Here’s an excerpt:
I use my mother as my sole focus group. She’s nearly target audience, and she’s a shrewd old bird, so she lets me know whether the agency boys have landed a hole-in-one or shanked the ball into the face of the club chairman’s wife, then attempted to play the next shot off her blood-spattered chin where the ball had come to rest, misjudged the grip on the driver, smashed the club right into the old dear’s windpipe, broken the club and called her a cunt for getting in the way in the first place. (This didn’t happen to me, by the way. It didn’t.)
PS: for reasons I don’t fully understand this has been far and away the most viewed week on my blog. Thanks for dropping by. More dismal cackbabble next week.