THE HOLE CONCERN
Scene—Any golf-club where an alteration of the course is in prospect.
Time—Any time, from dawn to dusk.
Characters—Any number of Members, plus (on this occasion) an Inoffensive Stranger.
First Member (catching sight of Inoffensive Stranger). Look here, Nobbs, you're an impartial judge, we'll have your opinion. What I say is this. If you take the present 4th hole and make it the 13th, putting the tee back ten yards behind the 12th, and carry the lower green fifteen yards to the right, and play the 2nd, 5th and 16th holes in reverse order, keeping clear of the ditch outside the 4th green, you'll bring——
Second Member. Oh, that's rubbish. Anybody with a grain of sense would see that you'd utterly ruin the course that way. My plan is to take the first three, the 11th, and the 14th—you understand, Nobbs?—(slowly and emphatically) the first three, the 11th, and the 14th.
Inoffensive Stranger. Yes?
Second M. (quickly). And leave 'em as they are. Leave 'em just exactly as they are. Then you do away with the next, make the 3rd into the 7th, and——
I.S. (horribly confused). But——
Third M. Yes, I know—you're thinking of the crossing from the 14th. And you're perfectly right. Simply fatal, that would be; too dangerous altogether. What we really want is a 2nd hole, and my plan would make a splendid one—really sporting, and giving these gentlemen who fancy their play a bit to do.
Second M. Don't know about that. Tried that patent 2nd hole of yours this morning out of curiosity. Holed it with my third, and might have done it in two, with a bit of luck.
Third M. (whistles expressively). Oh, come! Splendid player you are, and all that—handicap's fifteen, isn't it?—but there aren't many of us who would stand here and say calmly that we'd done a hole of 420 yards in three! Really, you know——
Second M. 420 yards? 130, you mean.
Third M. (defiantly). 420, if an inch.
Second M. But look here, you told me yourself only yesterday——
Third M. (slightly taken aback). Oh, ah, yes. I understand now. I did think, at one time, of making the 2nd a short hole. But this is quite a different idea. Miles better, in fact. It flashed across me quite suddenly at dinner-time last night. Sort of inspiration—kind of thing you can't account for—but there it is, you see.
Fourth M. Well, what you fellows can argue about like this beats me altogether. There's only one possible way of improving the course, and I showed you the plan of it last week. It won't be adopted—not likely. So good, and simple, and inexpensive that the committee won't look at it. Couldn't expect anything else. Anyhow (with an air of unappreciated heroism)—I've done my best for the club!
(Sighs heavily, and picks up a newspaper.)
Fifth M. (brutally). Oh, we know all about that blessed plan of yours. Now, I'm open to conviction. Mind you, I don't condemn anybody else's scheme. All that I say is, that if a man doesn't see that my plan is the best, he's a dunder-headed jackass, and that's all about it. What do you think, Mr. Nobbs?
I.S. (rather nervously). Well, really—I hardly know—perhaps——
First M. (compassionately). Ah, it's those whins below the 17th that are bothering you. But if you exchange the 8th and the 10th——
Second M. (abruptly). Rot!
(The battle continues. The Inoffensive Stranger stealthily withdraws. (Curtain.))
A TOWN MOUSE
Jones. "Well, my little man, what are you thinking about?"
London Boy (who has never been out of Whitechapel before). "I'm thinkin' it's time yer mother put yer into trousers!"
A MARTYR TO APPEARANCES
Young Lady. "I say, caddie, what does Mr. McFadjock do with all these clubs?"
Caddie (wofully preparing to follow his tyrant). "He makes me carry them!"
LINK(S)ED SWEETNESS
The Real Caddie (audibly). "This club is going to ruin—allowing all these ladies to join!"
Miss Sharp. "They evidently can't get gentlemen!"
Sanguine Golfer. "Is that on the 'carpet,' caddie?"
Caddie (as the ball swerves into cottage window). "Yus, sir; front parlour, sir!"
THE OLD TYPE OF LINK MAN.
Supper time.
THE NEW TYPE OF LINK MAN.
Tee time.