Old Tom Watson
It’s somehow more difficult to write a post when England cricketers are actually doing well. There just isn’t much to be said. And being sour is way more funny. I could relate how I was disgusted by the Australian performance. But I would be lying. I was elated. And besides, potty-mouthed apoplexy is realised so much more succinctly here.
So let me dwell upon another “do a double take at Ceefax” sporting occurrence yesterday. Tom Watson leads the Open going into the weekend. Let me put that into context for you: Watson is nearly 60. He’s older than my dad. You don’t my know dad (except you Mum if you’re reading this), but he’s pretty old. I think we may need some other sense of geriatric scale here. Tom Watson was born in the same year as all these people:
- Floella Benjamin, children’s television auteur of the 80s.
- Alan fucking Titchmarsh, old gardening bastard.
- Simon Callow, who is still alive apparently although I’m sure he died a few years back. Oh no, that was Four Weddings and A Funeral.
- Alex Higgins, who I’m guessing isn’t as good as snooker now as Tom Watson is at golf. Although having said that I did reach my highest ever break when I was a bit drunk. It was 9.
- Mike Batt, composer of one of the most famous songs about rabbits, Bright Eyes. And Remember You’re A Womble, which is the most famous song about Wombles. Apart from the theme tune to The Wombles.
- Bill Nighy and he’s ancient.
- John Belushi, who is so old he’s dead, although to be fair he definitely didn’t die of old age unless that means lashings upon lashings of Class A narcotics. Might check with my grandma just to make sure.
The list goes on. Essentially Tom Watson is as old as a lot of quite old people, none of whom are as good at golf than him. In fact, over the last two days there is noone in the world who is as good at golf than him. Nice work, Tom. And he’s had a hip replacement. I want one of those hips please.
I hope he wins tomorrow. But he won’t. He’s too old.