Nonsense, the man's a genius. A modern day J. P Donleavy (who?). I have copied and pasted below the proof of his genius.
Skip Licker, A Brucy Bonus.
Despite the fact we were dirt poor and mostly ate soup, I wanted a Commodore 64 computer. So I had a chat with my Dad (he's pretty cool, although he is from the North and thus hard to understand) Our conversation went a bit like this...
Skip - Dad, can I have a really expensive computer I don't need.
Dad - Yes you can son, but you need to pay for half of it. Reet grand lad aye.
Skip - OK dad
So I became a caddy. Every Saturday and Sunday I would jump on a train and go to Wentworth. Then rich Golfers would point at my skinny body and say 'I wan't that one' I would then carry a bag that was bigger and heavier than I was for about 400 hundred miles. It was shit wrapped up in wank and sprinkled with a lot of bollocks and I hated it.
The loaded folk would give me five pounds at the end of the game and I would go and poke it into my piggy bank. Then I would peel the stickers off of my Rubiks Cube and rearrange them (I'm a bit rubbish at maths) then I'd look at pictures of the computer I wanted and I'd smile a bit.
One day I got picked by Gareth Hunt (He was an Avenger), Kenny Lynch (a funny black northerner) was also on the round and so was Bruce Forsyth (an entertainer) Bruce didn't like me very much and blamed his utterly shit golfing skills on me. I was young and far from star struck so we all had a chat.
Bruce - CADDY Skip! Stop putting me off my swing
Skip - Fuck off you old cunt, the Generation Game is shite.
Kenny Lynch - Snork!
Gareth Hunt - Bwa ha ha
At the end of the round Gareth gave me fifty pounds, and I got to buy a computer and could play 'Raid Over Moscow' (we didn't like Russia much in the olden days) Dad said I had learnt a lesson, I agreed, Bruce Forsyth is a twat poncing about beneath an ill fitting Syrup.