Inconsiderate Bastard at RSGC

It was a scorching afternoon with a hungry toddler in the car. I followed at 5 kilometres per hour, a big guy (Jack Nicholson with an extra foot) pushing his golf cart to his car and parked mine twenty feet away from him with my indicator on. And waited……

He opened the boot of the black Mercedes. Then struggled to fit a 4 foot golf umbrella into his golf bag. Then struggled to dismantle the golf bag out of the cart. Then wiped his golf bag with a grey tattered rag. And after about twenty three ‘thens’ later, placed the bag finally into the boot.

As each ‘then’ step progressed, imagine my excitement that the end of this golf movie in slow mo was nearing. My eagerness to dive into that parking spot trebled.

But wait. He has to clean his golf cart too. And then fold it. There’s more? Yes, he takes out a few mega plastic bags (the type you get from Toys R Us when you buy their largest sized toys) and puts them all over his cart before lifting it and placing it into the boot.

Surely you know what happened next? No? Let me tell you. He walked to the driver’s seat door, opened it, sat inside and did something with his shoes. Then the fucker came out, slammed the door shut and started walking in the opposite direction!

I was fuming like a dragon on heat who’s mate had escaped just before orgasm, floored the accelerator, made a big round just in time to catch Mr Fuckwit on the other side just about to enter the club. I horned and summoned to him. Then I ripped down the window and shouted across. The moron fumbled with his speech claiming he didn’t see me. I gave him a piece of my mind and dared him not do it again to the next person.

His car number is WLK 5151, by the way.

Bastard.

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