on your mum’s music centre. Apparently, his own ‘Best of the Roses’ CD annoys him for chopping Resurrection short – ruining one of the top five tracks ‘EVER’ – luckily I did have the full version and I got 6 or 7 minutes of dancing rather than singing.

Anyway, halfway up the M5 he started gesturing towards exits. Conscious of our Doghouse status and the need to get home ASAP, I ignored this for the Gloucester junction – “you’re killing me here kid, just 5 minutes to a boozer, I need more beer”. So I acquiesced and that’s how we ended up at the Beacon Inn in Haresfield. Looked quite nice. Expensive houses. 10 minutes whilst the slowest service in the world poured him more refreshment and we were heading back to the motorway.

Several rounds of Mondays, Smiths and Supergrass tunes later, and with a full volume rendition of ‘Lucky Man’ by the Verve being bellowed out I was being directed off the M42 into Knowle. The WD has never been to the TD’s house, so my only option was to follow directions, which took me to a car park in the centre of the town – at 9 o’clock, just a single hour later than he’d promised – to deposit the young man, and his clubs, trousers, empties and Longpig CD to whatever laid ahead of him.

I do not know what happened next, but I do know that my ‘Tales of Greggers’ certainly got me right out of trouble when I got home.

At least he kept his clothes on for the whole of the journey.

(click on any pic to get the fancy big picture slideshow thingy, if your browser isn’t pants)

Ron had an up and down night, from wandering into a pub full of Villa fans watching them break a 25 year hoodoo at Old Trafford whilst wearing his Blues hat and seeking representation on a We Hate Villa board.

TD sets out his stall early

Ron Unveiling his campaign materials

Evidence of a proper thought out campaign

Yes We Can (and yes we did)

He was busy chatting up some bloke from another society, offering him out for a full Ryder Cup style event, instead of paying attention to the briefing from Chalky Pete on an incredibly complicated game of pub darts.

However, he ended up winning the WHV red after displaying steady darting. Full details will be in his match report – should make for interesting reading as I’m not convinced he knew what he was doing for most of it.

During the event, he did reveal the master plan of marketing, with a poster, a T Shirt and flyers promoting his Noz Out, Vote Ron message.

The campaign was successful, as the AGM minutes will show. It remains to be seen how much the Pres will report on Ron’s instant decision to make Player’s Rep into a role devoted to diluting any of the quirks that make the WHV unique, particularly R4 and the handicapping system.

The debate on handicaps was still raging in full patronising (“I’m a proper golfer, I’m a member of a proper club, what makes you lot better than the PGA?!”) mode as I left the cab, a good two hours after it started. This was after a near wobbler of Keegan-esque proportions as our Proper Golfer decided to resign, only to flip-flop instantly.

Props to Mike for baiting Ron throughout the AGM – it takes a brave man to spot an egomaniac in the first strokes of power mania and the grips of too much Guinness and Whiskey, and then to poke him with a stick repeatedly. “You’re a fecking idiot Mike, you know NOTHING” – repeat ad nauseum.

Props to Ron for following through and being exactly as selfish and overbearing as Rob and I suspected he might be when hatching the concept of Noz Out whilst sat waiting on the tee for more society duffers to get out of the way on the Nicklaus Course. I believe it was the shortish par 5 that Rob played only with an 8 iron to get a par simply because he could.

Props to the Pres for introducing us all to a great boozer and attempting to organise WHVers too close to their own beds for them to ever consider behaving as imagined. He remained affable all night as his best laid plans were ripped apart by early defections by Ads, Aust and others, and no shows from the usuals. Might have had something to do with recovery from an absolute skinful on Friday. Certainly over ordered on the grub front though, as we gave a good slice of society funded snap to weirdos and pensioners throughout the evening.

Props to the Prof for spending valuable hotel pron watching time drafting an extremely complicated and comprehensive set of rules for WHV Dart Golf, attempting to organise WHVers who weren’t really interested from the moment they saw how complicated it was. Also for ending up covered in more chalk than one would have thought possible for administering a dart board for a couple of hours. Hopefully the Intellectual Property for the rules has been secured, as several copies of the rules and shotsaver were left in the Lord Clifden as we left – it might surprise those of us who took part to see this popping up on Challenge TV, but there’s worse stuff on there already.

Chalky Pete explains it, again

WHV Dart Golf Event Crowd Goes Wild

Props to Noz for only letting the mask of disappointment slip a couple of times after losing his cherished seat at the top table. Only when under high pressure from Ron’s extreme baiting and complaining did he mutter… “see, told you so, he’s only interested in Ron”.

Props to the TD for going old school, despite assuring everyone he was on a quiet job and booked in for the 1am feed. Standing at the end of a bar with a collection of rapt and impressed bar staff, with 400 lads in his pocket, he was cock of the walk. The dormant Mr Hyde of the society was further roused by a couple of rounds of single ‘Jamo’s’ ordered by Ron, and then the discovery that the jukebox could be isolated for the front snug which we were occupying. Off he went to put on the greatest Sis tune ever, not that anyone else noticed. Didn’t stop him bellowing ‘Helluva Boy’ to the pub at large, or trying to crack on to the two pensioners who looked confused why their quiet Saturday night drinking had been invaded by nice loud young men offering to stand them a few rounds.

Gibbon Gun Show

It didn’t take too many Stereophonics tunes chosen by Ron (TD – Dakota is their best ever tune), or Brown marching tunes before the testosterone was in full effect. Attempting to hold an AGM whilst the Gibbon was in the house was not going to go too well – Baxter’s choice of ‘rubbish’ 80’s standard was compounded by the Web Donkey discovering the Pavlovian trigger in the TD’s medulla oblongata – “Sexy MF” by Prince.

This drove the TD to shirt stripping rage – intending to impress the bar staff with a gun show. The society was saved from further rampaging scandal by a sudden decision to ditch the AGM and take a sleepy Spike home. Questions remain about the financial acuity displayed – some money was abandoned amidst curry plates, and Tab 101 was short – you can almost smell the port…

The Pres will produce his own report of the AGM. Ron will do the same for the Sporting Event. Hopefully they will cover how, for about 20 minutes, to about 10 blokes and one attractive young girl, we were the great Curry Philanthropists of 2009 as we tried to save the feelings of the little old dear who had slaved away preparing 16 curries for 6 men to eat. “You lot can come every week” said a local, several times, thinking he was being funny and that we’d just not heard him.

The pre-event buffet - enough to put us all down for the evening. Worst sausage rolls ever.

TD before meltdown

Ron in the Red

6 men left standing to polish off the society kitty for 2009

The remains of 16 curries

Look at Mike’s eyes.

Apparently the hotel was DELUXE

He’s been an angel ever since.