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Alfie Noakes embarked on an exciting new adventure to Brookdale Golf Club, a course that was a fresh addition to our roster. Nestled in the heart of Manchester, this gem proved to be both quirky and challenging, offering a delightful mix of undulating fairways, strategic bunkers, and unexpected twists that kept us on our toes throughout the round. The newness of the course added an extra layer of intrigue, as we navigated its unique layout for the first time.

Col won with 47 points because he’s a massive bandit.

The end.

The weekend kicked off with a dawn patrol vibe for yours truly—up at the ungodly hour of 6am for a two-and-a-half-hour trek, complete with a pit stop to scoop up Steve. Now, did he have all the right trophies packed? Let’s just say, if forgetting hardware was a golf stroke, Steve would’ve been disqualified before we hit the M1. But we weren’t the only eager beavers; Alan and Ron showed up a full day early. Were they scouting the course like secret agents, or just ensuring they were as fresh as a daisy (or perhaps nursing a pre-game pint)? Either way, kudos to them for turning a weekend into a mini-vacation—talk about commitment!

Tragedy struck early when Len had to bow out, leaving his room up for grabs. We turned it into a charity auction, because nothing says “golf society” like turning misfortune into fundraising. After some cheeky shill bidding from Col and Dave (you know, inflating the price like a bad slice), Alex V emerged victorious at £50. Clearly, he was desperate to avoid sharing digs with “No Doh”—whoever that mysterious roommate is, they must snore like a chainsaw in a bunker.

Enter Bert, the man, the myth, the legend. Like Gandalf in golf spikes, he’s never late nor early; he arrives precisely when he means to. Half-walking, half-running with his bag slung over his shoulder, he made it just in time for the starter’s intro.

The action teed off under blazing sunshine on the Lakes course, which, let’s be honest, should be renamed the “Puddles” course. Those “lakes” were more like oversized divots—forgivable if you’re a frog, less so if you’re expecting Augusta-level drama. Mr. Captain set the tone right away by rugby-tackling me on the practice green, leaving me sprawling with legs akimbo. Thanks, Cap—nothing says “welcome” like a WWE move on the dance floor of the gods.

As members clustered on the first tee, our Ryder Cup captains—Alex for Team Europe and Steve for Team USA—rallied their troops for group photos. USA was their usual bolshy selves, chanting “USA! USA!” like they were auditioning for a patriotic pep rally. Team Europe? We kept our decorum, sipping tea and plotting quietly—because subtlety is our superpower.

Photos snapped, chants of “USA! USA!” echoing around the course like a bad earworm, and we were off. The day wrapped with beers and banter in the glorious sunshine as groups trickled in, scores tallied like confessions at a mulligan confessional.

In the Ryder Cup stakes, USA stormed to an impressive Day 1 lead: 211 points to Europe’s 175. USA! USA! You could hear the chants from the clubhouse bar.

Evening brought the meal in a room packed with other golf societies—think giant wedding dinner minus the top table and awkward speeches. The grub was spot-on, though as a growing lad, I could’ve demolished two portions without breaking a sweat. Joe, ever the DJ in disguise, hijacked the PA system right next to him and swapped the dreary tunes for Oasis. “Wonderwall” on the fairway? Maybe, but it beat elevator music.

Football cards circulated for charity—members snapping up teams like hot tee times—and then Steve donned his Quizmaster hat for a pub quiz showdown between USA and Europe. It was chaotic in that uniquely Steve way (think herding cats with a 9-iron), but USA clinched it again. USA! USA! Day 1: America the beautiful, Europe plotting revenge.

Day 2: Rain, Razzle-Dazzle Outfits, and a Plot Twist Putt

Saturday dawned wet and wild—we thought we’d dodge the deluge, but nope, it poured as we gathered in our traditional Day 2 colorful outfits. Think rainbows on steroids, or a bad acid trip at the pro shop.

Yours truly had a mishap in the car park: tripped, sprawled, attempted a commando roll (failed spectacularly), then popped up like a meerkat scanning for witnesses. Bloody knees wiped, blushing through my beard—and did I mention I was rocking Old Tom Morris with the whiskers? What a sight: Victorian golf icon meets slapstick comedy.

As we prepped for the putting comp, Steve realized he’d forgotten his brolly, so he “borrowed” Alan and Ben’s buggy—zooming off with all their gear, leaving them putterless and probably plotting revenge. The comp itself was bonkers: everyone putting at once, like a mosh pit on the green. Ian, who couldn’t play that day due to injury, won by holing a 25-yarder. Bravo, sir—proof that sometimes the best shots come from the sidelines.

Alex V, nursing a hangover that could’ve felled a lesser man, creamed his drive down the first to the sound of cheers or jeers? With that bandit, it’s hard to tell—was this a harbinger of glory or just the hair of the dog? 

Bert let rip on the 10th (and I don’t mean his drive)—so worried, he dashed off with wet wipes in hand. Classic golf: when nature calls mid-swing. Colin achieved the impossible on one hole: losing two balls without advancing 10 yards. That’s not golf; that’s a magic trick gone wrong.

On the nearest-the-pin, Phil shanked so badly he yelled, “Fuck me up the arse!”—prompting his Apple Watch Siri to chirp, “I don’t know how to respond to that.” Hilarious—technology’s way of saying, “Keep it PG, mate.” Stu’s practice swing on the 18th approach? Shanked his actual ball. And Mr. Captain? Drove his into a tree… where it stayed. Tree-mendous effort, Cap.

As groups finished, we clapped Mr. Captain in on the 18th—a fine conclusion to two days of golfing glory. Scores gathered amid beer priorities, but the real fun was evening-bound. If you ask Mr. Captain his arch-nemesis, it’s Naga Munchetty. His mates know this, so they surprised him with a life-sized cutout date for the night. He was thrilled (not), while we howled with laughter—barely standing straight.

In our private room, with Naga “accompanying” Cap, an excellent meal fueled the festivities. Joe, fines master extraordinaire, dished out penalties like candy: even the wives got fined for attending without swinging a club. Ouch!

Par 3 comp went to Bert Blower with 12 points—though Col’s Barnes Wallis impersonation was impressive. What a shot skimming that ball across the pond in that way. No one else would have dared attempt that. Bert also nabbed the twos pot.

Ian Morris snagged the Alf Crapper trophy—a prestigious honor for, er, not playing Day 2 and like a bad smell his hated recyled booby prize trophy found its way back to him. Day 1 winner was Joe Wilcox with 39 points and Dave Mac snapping at his heals with 37. Day 2: Stuart Shand’s 39, Kevin Murray’s 36… or so we thought. Two-day Master champ was Joe Wilcox with 71 with Dave Mac still in Joes wake with 68. 

Ryder Cup? USA triumphed 406-387, despite Europe’s valiant 212 on Day 2. Shoutout to Steve’s squad: Joe, Phil, Alex V, Colin, Ben, and Kevin.

Alex’s charity, Dementia UK (close to his heart after family impacts), raised a record-smashing £824.

Raffle madness ensued—Joe stacking prizes like a trophy hoarder. But plot twist! There was a scorecard mix-up discovered post event.  Actual Day 2 winner was Kevin Murray (36) and runner-up Ron Marshall (35). Whoops—golf’s version of a recount.

In a moment that’ll go down in our golf society’s lore, Mr. Captain was left gobsmacked at the evening ceremony when Col presented him with a memento as unique as his infamous swing. Col crafted it with devilish ingenuity, the trophy was a masterpiece of mischief: a sculpture of pipes twisted into a quirky frame, topped with four golf balls perched proudly to the right—a cheeky nod to Alex’s nickname, “Four Right,” earned from his legendary, wicked slice that sends Pro V1s veering starboard like they’re fleeing the fairway. The room erupted in laughter as Col handed over the bespoke creation, with Alex’s face torn between mock outrage and genuine amusement. It was the perfect tribute to a captain whose leadership (and errant shots) will be remembered long after the beers ran dry. Hats off, Col, for a gift that’s as much a jab as it is a jewel!

Day 3: The Die Hard Cup – For the Truly Indestructible

Four hardy souls—Alex Baker, Alex Vietor, Joe Wilcox, and Colin Butler—braved a third day at Brierley Forest for the Die Hard Cup. Colin emerged victorious with a 92 gross, netting 41 points on his “bandit” handicap. Well played, Col—stamina like that deserves a medal (or at least a stiff drink).

What a cracking weekend—my second, and I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Can’t wait for Steve’s captaincy next year. 

Finally, no wonder Alex hates Naga Munchetty; Joe’s a fan even if she is just cardboard, but what a tart! 

Next up: Brookdale up yon, near Oldham—a quirky new challenge for the society.

Welcome back, golfing faithful, to another rollicking tale from the fairways! This time, our merry band of swingers descended on Chorlton-cum-Hardy Golf Club, the urban oasis where GolfMates YouTube stars strut their stuff and dodge errant shots. Nestled in the heart of Greater Manchester, this parkland gem is a proper test—tight fairways, cheeky bunkers, and greens that smirk at your putting woes. With 14 players ready to battle, one man—yep, you guessed it, Mike Oakes—decided to make the day his personal victory lap. Here’s how it all went down in the scorching sun.

A Day to Remember

The Summer Shield brought out a cracking turnout of 14 players, all eager to tackle Chorlton’s challenging layout. Adding to the fun, we welcomed two guest players, Robert and Jason Kane, who jumped into the fray with gusto. Nothing says “welcome” like new blood taking on the regulars, and these lads held their own with style.

The weather? Blimey, it was a scorcher—hot enough to “crack the flags” and have players guzzling water like they were auditioning for a camel convention. The sun blazed down, turning the course into a furnace, but it only fired up the competition. Chorlton’s members added to the vibe, turning the greens into a warzone with their eager pitching, much to the chagrin of one particular player, our Stuey. 

Shenanigans on the Green

No society day is complete without a bit of mischief, and our very own Mr. Captain provided the highlight. Caught red-handed receiving some dodgy coaching on the practice green to fix his woeful putting, he thought he could sneak it past the eagle-eyed Fines Master. No chance! The Fines Master, sharper than a freshly cut wedge, slapped him with an instant fine, and I reckon Mr. Captain’s wallet is now lighter than his short game. 

Mike Oakes: The One-Man Wrecking Crew

Now, let’s talk about the man of the hour: Mike Oakes. This bloke turned up with a bag full of magic and a scorecard that read like a fairy tale. He fired a jaw-dropping gross 68—2 under par—to bag the top spot with 37 points. Mike played like he’d made a pact with the golfing gods, leaving the rest of the field scrambling to keep up. But wait, there’s more! Not content with just winning, typically Mike swooped in to claim the nearest-the-pin prize and—brace yourselves—the juicy twos pot, which had swollen to epic proportions after rolling over. The man’s got a nose for prizes like a bloodhound, and the lads are already plotting to lock the pot in a safe before he gets near it again.

Hot on Mike’s heels was Stuart Shand, who matched his 37 points but got pipped on countback. Stuart’s so close to stealing Mike’s crown he can probably smell his aftershave, and he’s chomping at the bit for revenge. Meanwhile, poor Ron “The Tree” Marshal lumbered to last place, earning the infamous visor of shame. Ever the good sport, Ron took it like a champ, vowing to return with a game plan—or at least a bigger axe to hack through the rough.

Chorlton’s Warm Welcome

The day wasn’t just about the golf—Chorlton-cum-Hardy rolled out the red carpet. The Club Captain, an absolute legend, gifted the society two free single rounds of golf, which were promptly chucked into the raffle for the upcoming Captain’s Weekend. That prize pot’s now tastier than a clubhouse pie, and the anticipation’s building faster than a downhill putt.

Eyes on Belton Woods

Speaking of what was next, the society’s already buzzing for the Captain’s Weekend at Belton Woods. Two days of golf, rip-roaring banter, and enough laughs to fill a bunker—it’s shaping up to be the Ryder Cup of good times. Expect the usual chaos, a few dodgy swings, and maybe even Mr. Captain sneaking off for another “coaching session” (we’ve got our eyes on you!).

A massive cheers to Chorlton-cum-Hardy for hosting a belter of a day, to Mike Oakes for treating the course like his personal playground, and to Stuart for pushing him to the wire. Here’s to more golf, more laughs, and maybe someone finally wrestling that twos pot from Mike’s iron grip. Belton Woods was next — LFG!!!

The Autumn Handicap at Disley Golf Club took an unexpected turn this year, with the pairs competition swapped out for something more appropriate. The change came about as several club members were notably absent, off enjoying the scenic NC500 Birdies and Bogies Tour of Scotland. Their absence didn’t dampen the spirits at Disley, though, as those who turned up brought their A-game to make the day a memorable one.

• Winner: Len Potts stole the show with a stellar performance, racking up an impressive 38 points to claim the top spot. His steady play and sharp focus left the field trailing in his wake.
• Runner-Up: Pete Evens, ever the consistent contender, secured the runner-up position once again with a commendable 31 points. Pete’s knack for landing in the top spots is becoming the stuff of club legend, and whispers around the clubhouse suggest he’s got his sights set on snatching first place next time.
• Twos: The twos pot remained tantalizingly untouched, with no players managing to sink a two on the day. This means the pot rolls over to the next event, and word has it that Mike Oakes is already salivating ‘again’ at the prospect of the growing prize fund.

Congratulations to Len for his commanding victory and to Pete for yet another strong showing. The Disley faithful are already looking forward to the next event, where the twos pot promises to add even more excitement to the competition!

Nestled in the rolling hills of an imagined countryside, Style Golf Club is a par-72, 6,800-yard gem that blends charm with challenge. Designed with a nod to traditional links-style play, its fairways weave through ancient oaks and strategic bunkers, demanding precision over power. The course features plenty of water that swallows more balls than a retriever at a dog park. With slick greens and unpredictable winds, Style Golf Club tests every club in the bag while rewarding those who can keep their cool—and their ball out of the rough. It’s also, apparently, the perfect stage for Steve to pull off a 100-yard chip-in that he won’t stop talking about.

The Memorial Cup at Style Golf Club, generously sponsored by Alan Corbishley, was a day of heartfelt moments, classic mishaps, and one unforgettable shot that Steve insists we all hear about—his 100-yard chip-in. The event kicked off with a minute’s silence to honor the occasion, and, true to form, Bert rolled in just as the quiet began, tires screeching like he was auditioning for a getaway driver. He stood respectfully, if slightly out of breath, proving punctuality is not his strong suit. Meanwhile, Steve was nowhere to be seen, missing the silence entirely because he was, ahem, observing his own personal moment in the clubhouse loo, battling his ever-predictable IBS. But don’t worry, he made up for it later with—you guessed it—a 100-yard chip-in that’s now the stuff of legend.

The fairways saw their share of heroics, none more peculiar than guest Jonathan Lees’ attempt at the longest drive. His towering shot went so high it nearly needed air traffic control clearance. When it landed, slightly up the fairway, it came down with what looked like a dusting of snow—an optical illusion or Style’s quirky microclimate? Either way, Jonathan’s skyward blast would have earned him the longest drive prize if we had one, though Steve would argue his 100-yard chip-in was the real shot of the day. And he’s not wrong—did we mention Steve chipped in from 100 yards? Because he certainly has.

The leaderboard battle was fierce, but Ron “The Tree” Marshall stood tall, claiming the Memorial Cup with a stellar 40 points. His steady play navigated Style’s traps with ease, though even he had to nod in respect when Steve brought up his 100-yard chip-in for the third time at the turn.

Hot on Ron’s heels was Pete Evens, who posted a cracking 38 points for runner-up honors. Just two points shy of victory, Pete’s consistency was admirable, but he couldn’t steal the spotlight from Steve, who was still beaming about—you know it—that 100-yard chip-in.

The Visor, that coveted badge of “unique achievement,” went to our illustrious and ever glorious Mr Captain. He did not, he did not! …look happy. While the details of his visor-worthy antics are debated at the 19th hole, they were overshadowed by Steve recounting, yet again, how he chipped in from 100 yards. Honestly, Mr Captain, you might need to pull off something bigger next time to compete with Steve’s story.

Sadly, the twos pot went untouched, with no one sinking a hole in two strokes. The prize money rolls over to the next event at Disley, where players will dream of birdies, bragging rights, and maybe a shot half as good as Steve’s 100-yard chip-in. 

A huge thank you to Alan Corbishley for sponsoring the Memorial Cup, ensuring a day of camaraderie, competition, and Steve reminding everyone about his 100-yard chip-in. Style Golf Club provided a fitting stage, and the players—especially Steve—delivered the script. Until next time, keep your swings smooth, your IBS in check, and your chip-ins, well, at least 100 yards.

All in all, it was another cracking day out with the Alfie Noakes crew – superb company, a top-notch course, and enough laughs to keep us going through the long break until our next gathering at Style, where it’s golf only this time.  Here’s hoping Alan doesn’t dominate there too, or we’ll have to start checking his clubs for performance-enhancing magic. Fingers crossed the weather gods stay kind, and the trollies stay loyal!