There’s one in every foursome – that golfer who will wait 275 yards out for the group ahead to putt-out and clear the green. Why? Because one time in 1996, all the f’ing planets aligned and he caught his 3-wood just right to roll one up on the green from (what he claims was) 275 yards out.

In our foursome, it’s Stinky Golfer Tom. I don’t know how many times I’ve bit my tongue when Tom is waiting from some ungodly distance for the group ahead to finish putting. “I’m gonna wait – there’s a chance I can reach them.” I want to scream: “IF YOU HAD A CANNON WITH A SNIPER SCOPE ON IT YOU STILL COULDN’T HIT THEM!” But I don’t. I just wait patiently while Tom eventually hits a worm-burner 50 yards down the fairway (much to the chagrin of the foursome on the tee behind us).

Of course I know – the one time I do tell him to not worry about the group on the green and just hit, he’ll launch a missile right at them.