What is it?
Pubgolf is an excelent reason for a piss-up. It is a pubcrawl combined with a drinking game. Tha game is based (very) loosely around the game of golf. In that there is a predetermined course comprising between 9 & 18 holes. There is a yardage and a par for each hole. The player with the lowest score wins. There are several variations on the rules that can be played. These depend on what course is being played, number of players and how pissed everyone wants to get!
The game of pubgolf is a very social activity. It is amazing what can happen and the state some of the players can get into! I enjoy the game because it brings back memories of student days in dinburgh… Martin C throwing up his stomach lining… Alan H tring to liberate a 6 foot strip light from “the last drop”… and several vague memories…strange memories…Bloody Students… The first game I ever participated in was with the heriot-watt curling club. I can’t remember any of it but that was back in late 1992 (f^<k..Eight years have gone by so quickly). Unfortunatly I don’t live in Edinburgh any more - I work in West Byfleet, and eat, sleep and drink in a scarey place called Weybridge. Weybridge : (Jeremy Clarkson opened his first ever episode of his talk show by anouncing to the world - Weybridge is the asshole of the world!) For My 24th birthday I orginised a wee game of Pubgolf around Weybridge
- we managed 9 pubs in 3 1/2 hours. It was cool. but no one down here had ever heard of the game before!
The Five Stages of Drinking:
It’s 11:00pm on a weeknight, and you’ve had a few beers. You get up to leave because you have to work the next morning and one of your friends buys another round. One of your UNEMPLOYED friends. Here at Level 1 you think to yourself, “Oh come on, this is silly, why as long as I get seven hours of sleep (snap fingers), I’m cool.”
It’s midnight. You’ve had a few more beers. You’ve just spent 20 minutes arguing AGAINST artificial turf. You get up to leave again, but at Level 2, a little devil appears on your shoulder. And now you’re thinking, “Hey! I’m out with my friends! What am I working for anyway? These are the good times! Besides, as long as I get five hours sleep (snaps fingers) I’m cool.”
1:00am: You’ve abandoned beer for tequila. You’ve just spent 20 minutes arguing FOR artificial turf. And now you’re thinking, “Our waitress is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” At Level 3, you love the world. On the way to the bathroom you buy a drink for the stranger at the end of the bar just because you like his/her face. You get drinking fantasies. (Like, “Hey fellas, if we bought our own bar, we could live together forever. We could do it. Tommy, you could cook.”) But at Level 3, that devil is a little bit bigger….and he’s buying. And you’re thinking, “Oh, come on, come on now. As long as I get three hours sleep … and a complete change of blood (snaps fingers), I’m cool.”
2:00am:. Your little devil is bartending. For last call, you ordered a bottle of rum and a Coke. You ARE artificial turf. This time on your way to the bathroom, you punch the stranger at the end of the bar – just because you don’t like his face. And now you’re thinking, “Our busboy is the best-looking man I’ve ever seen.” You and your friends decide to leave, right after you get thrown out, and one of you knows an … after-hours bar. And here, at Level 4, you actually think to yourself, “Well … as long as I’m only going to get a few hours sleep anyway, I may as well … STAY UP ALL NIGHT!!!! Yeah! That’d be good for me. I don’t mind going to that board meeting looking like Keith Richards. Yeah, I’ll turn that around, make it work for me. And besides, as long as I get 31 hours sleep tomorrow…cool.
5:00am. After unsuccessfully trying to get your money back at the tattoo parlor (“But I don’t even know anybody named Ruby!!!”), you and your friends wind up across the state line in a bar with guys who have been in prison as recently as … that morning. It’s the kind of place where even the devil is going, “Uh, I gotta turn in. I gotta be in Hell at nine. I’ve got that brunch with Hitler, I can’t miss that.” At this point, you’re all drinking some kind of thick blue liquor, like something from a Klingon wedding. A waitress with fresh stitches comes over, and you think to yourself, “Someday I’m gonna marry that girl!!” One of your friends stands up and screams, “WE’RE DRIVIN’ TO FLORIDA!!!!!” and passes out. You crawl outside for air, and then you hit the worst part of Level 5 – the sun. You weren’t expecting that were you? You never actually do. You walk out of a bar in daylight, and you see people on their way to work, or jogging. And they look at you, and they know. And they say…
Sorry - I know it’s a wee bit to american to have on a UK site but I heard the late great Bill Hicks do it on a tape sometime - it wouldn’t really work if it was We’re drivin to GRETNA or CHERTSEY or Winchester" now would it!