Golf
Wamboin has a somewhat different golf course where the 18 fairways are spread over four properties and the Bingley Way Community Centre. All putting surfaces on our golf course, except for one carefully manicured green, are sand greens.
On the first Sunday of each month we meet at the Community Hall in Bingley Way (usually at 12.15pm for a 12.30pm start) to sort out the competition. First time golfers and children are welcome to try their skills. We hit off on different holes to ensure a more even finish time.
Then it is back to the Hall where tall stories and presentations are mixed with nibblies and drinks. Partners, friends and relatives of the golfers also join in this social activity.
Contact
Peter Greenwood 6238 3358
February Competition Results
Sunday, 5 February. If you are still suffering the effects of the festive season you should have attended the Wamboin February Detox Pennant when our Applied Abstinence Program taught you how to say no to intoxicating liquors and to expel toxins. The day was sponsored by those golfing stalwarts, the Schroder and Whitney families (Temperance stalwarts), whom we thank for the prizes and the eats. Our kindly sponsors declared the day’s competition to be stroke adjusted for handicap. Consequently, chewing water, we straddled our bicycles (no batteries) and pedaled around the course, singing “We Shall Overcome”.
Back in the clinic, as the captain fought the score cards, we drank pure Wamboin water which, like the quality of mercy, is not strained, as my old buddy Will says. In fact it dropeth like the gentle rain from heaven which, come to think of it, is exactly what it is. Thus, with clear minds we discussed the events swelling the seas of our world.
Herr Parrot A, Gruppenfuhrer of NSW, came clean to frocking up as a Nazi for his 21st birthday party. As expected, the virtuous communists of the ABC climbed into him with cleated boots, forgetting about their own 21sts when they wore those bilious green Chairman Mao ‘workers caps’ and carried his Little Red Book of dreary platitudes. Meanwhile, in another totalitarian state, Commissar Vladimir Putrid made the brave and radical decision to replace the Demon of Damascus as head of his Ukraine mess with Russia’s first female general, Ms Valerie G Erasimov (her name is Russian for “rub ‘em out”) . Grudgingly, I’m with Vlad on this one: if you want the job done properly, give it to a busy woman.
We noted that Prince Harry, another erstwhile fan of Nazi kit, was ingratiating himself with his relatives by publishing a book about the joys of being a member of a loving and supportive monarchical family. It got your correspondent thinking about the purpose and value of a monarchy, even a constitutional one, in the 21st century. Firstly, it gives checkout magazines, the daily talkback and tabloid media, subscription TV and social media something to exercise their meagre talents on while pandering to public curiosity. Secondly, you don’t have to know how to spell or compose a grammatically correct sentence or even research the facts to write about it. Thirdly, it takes the pressure off the civil authorities and other public figures, by diverting and diffusing the microscope of scrutiny. Fourthly, it’s good for tourism, especially in the UK. Fifthly, it provides bulk filling for a regional golf report, and that can’t be bad, can it?
We expressed our horror and indignation at the wanton destruction of Dave Argaet’s Wamboin entrance sculpture on Sutton Road. We consoled each other with the certain knowledge that Council would quickly repair it whatever the cost, just as soon as they sell The Q.
It was observed that in the light of the crime spree in the NT, especially in Alice Springs, Elbow’s mob are back-pedalling furiously from their city wokeist decision to ignore the Aunties’ advice on the grog and related social issues bedevilling many indigenous communities. Closing down the Intervention without replacing it with something better was an option only for those who neither live with nor understand the problem. It’s like standing idly by while ‘Bibi’ Netanyahoo installs a theocratic, Far Right government that would make David Ben Gurion spin in his grave.
It was good to see a body shape consultant become 2023 Australian of the Year. Old George reckons she’s one of those ’influenzas’ that infect social media from time to time. I confess I’d never heard of her: my body’s pretty near perfect so I don’t come within her orbit. An interesting call by the Australia Day committee who’ve never been afraid of a silly decision.
The Scottish Parliament strikes again. While the UK Parliament struggles with the parlous state of the economy and the cost of living, the Caledonians have set their alleged minds to enabling confused children to determine their own sex or absence thereof. That’s what too much bagpipe music will do to you.
The Jockitch family never fail to entertain. Novax was back, playing like a champ while dear old dad was publicly mourning the good old days when Serbia was part of the Soviet Union.
Winners & Grinners
The captain called for order and introduced our guests, Michael and Trish Ziebell. Ted’s Joke featured a husband and wife Ambrose. The googly ball was split between Col Urquhart whose ball struck a family member in the gallery, and Steve Lambert whose drive on Barrage de France landed on the dam wall but dribbled in, never to be seen again, as he bent to pick it up. The all-too-lavishly-awarded dummy spit went to Paul Griffin for merely drawing attention to the dragging of a buggy across a green.
Wee Emma Crafter got the encouragement and junior awards. LD and NTP ball winners were Ken Gordon 2, John Whitney 2, Matt Hawke, Trish Ziebell, David Bailey and Larry King. Winner of the nine hole comp was Ruth Lambert 59/26 (say goodbye to that Handicap, Ruth!) from Ken Gordon 34/30 and Matt Hawke 53/31. Winner of the 18 hole comp was David Bailey 88/61 for Paul Griffin 71/61 with Tim Barter 73/64 in 3rd place. Well played, everybody!
Next month we play the Mad March Hare Scramble. Anyone called Alice gets to play for Free. Alice Cooper will be invited to play (for free) and present prizes. So bring your looking glass and join us at the hall at 12.15pm on Sunday, 5 March for the 12.30 pm starting pistol. Meanwhile, will the QPRC have the courage to vote for Option 1- massive reduction of services – to reduce the equally massive deficit? Or will they tax us up to our eyes? I wonder.
Larry King, golfer
January Competition Results
Sunday, 1 January. New year’s Day, the day of the famous Wamboin New Year’s Resolutions Medal. A day of variable weather: overcast, warmish with a breeze and a drop of rain. Did it dampen spirits? Of course not, but I’m bound to say that the mob that gathered was a wee bit fuzzy-headed for one reason or another. The competition was a nine hole, three club day scored by stroke play adjusted for handicap and sponsored by L & L King (marvellous people, you really should met them) whom we thank for the prizes and refreshments. So with pounding heads, bleary eyes and scoffing Berocca, we gingerly mounted our iron steeds and, in four-wheel drive, crawled around the course.
Back at the hall, feeling better for the exercise and a few FLAs, we shared Christmas stories, put 2022 aside with relief and looked to the future with hope as the captain hit the run button on IBM’s Deep Thought. Some of us complained about being ‘doxxed’. Your correspondent, in particular, was disheartened by the miserly sum being sought for his personal details on the Dark Web (I was there buying ammunition for Ukraine’s defenders). We speculated at the possibility of a new War of the Roses or 100 years War if C 3, head of the House of Windsor, can’t rein in Harry, head of the House of Sussex. I must say, it would be rather jolly to see the Poms fighting amongst each other again. We were not surprised by the revelations in Mr T Rump’s tax returns. It confirmed what we already knew: T Rump is an empty vessel in all meanings of that phrase; Mar-a-Largo rightly belongs to US tax payers.
Discussion turned to our resolutions for the New Year. Here are mine: 1. I will not purchase Russian oil or gas (easy peasy); 2. I will not join the Wagner Group; I don’t like the way they operate and they want to pay me in roubles which exchange for less than the Matabele Gumbo Nut. 3. I will not secretly try to occupy more ministries than I do now. 4. I will endeavour not to offend the Woke, the Green and other snoozers; they are, after all, God’s creatures and she must have a use for them. 5. I will refrain from giving political speeches at folk festivals. 6. I will apply to join the baritone section of the Voice to Parliament; my voice has been compared to Teddy Tahu Rhodes’ if you ignore such irrelevancies as range, tone, pitch, sustain and vibrato.
Winners & Grinners
The captain called for attention and welcomed first time players Rona and Bill Gillespie and Matt Hawke. He introduced our guests, Des Moines, Nan Tuckett, Clare de Loon and Dan de Nong. Ted’s Joke had a Christmas theme. The googly ball went to Col Urquhart and his adjustable club. The dummy spit was awarded to Rob Gorham (who else?) for complaining about the ‘clerical error’ in his handicap – it was, of course, too low. Encouragement awards were given to Rona and Bill in the hope that we will be seeing them more regularly and to Matt Hawke for maintaining an even temperament while playing his first Wamboin game under expert tutelage. LD and NTP ball winners were Col Urquhart 4 (!), Glen Crafter 2, Gerard Ryan, Rob Gorham and Ken Gordon. Robert Thompson reigned supreme in the junior nine hole comp 42/59. In the senior nine hole comp the winner was Paul Griffin 33/41 from Glen Crafter 34/40 and Gerard Ryan 36/44. Well done, all golfers!
Next month is February. It’s a short month so keep your eyes peeled. You wouldn’t want to miss the Wamboin Detox Pennant when we celebrate moderation in all its forms. So join us at the hall on Sunday, 5 February at 12.15pm for the always reliable 12.30 pm kick off. Meanwhile, watch out for XBB I.5. No, it’s not one of our new, razzle dazzle nuclear submarines. It’s the latest variant of COVID-19 which, just like a submarine, stealthily seeks out and torpedoes those of us who haven’t yet come down with the plague.
Larry King, golfer
2022
December Competition Results
Sunday, 4 December. The day of the Wamboin Christmas Cup, the event that ushers in the Yuletide as it farewells the year. And what a year it’s been! We’ve struggled valiantly against the plague and now have it in our gun sights. At the same time, that great character actor, Vladimir Putin, fresh from his starring role in “The Mamushkas and Me”, continues his war of attrition. Is there yet faint hope that the spirit of Christmas will override vaunting ambition? You never hear of Russian golfers, do you? Maybe that’s the problem. Meanwhile back in Paradise, the weather, which has been more benign of late, turned on a pearl of a day for the Cup, sponsored by the Harrisons (Pete and Barb) and the Thompsons (Karyn, David and Robert) whom we thank for the refreshments and rewards. The comp was stroke, so we hitched Putin, Stalin and Lenin up to the troika and with sleigh bells jingling flew around the course.
Back at the North Pole, as Santa continued his despicable treatment of the elves, who don’t have their own enterprise agreement, the captain struggled with the higher mathematics of our scores while we stood around in small groups talking in desultory fashion about the weather. Global warming/climate change has induced interminable conversations about what causes our weather, so let me just sum up. Out of the distant East comes a Mexican woman called La Nina (with a squiggle on the little n). This Latin American fire cracker is hot stuff. She heats up the Pacific Ocean which releases hot, moist air into the upper atmosphere. Meanwhile, out of the West comes a super hot, negative IUD which does the same thing to the Indian Ocean. (I can’t tell you how it got there and I don’t want to know.) As the rising air cools, all that moisture falls on Lismore, Forbes and Condobolin. I know it’s not fair but that’s how it is. Next year, Nina will lose the squiggle and become El Nino, the IUD will turn positive and dry heat will bring drought and fires. That’s about it.
We sneered at the reprimanding of ScoMo by the House of Reps despite his genuine remorse: anything to avoid doing some real work. We ruefully considered the nature and effectiveness of the Second Peoples Voice to parliament and wished First Peoples the best of luck. What we all really need is a treaty and a bit of truth-telling. Tragically, the conversation turned to soccer. Your correspondent always thought Qatar was an upper respiratory tract infection or musical instrument. I now know it’s a place to stay away from at the moment, unless you’re a rusted-on fan of the round ball game. I’d never really understood it until a friend explained that you have to sit patiently through the nil-all draw to appreciate the riot at the end. It began to make sense, so I tuned into the second half of Australia’s first pool game, eagerly anticipating the burning down of the stadium. One of the commentators said we were playing France and it was raining champignons. Alas, not a mushroom to be seen. Nor was there a donnybrook at the end. All in all, a great disappointment. Hopes rose when we beat Tunisia (why do I think of tinned fish?) and the Vikings but, as expected, the Argies held us off. Anyway, the real World Cup will be held next year and, by coincidence, in France which insists on being at or near the top of just about every world sport. And they are too. Take my advice and put the rent on France for the Rugby World Cup in 2023.
Winners & Grinners
The captain called us to order and handed out the presents. He welcomed our guests Ruth Lambert, Jack Whitney, Peter Baxter, Skye Rogers, David Searle and Kath and Rishi Mandu. Ted’s joke involved loss of memory in later years. The googly ball went first to Steve Lambert for providing his dextrous wife with a sinister club. It was then passed to Steve Miners for a shot which achieved progress of minus 30 metres courtesy of an unyielding tree. The dummy spit was claimed by Keith France for accusing a player of using a caddy (shame!). LD and NTP ball winners were Jack Whitney 2, Pete Harrison, Colin Urquhart, Keith France, David Searle and Tim Barter. Junior winner was Robert Thompson 47/27. Robert, aged 8, finished 2nd overall in the US Children’s qualifying tour in Melbourne, and is in line for the finals in the US next year. Winner of the senor nine hole comp was Deb Gordon 52/30 from Ken Gordon 36/32 and Steve Lambert 47/34 in 3rd place. Winner of the Senior 18 hole comp was David Bailey 95/68 OCB from Taylor Miners 89/68 with Keith France 83/69 3rd. Well played all!
Join us in the New Year for the Resolutions Medal, a nine hole/three club event. Be at the Hall on Sunday, 1 January at 2.15pm for the 2.30 start. Meanwhile, I hope you took time out on 18 November to remember W S Gilbert’s birthday. Although long dead (he was born in 1836) he remains one of the greatest political satirists in the English language. Merry Christmas to all and to all a Good Night!
Larry King, golfer
November Competition Results
Sunday, 6 November. The day of the Wamboin Open, when golfers from around the world gather in Dingley Dell for one of international golf’s marquee events. It was a fine day but a heavy track, like the Melbourne Cup. Did your horse win? Mine didn’t, as usual. Your correspondent, strange as it may seem, knows little about “the sport of kings”. For example, I thought that a gay water house was a steam bath in Woolloomooloo. However, a fine Melbourne Cup lunch was had with friends as we tucked into baked brown and rainbow trout caught just days before on Lake Eucumbene (a story in itself). The Open also features a handicap division for us hackers, so we don’t feel left out. The day is sponsored by the Club so the prizes—cars, trips to Paris, sheep stations—are much coveted, as is the feast at the 19th, prepared by Joan Mason with the dubious assistance of Robert Gorham (ML did all the work).
Back in the club house, as the captain did the sums, we scoped the world around us. The UK’s house of parliament is without a roof truss but has a new Acrow prop in the form of its first “immigrant family” PM (no, Boris isn’t Russian). We canvassed the epidemic of hacking, the personal and environmental tragedy of the floods for which everybody has a solution, Senator Lidia Thorpe’s new boy friend (should have gone to eHarmony), the BOM’s new name (spoiler alert, it’s BOM—hard to believe someone was paid over 100 large for that), the budget (yawn), the independent COVID Report (could have been handled better), sponsorship of sport and the arts (companies that pay little or no tax are now saving even more money), the escape of the lion cubs (we took one home with us), Cop 27 (we never did find out who Cop 26 was, did we?) and Pooty declaring martial law in Donbas. What that war needs is a treacherous propagandist, like Tokyo Rose and Lord Haw Haw in WW2. What about “Olga from the Volga” warning us of the impending rain of “dirty” bombs—as opposed to those lovely clean bombs, which let us know they’re coming and then explode harmlessly in the fields.
Winners & Grinners
The captain called us to order by rapping on the table. (He’s a better rapper than R Kelly.) Ted’s joke referenced a 30th anniversary. The googly ball went to David Bailey for chivalrously and bravely allowing himself to be struck by Vicki Still’s ball, thus enabling it to land near the pin. The dummy spit award was passed around the usual suspects before settling on Tim Barter for accusing Keith France of not mowing his rocks low enough. Inexplicably, your correspondent received the encouragement award. Why would I need any encouragement? LD and NTP ball winners were Colin Urquhart 3, Glen Crafter 2, Paul Griffin, Rob Gorham, Vicki Still and Tim Barter.
Prize getters in the 2022 Wamboin Open are as follows: winner of the nine hole Eclectic Robert Thompson; winner of the 18 hole Eclectic Tim Barter; winner of the nine hole Handicap division was Robert Gorham from Gerard Ryan 2nd and Steve Lambert 3rd; winner of the 18 hole handicap division was the slightly injured David Bailey from Paul Griffin 2nd and Colin Urquhart 3rd.
A hush then settled on the crowd as, outside, the rumble of distant thunder eerily sounded a drum roll. The captain struck a dramatic pose – like Hamlet holding up Yorick’s skull - before revealing the names of the 2022 Open Champions. They are: Men’s 18 holes Glen Crafter; Women’s 18 holes Vicki Still; Men’s nine holes Ken Gordon; Women’s nine holes Deb Gordon. We commend our worthy victors and all contestants!
Next month we vie for the cornucopia of the Christmas Cup. Join us and our special guests, Holly and Ivy, at the hall at 12.15pm on Sunday, 4 December for the ever trustworthy 12.30pm start. Meanwhile do your best to stay out of the potholes.
Larry King, golfer
October Competition Results
Sunday, 2 October. Oktoberfest in Wamboin. You should have seen all the steins. There was Silverstein, Goldstein, Einstein, Frankenstein and Rick Stein, to name a few. Your correspondent had a small misunderstanding with the bar fraulien. I said “eines stein, bitte.” She said “I don’t care who you are and we only serve pilsener. How many do you want?.” I wondered what part of Germany she didn’t come from. The highlight of the Fest was the golf competition, sponsored by Herr Matt Hawke and his bruder Zac, whom we thank for the preise und lebensmittel. The comp was to be settled by stroke adjusted for handicap. So, full of source water (see below), joie de vivre and all that, we hit the course, flourishing our steins.
Back in the marquee we observed that it was all happening. For starters, yesterday was the UN International Day of Older Persons. You won’t find any here in Wamboin. We all drink regularly from the secret source of the Yass River which, as you know, confers the gift of eternal youth on all those who imbibe. The US has succeeded in forming a comprehensive Pacific Partnership. Even Mr Sogavare of the Solemn Islands signed on – although old Soggy wears the mask of Janus. And there’s sexual harassment in Antarctica. Where’s the Morality Police when you need them?
Did we watch the funeral? Of course we did. Almost as good as the G & L Mardigras and more exciting than the AFL grand final which was over in the first quarter. As the camera dollied in on the coffin, we thought the card in the floral display said ‘Flowers by Bronnie of Karabar’. Turns out it was HM’s dutiful, loving son who sensitively signed it ‘Charles R’. Take that, Mummy! There’s no room for sentiment once you’re the King.
But forget the funeral; the big news was the hacking of Optus. The company quickly asserted (without proof) that it was done by sophisticated ‘bad actors’. I immediately thought of Home and Away and Days of Our Lives. Then the Minister for Home Affairs tore strips off them for incompetence and brought in the AFP and the ASD. In the interim, the commerce of the country has been thrown into turmoil. Fingers out, Optus! The turkey shoot can come later.
Word is that our ‘shire reeves’, Rick Remington and the Hole-in-the-Road Gang, have sensibly voted down the crazy scheme to re-zone pockets of Wamboin and Bywong—thus avoiding a patchwork quilt of different and confusing zones. Well done guys. Even NSW Land & Environment thought it was a dumb idea when first advanced by the Working Trousers Mob. We gasped at the breakthrough in micro surgery by NASA. They’ve managed to hit a hemorrhoid with a small unmanned space craft to see if it can be done to protect us from larger objects in the future. Beats Lord’s Procedure to death. What’ll they think of next?
Putin’s war isn’t going well; he’s called in reluctant conscripts (“Please, Mr Custer, I don’t want to go!”) to see if amateurs can stiffen up the regulars; he warmed us up with a bogus referendum” (voting on Friday, results on Thursday, as someone said) to the notion that he’ll accept the annexation of the Donbas region as a “win; if we don’t agree he’ll play the Big N card; Ukraine, and the Free West will not accept this for all the obvious reasons. Stalemate. There is evidence of unrest in Russia but the peasants are not revolting. Yet. (The Czar, and even Lenin, reckoned the peasants were always revolting.)
Winners & Grinners
The captain called for order and introduced our guests, Des and Amelie Cartes. Des is something of a philosopher: he thinks, therefore he is. Lofty Mason reminded us that today marked the 37th anniversary of golf in Wamboin. We welcomed back into the fold the two Miners, Steve and Taylor. Courtesy of a high protein diet, Taylor is no longer the Mini Miner. The captain recited Ted’s Joke after a riddle from Robert Thompson. Keith France told us how Nev Schroder ”fluked” a par at the Hall assisted by several obstacles. Nev got the googly ball and Keith got the dummy spit for general whingeing, including that his name wasn’t on the honour board. The encouragement award went to Zac Hawke whose dodgy shoulder prevented him from playing. LD and NTP ball winners were Colin Urquhart 3, Gerard Ryan, Steve Miners, Tim Barter, Taylor Miners and Nev Schroder.
The junior nine hole event was again taken out by seven-years-old Robert Thompson 52/32. Senior nine hole winner was Gerard Ryan 39/31 from Ken Gordon 37/33. The winner of the 18 hole comp was Tim Barter 76/68 from Glen Crafter 74/70. The meeting then descended into chaos as a group of radical feminists lead by Ms J Mason moved that Club rules be changed to afford gender equality in access to LD and NTP prizes. She was rewarded with the dummy which was then transferred to your correspondent who agreed to review the matter and submit a report “in the fullness of time” e.g. when Australian Chess Federation competitions become gender neutral.
Next month will be November when we stage the annual Wamboin Open. Join us at the Hall on Sunday, 6 November at 12.15pm for the usual 12.30pm start. Meanwhile, Mrs Correspondent has suggested I apologise for the hemorrhoid reference, above. She says I should grow up. But where would be the fun in that?
Larry King, golfer
September Competition Results
Sunday, 4 September. It was good to see Salman Rushdie survived the attack with his voice and spirit intact. Your correspondent met the great author in a restaurant at Notting Hill Gate in London in 1999. Our conversation was brief but respectful as you would expect between two writers. My work has been compared to Mr Rushdie’s. Not favourably, sad to say. However, golf is a great palliative. Thus, to protect ourselves from the heartache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to, as old Will so aptly put, we saddled up for the annual Wamboin Spring Trophy, sponsored by Joan and Lofty Mason, whom we thank for the prizes and refreshments, starring Joan’s internationally-acclaimed spring rolls.
Lofty declared the day’s play to be a ‘Par Event’ which is characterized by a Byzantine scoring system your correspondent won’t burden you by explaining. So, kicking aside the wooly lambs gambling in the fields (with their Bet With Mates apps) we took to the lanes and by ways of this veritable Arcadia, singing English folksongs arranged by Ralph Vaughan Williams, the 150th anniversary of whose birth we celebrate this year.
Back in Bingley Dell, as the captain worked the steam-driven computer, all the talk was of ScoMo slyly sliding into multiple ministries during the pandemic. Your correspondent’s grandma says “So what?” She remembers 1972 when the ALP won a general election after 23 years in the wilderness. Party leader, Gough Whitlam, had his CPF and GG, John Kerr, swear both him and Lance Barnard into all the ministries (about 400) pending the Caucus decision on whom he could really appoint. The big difference was that Gough told everyone what he was going to do. It was perfectly legal, as the current Solicitor-General has attested in Scome’s case. So far, no damage was done, other than to the footling reputations of Morrison and those of his Coalition colleagues who were too quick to put in the boot. I say “so far”, because we don’t know if good old Scomes didn’t take the opportunity to be appointed to other ‘ministries’, such as the Grand Poobah of Hillsong, the Subdeacon of Sutherland, the Canon of Cronulla, the Dalai of Lama, the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Pope. Only time will tell.
We all gasped in amazement at the news that scientists are attempting to reintroduce the Thylacine to Australia. Efforts to clone the species from genetic material held in museums comes straight out of Jurassic Park. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if one day the extinct animal was again seen roaming the Tasmanian wilderness in such numbers that hunting could be reinstated. Apparently someone with a scarf on his head has accused Liberal Senator Jacinta Price of racism for suggesting that a treaty, like Wanganui, with the first people is a higher priority than the Voice—whatever that turns out to be. Maybe the scarf hides the Alfoil cap.
We shrugged a shoulder or two at Elbow’s announcement of a Robocop Royal Commission. No doubt it’s better than having the nitwits who devised and ran that cruel joke do the usual self-serving ‘internal review’. But isn’t he missing the bigger picture? The idea is basically sound: having IT/AI speed up the pursuit of people ripping off the good old tax payer. So why not make it work better without the collateral damage? Put some effort into giving the humans at Centrelink access to accurate data on pensioners and unemployed youth hiding excess additional income before sending the robot to their door demanding repayment of excess benefits. Either they fork out on the spot or up come the machine guns, just like in the Robocop movies. The word would quickly spread.
Victoria is the latest state to have legislated the concept of ‘affirmative consent’ before sex. A good try but enormously confusing. Both words mean the same thing. To save you the trouble, I’ve looked them up: Consent, v. to give assent or permission; Affirmative, adj. giving assent or approval. Lawyers and others will struggle over the meaning of ‘consenting consent’—as opposed to ‘non consenting consent’ or variations thereof. But that’s not government’s problem. At least they’ve been seen to be doing something. It’s like holding a jobs summit when there’s more vacancies than we can fill (if you don’t count imported slave labour to pick fruit). It’s about industrial relations, really. It looks like the ACTU has got agreement on watering down enterprise bargaining with support from the Business Council. It puts trade unions back in the game—for good or ill. Be on the lookout for those ghosts of IR past, ‘secondary boycotts’ and ‘comparative wage justice’.
Winners & Grinners
The captain called for order and introduced our visitors, Archie and Miriam Pelago. Young Robert Thompson treated us to a riddle. Ted’s Joke, featuring Jack Nicklaus, was read o.b.o Colin Prest who was absent on sick leave. The googly ball went to Vicki Still for losing her drive, playing a ‘provisional’ five strokes to the green, where she found her first ball. Col Urquhart scored the dummy spit for complaining that none of his nine birdies counted in a Par Event. The encouragement award went to wee Emma Crafter for playing 18 holes, instead of the two she really wanted to play.
LD and NTP ball winners were Ken Gordon 3, Glen Crafter 2, Vicki Still 2, and Deb Gordon. The junior nine hole comp was won by Robert Thompson with a score of minus 3.The senior nine hole comp winner was Ken Gordon +2 from Rob Gorham, minus 1. The senior 18 hole comp victor, and winner of the coveted Spring Trophy, was Glen Crafter +4 from Vicki Still +3. Well played, all golfers!
Next month is Oktober which means Oktoberfest when we play for the Silver Stein. Don your leather shorts and join us at the Hall at 12.15pm on Sunday, 2 Oktober for the 12.30pm piercing of the keg. Meanwhile, think about all those techos at NASA gnashing their teeth while Artemis 1 sits idly on the launch pad, leaking propellant. Come on, guys, fix the problem! It’s not rocket science. Well, it is but you know what I mean. It’s not brain surgery or learning to score a Par Event.
Larry King, golfer
August Competition Results
Sunday, 7 August. A pleasant pre Spring afternoon following the torrential rainfall of Friday and Saturday. Your correspondent’s rain gauge collected 89 mm as the drive disappeared down Bingley Way. Nevertheless, the greens committee declared the course playable so a stroke event went ahead. It was sponsored by those stalwarts of the skilled trades, Trent Able (electrons), Don Evans (H2O molecules) and Col Prest (self-propulsion) whom we thank for the prizes and the refreshments, in particular Trent’s throat-searing laksa, no doubt a warm up for Curry Night. Donning gum boots, players squelched out onto the course, wondering if La Nina (with that funny thing over the ‘n’) would ever cease.
Back in our warm and dry Hall, as the captain did the tally, we reviewed our world. ‘No one is indispensible’ said Boris as his Tory pals dispensed with him. This started us thinking. It was De Gaulle who is supposed to have said ‘the graveyards are full of indispensible men’. Either the indispensible women are still alive and kicking or, in his old-fashioned, chauvinist, Gallic way, he didn’t think there were any. The interesting language of the original Acts Interpretation Act 1901 said “man embraces woman”. The Parliamentary Draughtsman (here we go again) may or may not have had a sense of humour. I blame Thomas Jefferson, who drafted the American Declaration of Independence more or less single-handed, when he stated that ‘all men are created equal’. He left women out while slaves of both sexes didn’t get a look-in. Mysteriously, a woman makes an appearance early in the Declaration’s second paragraph: “Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes;” History does not record who Prue was or the limits of her dictatorial role. Perhaps she was employed as chatelaine on Jefferson’s plantation in Virginia. Those days are over, of course. Women have long been restored to their position of power in the direction, management and rewards of human affairs so we can now concentrate on the planet’s principal challenges i.e. the regulation of global surface temperature, carbon in the oceans and CO2 in the atmosphere. We can then turn our attention to the principal cause of those problems, viz: the carrying capacity of the planet (population). If we can get that right before bellicose dim wits blow us to smithereens we’re home free. Sadly, the rise to prominence of the intellectually challenged seems to be exceeding that of “philosopher princes” as my old chum Plato would put it. And, courtesy of the Roe v Wade reversal, that trend is destined to continue.
A man with seemingly no respect for the planet’s carrying capacity, NSW boss cocky, Parrot A, appears to be trapped in the orbit of former Deputy Premier, John Barrelo (Porky to his friends). Was he or was he not in on the move to give John the New York gig? We don’t know but, as a Monaro voter, I can’t see a problem. He was an effective local member, judged by the funds he was able to inject into the region for worthy projects.
So, Elbow hit the ground running. That is, when he actually hit the ground. The first two months were spent jetting around the world. Back home now, he and Prince Chalmers are choking on that nauseous sandwich called the economy. Having skin in the game, we all wish him well. But he’s made two odd decisions so far. First he canned the ABCC (not to be confused with the ABC which he can’t get rid of otherwise there’d be nowhere to put the hidden unemployed). Then he allowed grog back into NT Aboriginal townships without consulting the Aunties who wield substantial influence in those communities.
The ABCC has been striving valiantly to maintain a civilised building industry. Don’t forget that Elbow got the head of the Vic branch of the CFMEU—a well-funded thuggish gang—ejected from the Labor Party when Bill Shorten wouldn’t do it. Watch your back, Elbow. Bill’s form for loyalty is not good.
Meantime, Elbow’s getting pats on the head for announcing a referendum on the Voice. But whose voice, if not the Aunties? (Hands up if you thought The Voice was a TV show.) Malcontents in the Middle East must have been furious that their patch—devoid of allure if you don’t count the oil—had been momentarily pushed out of the headlines by the war in Ukraine and the posturing of China. Understandably, the PRC is upset by the “finger pointing” about their peaceful aerial displays over Taiwan to celebrate Nancy Pelosi’s visit. One has to agree, especially when you see our Foreign Minister, Penny Wong, getting around with her arm in a sling in a futile attempt to hide the loaded finger.
Winners & Grinners
The captain called for order and introduced our visitors, Bill and Priya O’Wheeler and their daughters. He thanked our sponsors, three fine, upstanding skilled tradespersons. He shared Ted’s Joke featuring cars and golf (an explosive mixture for Tiger). Deb Gordon got the googly ball for a clever stroke which simultaneously propelled and washed her ball in the creek at Lamberts (I think). The dummy spit was shared by Col Urquhart and David Thompson. Col lost his 6 iron (you might remember he previously lost a 5 iron). David, in a fit of pique, threw his club and was dobbed in by his son. Poor old Nick Curious gets fined for that sort of behaviour. There were no LD/NTP prizes due to the state of the course.
The junior comp was again won by Robert Thompson, fresh from winning a junior players comp in Queensland, with 50 off the stick for handicap-adjusted score of 28. The senior nine hole comp winner was Robert Gorham 40/31 from Ken Gordon 39/35 OCB from David Thompson 53/35. Winner of the 18 hole comp was Tim Barter 70/60 from Colin Urquhart 89/62 and Neville Schroder OCB 77/66. Well done, guys. Those waders came in handy.
Next month is Spring, when we hold the famous Spring Trophy (yes, it’s a real spring from someone’s bed). We hope you can join us at the Community Hall at 12.15pm on Sunday, 4 September for the usual 12.30pm scatter gun start. Bring an appetite for Joan’s spring rolls. Meanwhile, spare a thought for our Bungendore friends who were busily sand-bagging their properties as 100mm or thereabouts from Friday’s deluge gushed down Gibraltar Street like a torrent down its bed, as my close buddy, A B Patterson, put it. Finally, vale Dave Argaet, stone mason and musician. “Si monumentum requiris circumspice”, especially at the corner of Norton and Sutton Roads.
Larry King, sometime golfer.
July Competition Results
Sunday, 3 July. It had to happen. Despite our healthy diet and Pilates-driven lifestyle the plague came to Wamboin with a vengeance in June. It struck at the 19th hole and was carried into the fire brigade AGM the following Tuesday. To protect his privacy I’m unable to reveal the name of the suspected super-spreader. For the avoidance of doubt I’ll repeat that I am not able to reveal his name for privacy reasons. He’s no longer a regular golfer but attends the 19th when he is able. Before joining us at the Hall he spent the afternoon reforming his kitchen counter.
That reminds me of the Counter Reformation, set in train by the Council of Trent 1545 - 1563 in response to the Protestant Reformation begun by Martin Luther. I pass this on for what it’s worth. So, there was your correspondent trying to tap out this month’s golf report and getting nowhere until an old mate who works for CIT in Canberra put me onto a top notch complexity and systems thinker who said he could coach and mentor me through the process of developing improved situational awareness and generalised and context-specific responses. He reckoned that before long I’d be able to detect early/weak signals and build trends to improve products and services and establish and self-sustain practices that allow for iterative learning cycles across a range of temporal and spatial scales.
Now, I’m not saying that’s two tonnes of horse manure in a one tonne bag. All I’m saying is that it sounds like two tonnes of horse manure in a one tonne bag. It makes the Stableford system of golf scoring look simple and straightforward.
And on the subject of golf, this month’s comp commemorates the anniversary of the GST by adding 10% to your handicap and giving it to ATO who gives it to Elbow who gives it to AEMO who gives it to the generators who trouser it just for doing what we pay them to do anyway. The day, cold and windy, was sponsored by Judith Evans, Kathy Handel and Keith France whom we thank for the provender and the rewards. Play in both the nine and 18 hole divisions was to be decided by a 2-ball Ambrose.
Back in the think tank, as the a/g captain and his complexity thinker fought the algorithm that made sense of our score cards, the talk was all of the US Supreme Court’s quashing of Roe v Wade. The ladies (bless’em) were particularly vocal. I asked the Club President how I should cover it in my report. He said that as it affected Associate Members only, we should leave it alone. Hmmm.
Moving along, prominent Russian politicians have sometimes adopted noms de guerre or aliases. It started with Vladimir Ilyich Ulyanov, aka Lenin. Then came Ioseb Besarionis dze Jughashvili, aka Stalin. And now we’ve got Vladimir Sonovabich Putin, aka Peter the Great—at least in his own estimation. He’s comparing his “special military operation” in Ukraine to Peter’s nicking parts of Sweden. Peter wasn’t such a nice guy either; he had more serfs than Stephanie Gilmore, Mick Fanning and Kelly Slater combined. Meanwhile the war creeps on apace, as my old mate Will would say. Neither Putin nor Zelensky can stop now, absent force majeure from within. Russia will scrabble out some kind of a win unless the West stumps up with some serious weaponry. Even then, the Russkies know how to put up a fight: play the 1812 Overture as you google Stalingrad.
Australian energy Czar, Chris Bowen, has announced a new mechanism for the AEM, i.e. what the AEMO looks after. It’s got something to do with keeping fossil generating capacity up the sleeve pending renewables taking up the national load. (Wasn’t that what we were supposed to be doing already?) The details don’t matter because it doesn’t really click in until 2025, by which time we’ll have a brand new fast-breeder reactor at Woodlawn. No more bad smell and you’ll be able to find your kids in the dark. The Greens have announced they’re opposed to it. They’ve also said they’ll oppose the government’s plan to cut emissions by 43% by 2030. They appear to your correspondent to have made no intellectual progress since they voted with Labour in the Senate ten years ago to kill the Abbott government’s bill to introduce an ETS, which looked very much like the ETS the Rudd government wanted to bring in but couldn’t because the were baulked by the Turnbull Opposition in the Senate with the help of the Greens. Our Parliament at work. It brings a lump to the throat.
Trans women in sport are still a public issue. FINA has banned post-pubescent trannies in the interest of fairness. Your correspondent, who is approaching early middle age, well-remembers the 1980 Moscow Olympics when spectacularly-muscled Russian ladies excelled at athletics, particularly the shot put, javelin and discuss.
We expressed dismay at the release from prison of the trigger-happy Minneapolis policeman who shot and killed Australian-American Justine Damond in 2017. Even our Comancheros don’t shoot innocent bystanders. We agreed he was a loose cannon or incompetent. Maybe he’s both, just like that member of a degenerate underclass they elected as President in 2016. And the nitwit might get back in next time. I worry about America’s qualifications to continue to lead the free world. But who else is there? The UK is in the hands of an unkempt party animal. In France M. Macron has only a tenuous hold on the legislature despite a strong endorsement as President. Angela is no longer uber alles in Germany. Maybe all parliamentary democracies should formally join NATO.
Winners & Grinners
The captain called for order, thanked the sponsors and welcomed our guest, Iain Barter. Ted’s joke recalled a strange restaurant. Your correspondent got the googly ball and dummy spit for drawing attention to the annoying effects of Keith France’s hi-viz beanie. The dummy was quickly flick-passed to Glen Crafter for disputing an NTP ball prize.
It was still too cold for juniors. LD and NTP ball winners were Glen Crafter 2 (the positive result of whingeing), Rob Gorham, Ken Gordon, Larry King and Colin Urquhart. The winners of the nine hole comp were the team of Rob Gorham and Larry King with a score of 28.35 after paying the BAS, from 41 strokes. 2nd were Joan Mason/Deb Gordon/Ken Gordon 29.22/36 from 3rd placegetters Sam Urquhart/ Keith France 36.4/43. In the 18 hole comp the winning team was Tim and Iain Barter 62.03 from 70 off the stick. In 2nd place were Pete Harrison and Paul Griffin 67.35/80 from Colin Urquhart and Glen Crafter 70.45/82. Well done all, for braving the elements.
Next month belongs to Caesar Augustus. Join us at the hall at 12.15pm on Sunday, 7 August to enable play to start at 12.30pm sharp. Meanwhile, June has been a month of long sentences. Gizlane got 20 years, N Kelly got 30, and that ISIS Paris bomber got life. Still, the longest sentence of them all goes to “Ulysses”, the novel by James “Barnaby” Joyce, which celebrates its centenary this year. Molly Bloom’s soliloquy goes for 45 pages and the only punctuation is the full stop at the end!
Larry King, golfer
June Competition Results
Sunday, 5 June. When it comes to governance your correspondent is a pluralist: he favours a contest of ideas between more than one party for the right to govern. You don’t get that in one-party states such as the PRC and Putinesque Russia. However, when I say plural I mean two: the traditional political opponents; capital and labour. When you shake out the rats and mice that’s what it should come down to. Consequently I am underwhelmed by the trend, which I hope has reached its apogee in the latest federal election, for minor parties and independents to attract more than their usual shallow and ephemeral attention. For instance, One Nation, the Jacqui Lambie Network and UAP are no more than occupational therapy for their founders. They will fade with time but not before providing colour and controversy during election campaigns and in the parliament. The Teals are a “stuff you “to the Liberal Party who, under the guidance of their former marketing genius, have ignored women, climate and probity. And then there’s the Greens. Your correspondent might have to start taking them seriously, damn and blast it! With possibly three or more in the House and 12 in the Senate (at time of writing) they will be even more demanding than usual – unless the big mobs can get it together (a vain hope). There are a few others enjoying their >15 minutes of oblivion at the expense of the ATP but, frankly, their names escape me. I suppose the Teals will return to the fold under the new benign and user-friendly Liberal leader. If the Greens could go back to being the ratbag end of the ALP we might return to those halcyon days of stable-ish government. It’s a pipe dream, of course. As the size of the “other” vote shows, the world has changed but capital and labour haven’t. They’re still focussed mainly on the self-absorbed class war of the 19th century, leaving holes for the crazy gang to creep in. Hence, the legislative/executive paralysis on important issues such as women, climate and probity.
There is, as you know, an antidote to all this: golf. We gathered in a post election stupor to contest the June Dally-Watkins Pennant sponsored by the Urquhart/Crafter Network whom we thank for the rewards and sustenance. The day was as cold and cheerless as a US Republican’s heart. But it didn’t deter us. We’re tough out here. We’ve even become used to driving along Norton Hole. (It used to be an arterial road.)
Back in the tally room, as the a/g captain and birthday boy, Mr Gordon Gordon, tallied the score cards, we drank a toast to the new Labor government and wished them well. More power to your elbow, Elbow. We noted the PRC’s diplomacy offensive in the South Pacific in the light of their pacification of the Solemn Islands. (I mean, who cares? As far as I know the Solemns haven’t ever produced a decent rugby team.) And I’ll bet the Teals were chuffed to see all the SP blokes wearing dresses. Let’s acknowledge that the PRC has every right to cuddle up to our SP buddies as long as they don’t do it better than we do. Which it looks like at the moment; the Islanders are as good as any at sniffing out “iffy” deals such as infrastructure “loans” and “help” with policing. Presumably PRC negotiators will get better. It will be interesting to see how DFAT responds—if it can get out of bed in time.
They’ve been voting in the Philippines, too. The Marijuana Party, under their spaced-out leader Two Bongs Marcos, have scooped the pool. It’ll be a great place to holiday again, provided the latest COVID variant, Monkey Pox, doesn’t lock us down again.
We briefly considered the energy crisis and most reported feeling its effects, some even lacked the energy to get out of bed. All the blokes congratulated Johnny Depp on his well-deserved win in court. All the ladies (bless ’em) felt that Amber had a raw deal. Who is correct? (This is a trick question. The trick is not to answer it.) We noted that to mark HM’s jubilee, the new PM has renamed Aspen Island “QE2”in honour of a floating hotel in Dubai. Maybe Elbow didn’t read the brief again.
Winners & Grinners
Rob Gorham, standing in for the a/g captain, called for order and thanked all those who had provided a feast big enough to obviate dinner. Ted’s Joke was about a remarkably supportive wife. The googly ball went to Col Urquhart, a survivor of the Great Wamboin Chainsaw Massacre. Your correspondent was again falsely accused of expectorating the pacifier by merely asking a question of procedure.
Caring parents felt it was too cold for kids so there were no juniors or encouragement awards. NTP and LD ball winners were Deb Gordon, Pete Harrison and Glen Crafter. The winner of the nine hole comp was Ken Gordon with 34 off the stick for a score of 30 after adjustment for handicap. Runner-up was Joan Mason 45/33 from Rob Gorham 43/34. Winner of the 18 hole comp was Paul Griffin 80/63 from Vicki Still 91/67 and Tim Barter 80/71. We congratulate our staunch golfers who braved freezing temperatures after adjustment for wind chill.
Next month is July or SOFY, as accountants refer to it. Join us at the community hall at 12.15pm for the 12.30pm start of the GST Anniversary Medallion. Bring a calculator. Which reminds me, did you sit up for the final of the Eurovision Song Contest? We were all entranced by the performance of Australia’s representative in Turin, dressed appropriately in a shroud. A shame he didn’t score well. Next time we should send a genuine First Peoples group, like the Sapphires.
Larry King, fine weather golfer.
May Competition Results
Sunday, 1 May. Still in their bucolic finery after dancing around the Maypole, the golfers of the region took to the course to contest the Merrie Month of May Medal. Your correspondent couldn’t make it. He was returning from Russia having failed to gain an interview with Pooty. I did have a minute or two with his media spokesman, Dimitri Peski (and he is, too) who told me that Vlad was kicking the chairs around over the time the invasion was taking; Vlad was going to raise the stakes and this time there would be no more Mr Nice Guy. It seemed a good time to leave, particularly after his security guys confiscated the South American Bushmasters I’d brought with me as a present from Australia.
In Wamboin it was a beautiful Autumn day for the comp, which was sponsored by those intrepid sailors and airmen, Tim Barter and Paul Griffin, under the orders of Chief of the General Staff, Vicki Still. Play was to be determined by the Stableford scoring system. And so, singing snatches and lays apposite to the season, the players took to the field with their usual grim, competitive intent.
Back in our leaf-strewn bower, while the acting captain struggled with the score cards, the talk was, of course, all of politics. We are extremely politically aware here in Wamboin. We know, for instance, when you cancel out all the minor contestants, the fight in Eden-Monaro comes down to the two main political outfits: the Social Capitalists and the Capital Socialists. Their representatives and campaign slogans are, respectively, Ms McBain-Marie, “Keeping it Warm” and Mr Knuckles, “He’s a Knockout”. (In fact he was TKO’d in round 3 by the virus).
Around the rest of the country the campaign has become very colourful. There are, as usual, the Reds (the workers’ flag), the Blues (the monarch’s blood), the Green & Golds (pasture and mining) and the Yellows of Clive Palmer’s UAP (Unhealthily Adipose Party). We can’t forget the Watermelons (yes, it’s a colour) lead by the dogmatic Adamant Bandit and his brother, One Arm, whose gambling instincts must be responsible for policies like punting that Carbon Zero by 2030 at all costs won’t have any effect on regional Australia.
Then there are the Teals, people who might be Liberal if the Libs would rattle their dags over climate change and a federal ICAC. They include the poultry princess in Warringah who did us a favour by ousting the head of the monastery in the joust of 2019. It’s still hard to see him as a Rhodes Scholar. I guess it depends on how you spell Rhodes: the scholarship could have been conferred by the Civil Engineering Contractors Association. This time Scomes has picked Katherine Devious to wrest the seat back for Big Blue (not IBM). She has taken a bead on Trans women in sport. If her thesis is based on weight-for-age considerations she has your correspondent’s support. I felt sorry for Hannah Mouncey but believe the AFL took the right decision for the safety of her potential opponents.
In that context, we all felt blessed that our children haven’t had to rely on the NDIS to overcome sporting injuries. In the ACT it’s good to see that Helena Rubinstein is alive and kicking and throwing her hat in the ring for the Senate. She’ll bring a much needed cosmetic bling. Maybe Max Factor will get up and give it a go.
Discussion turned to China’s bloodless annexation of the Solemn Islands. I agree with Elbow: we should have been on the front foot early, say, by sending in Circus Oz to make them less solemn and susceptible to PRC blandishments. Was DFAT asleep at the wheel again? It wouldn’t have happened in Atlee Hunt’s day—and I defy anyone to fault the logic in that!
Winners & Grinners
The a/g captain called for order and thanked our sponsors. Ted’s Joke was about two Irish pigs. The googly ball went to Vicki Still for something to do with 19th hole FLAs. The dummy spit was awarded to Sam Urquhart for audibly lamenting her expectations of little support sponsoring the June golf day. The encouragement award went to Emma Crafter. LD and NTP ball winners were Dave Hubbard 3 (where’s ASADA?), John Whitney 2, and one each for Vicki Still, Ken Gordon, Colin Urquhart and Glen Crafter.
The nine hole comp was won by Ken Gordon with 21 Stableford points off 35 strokes from Joan Mason 9/54. The 18 hole comp was taken out, or “stolen”, by Clint Pickin 44/84 from Rob Gorham 41/82. Naturally, after that performance Mr Pickin received the Ned Kelly statuette but, because he is not a Wamboin resident, it was passed to Mr Hubbard (a familial connection) for mounting on the gatepost of its spiritual home.
Next month will mark the beginning of the end of the first half of the year. With that important occasion in mind, please join us at the Community Hall at 12.15pm on Sunday, 5 June for the standard 12.30pm start of the June Carter Cash Pennant. Meanwhile, for those interested in the policies the Deadly Serious Party is taking to the election, here’s a teaser: under Aged Care we plan to build a Seniors Rest Home in Bungendore on the vacant block next to St Philip’s and—wait for it—connected by a tunnel under Gibraltar St to the Royal Hotel! For the party’s full platform go to deadlyseriousparty.org.au/blahblahblah.
Larry King, golfer
April Competition Results
The Wamboin Mini Masters
Sunday, 3 April. The unpleasant surprises abound. Firstly, Raskolnikov has abandoned your correspondent in Ukraine. The rascal nicked off and I’ve had to cancel the trip to Russia to interview Our Vlad (curse him) now that he’s banned citizens of sanctioning countries. Then, there’s the B2 version of Omicron which, as predicted, is spreading like a northern rivers flood. (Why they’ve named it after a banana in pajamas eludes me.) And, of course, there’s petrol. Filled up the car lately? An irritated customer filling up in Queanbeyan was heard to complain that the only thing missing was the highway. The cashier didn’t get it. Or maybe he’d heard it too often. Any way it’s not his fault. Nor is it entirely the fault of Mad Vlad’s war, for that matter. The principal cause is the damage done by the plague to international transport systems, especially shipping. And the propensities of OPEC members and oil companies to never let a chance go by. This is why prices rose even before the more expensive Brent and West Texas crude hit the refineries. You have to admire the efficiency and altruism of a well-run cartel. It makes you proud to be a consumer.
But there’s no point being bitter about the cost of living while there’s golf to soothe the troubled mind. I thought wistfully of the gathering in my native land for the Wamboin Mini Masters sponsored by the Community Association. You know the drill: we play the Bingley Way holes twice, pausing after the first round to see who made the cut, then out again to determine the winners of the open and handicap divisions and play the novelty shots (see pix). What japes!
Back In the bomb shelter, as the acting captain jostled with the leader board, it was obvious that more attention had been paid to the federal budget than normal, in view of the imminence of the general election. Fortunately, our sympathetic federal treasurer, Rogan Josh, has our backs on the cost of fuel. He’s convinced his clutch-fisted colleagues to cover the oil companies grab for six months while the international oil market settles down (we hope).
Oh, and the federal election is decided. That’s important, too. Have ScoMo’s gang been mortally wounded by their association with natural and unnatural disasters or will Elbow’s mob again take a bead on the foot and pull the trigger? It’s good to be spoilt for choice. Elbow’s cunning plan is to do what the new South Australian Premier, Peter Malinauskas, did: forget about pandemics, fires and floods; concentrate on a gripping local issue government has a chance of doing something about—in Elbow’s case, looking after the old folks.
The Coalition is doing the same by emphasizing the robust economy and high employment. The rhetoric is arcing up but not a word about the secret trial of an Australian journalist in China. That’s because of our own secret trial of an Australian lawyer in Canberra. With the state election a year away Parrot A, NSW boss cocky, is concentrating on the floods but dragging a leg on declaring war on the 30,000 wild horses despoiling the Snowy Mountains high country. If you haven’t seen it, catch it before it becomes an eroded wasteland.
There should be general approval for the resurrection of Sir John Bradfield’s 1938 plan to build the Hell’s Gates dam in North Queensland. It would boost investment in agriculture which would become a major employer to replace coal mining as we desperately try to reduce CO2. Let’s hope the yet-to-be-undertaken environmental assessment has regard for any likely impact on the Murray Darling catchment. It shouldn’t, but we remember with asperity the affects of the Cubbie Station dams on the Murray Darling headwaters before they reach the poor old consumers of the southern states.
As for the war, the conventional wisdom is that it will eventually peter out. It’s clear the democracies of the West will not risk a donnybrook with Russia, nuclear or otherwise, by giving Ukraine what it really needs: tanks, cruise missiles, a no-fly zone and a battalion of Daleks. Thus, Russia’s numerically superior but poorly maintained troops, trucks and T 90s will probably grind out a win—whatever a win looks like—despite losing seven generals in the conflict. Seven!
Winners & Grinners
The acting captain called for order and introduced our guests, Anne and John Thracks. Mr Thracks caused a sensation by slapping the MC in the face for suggesting that his partner Anne’s perfume was Poison. He later apologised for the misunderstanding. Ted’s Joke starred a pining golfer marooned on a desert island. Lofty Mason got the googly ball for his battle with a length of fencing wire while mowing the fairways. The dummy spit was awarded to Clint Pickin for complaining that his right leg wouldn’t adjust to the ramp (some people!).
Novelty shot winners were: total Vicki Still 20.98 metres; ramp Scott Mason 2.37m; tyre Tim Barter 4.83m; bunker Vicki Still 4.05m. Junior master nett was Robert Thompson 80/51. Senior master nett was Clint Pickin 57/40 from Rob Gorham 54/41. Strike up the band for the Mini Master Tim Barter 44 OCB from runner-up Ken Gordon.
The après comp entertainment featured local band, Danny and the Velcrows, who also provided backing for Canberra’s newest close harmony trio, The Mean Girls (a Pussy Riot cover group) and warmed up the crowd for the main act, Clive and the Sweaty Palmers. Afterwards the crowd sang and danced the night away just like a marquee full of happy, carefree Hillsongers.
Join us at 12.15pm on Sunday, 1 May for the 12.30pm start of the Merrie Month of May Medal. Communists may wear red.
Larry King, golfer
March Competition Results
Sunday, 6 March. A hillside above a Russian military base in Donetsk, or possibly Luhansk. It’s hard to tell. Our editor, SB-Y, has sent your correspondent here to fill in the gaps left by the daily media covering the ebb and flow of the struggle between plucky little Russia and their Ukrainian oppressors. My guide and interpreter, Raskolnikov, and I are covertly observing the ordinary Russian soldiers as they go about their peace-keeping. Through my binoculars I can see some smoking those black cigarettes and drinking coffee from samovars as they play chess. Others are reading books by Dostoyevsky, Chekhov and Tolstoy. One wagski is drawing a moustache on a pin-up of Catherine the Great on the latrine wall. Raskolnikov tells me that a T 72 commander was complaining that, before the troops were mobilized, he was slotted to win the women’s slalom at the Beijing Winter Olympics.
But, of course, it’s not like that at all. The grim reality is that at the orders of its sociopathic leader, the Russian military behemoth is killing thousands of Ukrainians and laying to waste their major cities. Desperate to find something positive to say, the experts suggest the Russian advance is slower than Putin thought—as if they know what Putin thinks. The worst is yet to come, I fear. If he’s undismayed by present civilian casualties, he won’t be worried by even higher civilian casualties. Ukraine is likely to be returned to the jigsaw puzzle of the old Soviet Union before the West’s economic sanctions, powerful as they are, cripple the Russian economy. Unless he’s rolled by others in the Kremlin. There is a rumour that he suffers from Parkinson’s. Those around him may see little value in expensively annexing a smoking ruin as his sprawling country of 143 million people—much bigger than Australia but with an economy of only equal size—is impoverished. Properly managed, Russia could become an economic power to rival the US and China.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, life goes on more or less as usual. In Wamboin it was the Mad March Medal that captured the general imagination. The event was sponsored by the Gordon family whom we thank for sustenance and rewards.
The day was fine. The track was good and dry underfoot. As usual, the groundskeepers had done such a fine job that the sponsors had no hesitation in declaring a Stableford competition.
Back in the clubhouse, as the acting captain did the tally, we marveled at the inundation of much of the eastern seaboard. We wondered what the future was for properties flooded for the third time in recent history. Then came the deaths by heart attack of Rod Marsh and Shane Warne (surely as iconic a bowler as Bradman a batsman). And still COVID and its variants weave their evil spell through the population.
With epidemics and pandemics on our minds for the last two and a bit years, it’s useful to remember that there are lots of other “demics” we should be aware of. Your correspomdent has included just a few for your edification. These are real words but you don’t have to look them up. I’ve done it for you.
Firstly there’s academic. That’s a widespread outbreak of pointy heads saying incomprehensible things in cheesy voices (e.g. the Au Gratin Institute). Isodemic: an outbreak of isosceles triangles. Watch out for the points. Polydemic: an outbreak of sulphur-crested cockatoos. Syndemic: an outbreak that’s not really an outbreak at all. Myxedemic: an outbreak of myxomatosis. Look out for your pet rabbit. Hyperdemic: an outbreak of people on “uppers”, or compulsive coffee drinkers.
While on the subject of epidemics, there’s been a widespread outbreak of voting in the idyllic QP region. First, the local council and lately the state seat of Monaro. And between now and May we’ll have to do it all over again at a federal election. Still, think how blessed we are to have the chance. And how none of us are poisoned or sent to gulags for our political views, no matter how silly or subversive they are.
Winners & Grinners
The a/g captain called for order and, after a long wait, received it. Ted’s Joke involved a one stroke penalty for an improved “lie” (5 strokes instead of 6). Vicki Still claimed the googly ball for cunningly bouncing her ball over two players putting out on the green ahead (but did she call “Fore!”?). Of the many dummy spitters, Glen Crafter stood out for loudly moaning about the reduction of his handicap.
No NTP or LD balls were awarded as the Eastern Nine conundrum has not yet been resolved. But it’s amazing how the Esky still gets there.
Winner of the nine hole comp was Joan Mason 43 strokes for 21 Stableford points from runners-up Lord and Lady Gordon. Victor in the 18 hole comp was Keith France 75/44 from David Bailey 93/42 and Glen Crafter 77/41. Well done, everyone, especially Keith who got a hole-in-one on Donkey of Finn and is thus entitled to a free beer at the 19th until someone else does similarly.
Next month is the Wamboin Mini Masters sponsored by the WCA. You don’t need a written invitation to join us at the Hall at 12.15pm on Sunday, 3 April for the 12.30pm shot gun start. (We don’t really use a shot gun; it’s a small muzzle loader).
Larry King, golfer
February Competition Results
Sunday, 6 February. As far as your correspondent can work it out, it goes like this. Somewhere in a small Balkan state partial to a bit of ethnic cleansing, top tennis star, Novak Jockitch, declares he won’t be vaccinated and promptly comes down with the virus. Undaunted, he goes to a few parties, attends a school (he’s repeating year 10) then flies off to Spain to prepare for the Australian Open. Like Raffa and others, he knows he can’t get into the country without the jab so he prevaricates while seeking a “medical exemption” from those slow tops at Tennis Australia. TA gets a couple of tame medical students to bodgie up a report citing “diminished responsibility” (i.e. he hasn’t passed year 10). Just to be on the safe side, TA gets the report peer-reviewed (probably Lord Lucan) and off it goes to the Jock and Dancing Dan, grand poobah of Victoria.
Meanwhile the Feds have written to Dan saying no jab, no Jock. We’re not sure what Dan did but we never are (he’s like Macavity, the Mystery Cat). Simultaneously, the Jock applies for a visa and—Madre de Dios!—gets it on the strength of the medical exemption and a lapse of memory concerning his whereabouts while infected. He lands in Melbourne whereupon the hawkish Immigration Minister cancels his visa and puts him in isolation. A Federal Court judge puts him back on the street saying “What more could this man have done?” Well, your honour, he could have abided by the Australian entry rules and not littered his application with deliberate ambiguities. However, that’s not the argument the Federal Court of Appeal used to confirm the re-cancellation of his visa. They said it could encourage anti vaxing in this country. It all seems to confound rational analysis, except to Novak’s faithful compatriots who have no other heroes to admire. Unless you include Slobodan Milosevic. This fustercluck has provided more cheap entertainment than the Open could ever hope to achieve.
However, let’s not be diverted from the real sport—golf. It was a cool and blustery day for the Wamboin February Dry-Out Medal, sponsored by the Schroder family whom we thank for the prizes and refreshments. The sponsors selected a stroke-play comp so we gratefully put our calculators away as we mounted our iron horses to take on the professionally manicured course.
Back in the tent, masked and socially-distanced, we reviewed current affairs while the captain made sense of the score cards. O’Micron, the Irish variant, is wreaking such havoc on the Victorian health system that the government has declared a Code Brown. Code Brown! They must be absolutely terrified.
News from Beijing is that She Gin Sling has been heard singing The Hollies’ “Hey Carrie Lam, what’s your game now, can anybody play?” as he polishes his Jeep with the 27 microphones. Apparently Lam, the Hong Kong quisling, has done her boss’s dirty work by passing even more repressive legislation through the so–called Parliament of Patriots.
Hillsong’s Christians are not only clapping, they’re also singing and dancing which, in itself, isn’t a bad thing but not when banned by state anti plague regs. Boss cocky of NSW, Parrot A, has waggled a spongy finger at them and told them not to do it again.
An old mate in Brisbane caught the virus and was off-colour for three days. For the following three days he lost all sense of taste and smell. The upside was that he could happily consume the otherwise unpotable “vinegar” in his cellar. Always look for the silver lining.
The world holds its breath waiting for Pooty Pootin’ to send 100,000 heavily-armed social workers on a good will mission into Ukraine. It’s hard to know what further economic sanctions the West can employ. Europe and Scandinavia need Russian oil and gas and I honestly wouldn’t miss any more vodka and caviar.
In the home of the “Mother of Parliaments” an elected government is tearing itself apart over the number of knees-ups held in the leader’s digs. In the titular head of the West the Senate has kyboshed a bill to make voting easier for all. Ol’ Bidin’ Time says he’s “disappointed but not deterred”. We know who’s deterred. Trump is deterred. And his acolytes in the GOP. Putin must be laughing his viscera out.
Winners & Grinners
The captain called for order and introduced our guests Len Ivey (up from the coast), Kevin Rowe (fresh from a PB in the Kowen half marathon), and Charles Guscott (who needs no excuse to return). Ted’s Joke involved new technology to examine the effects of bird strike on aircraft. The Googly Ball was presented to the golfer whose drive from Up the Creek hit the pump house and landed on the ladies’ tee. To protect the identity of the Dummy Expectorator I will identify her only as the woman who won two NTP balls. The encouragement Award went to little Debbie Gordon who grows taller every day.
LD and NTP ball winners were Vicki Still 2, Tim Barter 2, Ken Gordon 2, Dave Hubbard, Nev Schroder, Joan Mason and Larry King. The nine hole comp winner was Larry King with 44 strokes for a net 27 after deducting handicap, from Steve Lambert 45/33 and young Debbie Gordon 52/34. Winner of the 18 hole comp was Pete Harrison 91/59 from Vicki Still 88/61 and Rob Gorham 85/65. Well played, all.
Next month we vie for the Mad March Hare Pennant. Join us at the Hall on Sunday, 6 March at 12.15pm to be ready for the regular 12.30pm start.
In the meantime spare a thought for poor old Scomes who’s being branded a liar by all and sundry. As if it was a bad thing. I put it to you that the country needs good Professional Equivocators to keep the awful truths of governance from us. To quote Colonel Nathan R Jessup: “You can’t handle the truth!” For our own good we need to be kept in a state of blissful ignorance. As they say in Dogpatch, USA: “As long as no one knows where no one stands, the country’s in the very best of hands”.
Larry King, golfer
January Competition Results
Sunday, 2 January. “Would you care for a RAT?” With Basil Fawlty’s deathless words in mind we prepared for the beginning of the Wamboin golfing year, the New Year’s Resolution Cup. The RAT is the current hot topic because, accurate or not, it will take over from the PCR test because of the virulence of Omicron and its consequent demands of the health system. Then there’ll be Epsilon or Zorba or Nana Mouskouri or whatever they decide to call the next variant (it’s all Greek to me), which we will all catch to end the pandemic. The good news is that Love Potion No. (Covid) 19 will be but a bad memory come the end of 2022. That is, until She Gin Sling’s chefs in the Wuhan Biological Restaurant cook up another viral delight.
Returning to golf, the day, which was warm, was sponsored by L & L King whom we thank for the eats and prizes. To keep the captain happy the sponsors agreed to a Stableford competition which, for some, requires the use of those little pencils with the rubber on top. Masks were all the go in the Hall for signing in but once on the course we abandoned them for the restorative air of our bucolic Wamboin idyll, a tonic the equal of any anti viral vaccination.
Back in the clinic, we masked up again and took FLAs intravenously as the sorcerer and his apprentice marked our cards. Naturally, COVID dominated conversation as it does the national media which, it seems with clever editing, contrives to portray our elected federal and state representatives as under graduate debating teams obsessed with accusing each other of incompetence. Of course, it may not be clever editing after all. Whatever, it’s turning people off the unremitting coverage of the pandemic. At one point we thought that the government was getting advice on immunisation from Mr Miyagi (vax on, vax off). But it turned out to be Mr Atagi who runs the Australian Technical Advisory Group on Immunisation.
We were not surprised to hear that The Masked Mandate had returned to Queensland. After his starring role in The Guardians of the Universe he needs a rest. On the other hand we were shocked by the news that the Scots had invaded England on New Year’s Eve just for a drink and a knees-up. I don’t fancy the chances of the Virgin Sturgeon (who, according to the song, needs no urgin’) with another secession referendum.
We commiserated with the England test team over their hapless performances on the field in Brisbane, Adelaide and Melbourne. And the COVID infections which thinned their ranks for Sydney. The betting was heavy on a whitewash if the visitors don’t resort to the straight bat to induce a draw. Unless the bat comes from the Wuhan wet markets.
Sticking with sport, it appears that top tennis player, Kim Novak Djokstrapitch, has received a special dispensation from the Victorian government to play the Australian Open. This followed a “health exemption” after a “rigorous review process”, according to the head of T A. But good old Border Force wasn’t having any of that! Then Serbia arced up and pretty soon it was raining blood, teeth and human eye balls.
Winners & Grinners
The captain called us to order and welcomed back visitor, Clint Pickin, who distinguished himself with a score of 47 Stableford points on a visitor’s temporary handicap. Ted’s joke referenced Leonardo’s famous restaurant scene. The Googly Ball was awarded to Tim Barter for dramatising the number of balls lost by his foursome. The Dummy Spit was passed around and finally settled on your correspondent who merely sought to bring the Club’s attention to the frivolity with which this serious award has become treated.
Junior winner was Robert Thompson with 22 Stableford points from 54 strokes. Winner of the nine hole comp was Gerard Ryan 22 (39) OCB from Larry King 22 (48) also OCB. Winner of the 18 hole comp was Paul Griffin 37 (83) from Nev Schroder 35 (78). Well done, all players. As usual the real winner was golf itself.
Next month (February, if you haven’t been concentrating), the shortest in the Julian calendar, dipsos try to rest the liver by abstinence. That doesn’t apply here in Wamboin where we do everything in moderation. So if you want to join us for an FLA at the 19th after a healthy game of golf come to the Hall on Sunday, 6 February at 12.15pm for the ever-reliable 12.30pm kick off
Until then I’d like to share a few of my New Year’s resolutions:
- I will stop taking the RAT on a daily basis
- I will charge only a reasonable mark-up on my stock of RATs
- I will vigorously defend the sacred site of Mick Sherd Oval by chaining myself to the goal posts
- I will not encourage anyone to christen their daughter Gizzlaine
- I will not storm Parliament House dressed like a cow
- I will include more commas in these reports
Larry King, golfer
2021
December Competition Results
Sunday, 5 December. God rest ye merry gentlefolk, let nothing you dismay/Who cares our scores grow higher as long as we can play. Yes, sports fans, even though golf returned to Wamboin in November, the standard of play had slipped a little through inactivity since June. But skills were sharper for the Christmas Cup, which, like a cornucopia, runneth over with all good things such as the milk of human kindness, rare and refreshing fruit and so on and so forth. By contrast, the day, which was sponsored by Peter and Adrienne Greenwood and Karyn Gentleman, who selected stroke play, was a bit on the cold-and blustery side courtesy of a sharp Easterly and a Sun shyly peeping intermittently from behind the clouds. Nevertheless, singing carols in four part harmonies, we leaped to our sleighs and flew off over the unusual greenness of the Wamboin countryside.
Back in Santa’s workshop, as the captain, masquerading as a fat man in a red suit, flogged the elves into assessing the scorecards, we reviewed happenings in our world. And what an exciting world it is! The big news, of course, is the new razzle-dazzle Covid variant which started in Africa under the infectious title of B.1.1.529. When it got to Europe it was renamed O’Micron after the first person to contract it - a leprechaun living under a rock in the Burren. In France M Macaroon’s found someone else to hate: Boris. Manny is sending the UK loads of refugees and throwing tanties when Boris objects. France’s once-vaunted reputation for diplomacy is in the freezer or, putting it another way, sub zero.
In Australia the federal parliament has drawn the curtain on the year as ScoMo plans another secret holiday to scratch his head in bewilderment over the Italianate government he now leads: now I have a majority, now I don’t; why won’t those pesky senators stay put and belt up?; what’s wrong with a federal ICAC that meets in secret and doesn’t cover pollies?; why can’t I have a Religious Discrimination Bill which discriminates against LGBTIQ people and free thinkers?; what’s in the air conditioning?; why can’t they keep it zipped?; will there be an outbreak of bunga bunga parties in 2022?; ten of my best people – which doesn’t include the dill who can’t spell Christian - won’t be around to contest the next election; where can I get candidates that aren’t knuckle-headed apparatchiks; why can’t I say anything intelligible and informative? Meanwhile, a Chinese spy ship has been spotted slinking down the coast of Queensland gathering intelligence. We wish them luck.
And back in God’s Own we’ve had the Council elections. Your correspondent, a noted champion of the civil authority—I salute the uniform, whoever’s wearing it—almost wore himself out on 4 December, visiting all polling stations in the region to vote for Group L who are deadly serious about shifting the putative site of the Bungendore High school to Woodlawn, an easy train ride from town. This should please everyone.
Winners & Grinners
After the captain silenced the unruly crowd with a few well-chosen epithets he introduced our guests Matilda Whitney and Clint Pickin, and told Ted’s joke involving a man calling himself James Bond and a dog who really was Jack Russell. The googly ball went to the person who drew attention to the presence of several barkers’ nests on the oval and suggested appropriate action. One competitor was lucky to avoid the dummy spit when told that the reason the nine holers weren’t getting to play the Eastern Nine was the roosting migratory birds on one green. He replied that he could fix that. During the resulting furore the dummy was awarded to Rob Gorham who complained of losing six balls. (It’s an expensive game. I lost a tee.)
LD and NTP ball winners were Colin Urquhart 2, Clint Pickin, David Bailey, Glen Crafter, Rob Gorham, Dave Hubbard and Keith France. There was a tie in the juniors comp between Madison Gordon and Robert Thompson, both returning with 35 after handicap. Winner of the nine hole comp was David Thompson 51/34 from Steve Lambert 48/36 ocb Alex Gordon 53/36 also ocb. Winner of the 18 hole comp was Keith France 80/63 from Colin Urquhart 95/69 and Vicki Still 97/71. Well done all!
Why not make a New Year’s resolution to throw off the enervation of the pandemic by joining us at the community hall at 12.15pm on Sunday, 2 January for the ever-dependable 12.30pm shot gun start. You’ve only got your dignity to lose. Meanwhile I want to have whatever they’re feeding political prisoners in Myanmar. It looks like a Yangon court could give the 76 year-old Aung San Suu Kyi 100 years for various “crimes”.
Larry King, golfer