The Shark v The Wobbegong.
Greg Norman won two of golf’s grand slam events. To put the difficulty of those victories into perspective, John Daly also won two majors, but was completely pissed on both occasions. Sean Woodland won the most improved player in Under 12s playing Australian Rules.
SW: I truly believe it was golf that enabled my fast adjustment to comedy and emotionally evolving.
Around the age of 14 I first played golf. Immediately, I realised that it was a great substitute for personal growth, indulged in by the type of men who refuse to explore the underlying purpose of their existence. I met many one-dimensional, excruciatingly boring men on the golf course. My inner core muscles have enabled me to stand on a stage holding a microphone while deconstructing the emotional immaturity and shallowness of such dullards.
SW: You’ve got to learn to swing from the ground up.
I don’t always live by this rule as it depends on the location of the mosquito, but what is not in dispute is that I’ll swing much faster than 128 miles per hour when I spot one of the bastards in my house.
I also spend a lot of time bonding with my children. I do this to ensure they don’t become unbearable, narcissistic wankers who lack humility and constantly self-praise later in life. I can confirm that at the playground you do have to learn to swing from the ground up. That’s how swings work.
SW: It always bothers me if I had to play more than 9 holes.
Nine holes of golf is plenty. Even with a couple of spliffs and a few beers in your bag, the game gets tedious after four or five holes. Even though I’m fit (in the sense that I’m not dead yet) I always use a golf cart at the public courses I play on. There’s not much funnier than watching your mate fall out the side of a cart as he takes a sip from his can of VB because you’ve taken off too quickly. If anyone ever suggests we continue playing beyond nine holes I suggest they see a marriage counsellor. If the weather is bad I hang a burnout in the buggy and head straight back to the clubhouse leaving my mate standing in the rain like a loser.
SW: I can do a whole spew against a wall.
On the odd occasion when I can afford the time and money to take a break from being a husband and fatherI will have beers with my mates until I end up as full as a caterpillar’s sock drawer.
Upon arriving home, I will usually have a chunder up against the neighbour’s brick wall and astound myself at being able to projectile vomit in a 360 degree circle. I’m yet to be blamed for the resultant pavement pizza as we live in an area heavily populated by Irish people.
SW: I’ve had 0 surgeries because of my extreme laziness.
I often wonder how soft you’d have to be to suffer an injury playing golf. Needless to say, if hitting little balls with a stick renders you physically incompetent, orienteering is probably more your go. It’s essentially golf without the ball or stick anyway.
SW: Back in my day, water was everywhere, in taps for one.
I love water and all that lives in it. In comedy circles I’m known as Woody the Wobbegong, because I’m harmless. I initially wanted to be called ‘The Great White Woody’ but as I’m not a psychopath who needs the image of a predatory animal to demonstrate my perceived superiority, I ultimately chose the nicest shark I could think of. I love drinking Coke too, even though it disagrees with me by making me fat. But, being fat is way better than being a pious twat.
SW: Oh sure, I binge every now and then.
Do I fuck? Some softcocks would classify bingeing as eating a handful of Cheetos. Me, I reckon, that’s like feeding a bear half a fish. Often after a gig I’ll get stuck at the bar with a fella, who because his dad wasn’t nice enough to him when he was young will feel the need to prove himself to a stranger who couldn’t give a fuck by relentlessly bignoting. In response, I’ll drink ten beers in even time so I can cope with his drivel. This also helps with my outflows, as I can excuse myself for the bathroom. My mental health thanks me every day.
SW: My fatness now is just a continuation of my discipline.
I don’t mind being overweight. It’s better than sharing numerous character traits with Pete Evans and Ted Bundy. I’ve always hoped that my deep-seated insecurities aren’t so profound that when I’m an old man I’ll obsess about something as insignificant as body image and consider posing nude for a vacuous magazine even if I look like Freddy Krueger. But, that doesn’t mean I don’t discipline myself. No matter how much I want to cheat on my wife and fracture the relationship with my children, namedrop US Presidents, talk about myself in the third person or keep a sculpture of myself in my backyard, I exercise discipline to stop myself from doing so. I also have people in my life who tell me when I’m being a dickhead.
SW: I’m a big proponent of trying to get my heart rate deep.
If I have to run for a bus to meet a mate for a beer I’ll do it, every single time. I have a guy (my 6-year-old son) who runs me ragged and keeps my cardiovascular activity relentlessly spiking towards heart failure. I love it because I know my son’s name – it’s Sam – and he’s not just someone I use to propagate my insatiable craving for the constant approval of sycophantic cretins.
SW: If someone asked me to go climb Mount Everest tomorrow, I’d ask, ‘Why, you idiot?’
Look, the idea of employing poverty-stricken Sherpas to risk their lives so I can further stroke my ego by climbing a big hill is appealing, but I like my wife, kids, warm weather and being alive even more.
SW: I do shortcuts.
Wherever possible I do them. Smart people find faster ways to do things. Even people who do ‘reps’ at gyms are taking shortcuts. They could be taking on the more difficult task of establishing the cause of what’s made them the vapid, empty vessels of humans that they are.
SW: I walk around nude at home.
It’s not a big deal to me, right? My mother-in-law on the other hand hates it. I don’t have any ego about me, which is why I use ‘I’ as often as possible and have forgotten the old adage, ‘Self-praise is no praise.’