2003 - Edinburgh

It was the day of the 2003 Rugby World Cup Final when the inaugral FishBowl took place in Carrick Knowe.

This was golf from a different era - wooden clubs, full heads of hair and poor etiquette was the order of the day.

Rising above the dross was TWG Peterkin who claimed the victory, disgracing himself (amongst others) later on in the evening as the excitement and the Mcewans got the better of him.

2004 - ALICANTE

"The worse weekend of my life" J. Kinghorn

"Halder, stay here, I'll go in and get watson out of the hot tub" A. Richmond

"F off, Gil, you're not coming in" Spike

"Well it was all that I could do to keep from crying

Sometimes it seems so useless to remain

But you don't have to call me darlin', darlin'

You never even called me by my name

You don't have to call me Waylon Jennings

And you don't have to call me Charlie Pride

And you don't have to call me Merle Haggard anymore

Or even though you're on my fightin' side

And I'll hang around as long as you will let me

And I never minded standin' in the rain

But you don't have to call me darlin', darlin'

You never even called me by my name

Well I've heard my name a few times in your phone book

(Hello, hello)

And I've seen it on signs where I've played

But the only time I know I'll hear David Allan Coe

Is when Jesus has his final Judgment Day

So, I'll hang around as long as you will let me

And I never minded standin' in the rain

But you don't have to call me darlin', darlin'

You never even called me by my name

.........................................................." G.Scott and J.Kinghorn

"This is shit, there's more to life than getting arsehold and then playing golf" Miserable Murray

2005 - DUBLIN

Superbly organised weekend to the outskirts of Dublin.

Hotel had even laid on a wedding for joey to crash.

Special mention to Gil for first using has anti-snoring device. Sharply prodding Joey's head with his sheathed Driver just when he was starting up. V effective.

However, Joey was able to maintain his focus and claim the Claret Jug prize.

2006 - KINGUSSIE

Spike kindly sorted out a trip to Kingussie, where we ripped up the course, literally.

James Benbow showing particular skill in carding a 23 on the first hole. It was to be a long day.

Halder nearly got his caved in a local bar, by exhibiting an english accent, Joey gallantly stepped in to snuffle out any issues.

Unperturbed Halder partnered with his illegal driver purchased from a man in China (the Chinaman) triumphed much to the amazement to everyone.

2007 - PORTUGAL

Strict qualifying conditions were set this year and only three pioneering fishbowlers made it to the far flung location of Portugal. Fears of an Alicante part 2 kept a few safely at home in the comfort of their wives and children.

Gill , S Wanner-Halder and P Wanner-Halder (guest) made it, and played some sublime undocumented golf.

Spirits were high on the last night and the trio embarked on whisky fuelled bender...After a Hangover type night out the three amigos woke fully clothed realising their flight was taking off in 5 minutes....

2008 - PORT RUSH

Gents,

thank you for attending the Fishbowl Open Challenge held on the Valley Links Portrush. In the fine traditions of open golf, amateurs can also win and our congratulations go to a home winner, A B McGuigan the 2008 Champion! The Loser, of course, will be revealed in a year's time.

The links proved to be a challenging one and both teams showed resilience and tenacity, if not etiquette, fighting for glory to the last. The results were:

Individual stableford:

1st : AB McGuigan (34 handicap) 34 pts

2nd : CG Scott (18) 33 pts

Joint 3rd : W-Halder P & Joe (20 & 14) 30 pts

Joint 5th : Spike Slice & W-Halder S (20 & 20) 29 pts

7th : Wineputt (24) 26 pts

8th : Specky Ledge (14) 24 pts

9th : Lorne Rough (22) 16 pts

10th : Shug Shank (28) 15 pts

K Chada : no return.

JE Kinghorn : no return.

S Murray : DNQ (did not qualify).

Team stableford :

18 East Preston Street : 142 pts

Rest of the World : 124

Nearest the Pin: Wedgie Watson (on the green).

Longest Drive: Slugger Scott (est.300 yds).

19th Hole: TWG Peterkin*

*Tom regained his legendary status, shrugging off the Specky moniker with his memorable pint-downing performance at the 19th hole (sponsored by the Scottish Golf Ball Society). Well done Ledge.

Gil

Ps Basil has been black-balled from the Handicap Committee.

2009 - EDINBURGH Prestonfield

no match report

2010 - EDINBURGH Kings Acre

Remembered only by Joey missing a wedding couple wth his drive on the 18th by a gnat's hair.

Shame on you.

2011 - EDINBURGH Prestonfield

no match report

2012 - EDINBURGH

My Dear Friends,

It is with a quivering hand and a tremor in my voice that I address you - a humble farmer’s boy more used to hefting a pitch fork or milking maid than a niblick or spraffing iron - as the undisputed Fishbowl champion 2012. The responsibility and honour that comes with this coveted title has not been lost on one from such humble beginnings.

Andy Richmond (FB Champ 2011) set a tough challenge on the opening day – he had selected the renowned inner city course of Preston Pans, sitting below Arthurs Crag – and 6 inches of water. Webbed feet were a definite advantage. The first group out with yours truly)were accompanied by course pro, Happy Gilmours cousin, Miserable McGuigan. His local knowledge (there are Christmas trees at the 150 marker) made no difference as the course resembled a Nordic forest. One wag was heard to utter “some f***ing Christmas he must have had as a kid”.

The course took its toll on many of the field. W Watson and B Richmond failed to post scores – a real disappointment considering form in previous years. The committee has yet to judge on the unfortunate 2012 loser. Other notable scores were posted by the Rt Hon S Milligan who was at the centre of an Olympic badminton-esq controversy over effort (no win, no fee), and S Murray. James “iron man” Kinghorn dindt do too badly either. Alas, a week of looking after 3 young Scotts had ruined Gill’s swing...possibly beyond repair? And Halder? Well not even the chinaman could help the fellow. His pride and joy will be relegated to pig culling in the near future.

And so to Saturday....

The Friday Stalwarts were joined by a handful of Johnny Come Latelies and ne’er do wells from the surrounding countryside. Shot making was difficult...Jade Goodies and IRA’s were order of the day. Some fortunate nipple lickers kept the scores on the respectable side of disastrous. Straightest drive was won by Milligan with a peach of a drive a good 49 yards down the middle. This was also closest to the pin. And the only drive to hit the correct fairway. Closest to the dog was won by Andrew Richmond. This shot was also the closest to a hole in 1 over the weekend, and nearly the end of a long affinity with the Watson Clan.

Day two was won by whiplash specialist Milligan, surprisingly just 1 shot behind Huge Blackman’s score of 35 from Friday. Alas W Watson and B Richmond succumbed to the local conditions, and lost their cards in the breeze.

In all, the standard of Golf was as expected...special mention to “Slots” McGuigan who was at the driving range till 6.30 am...his efforts were thwarted from the third tee where he sharted, and survived the last 15 holes turtling, without soiling his beige strides.

2013 Look Ahead...

There will be a number of venues offered to the Edinburgh mafia, I mean committee, for next year. Perhaps as it is the 10 year anniversary, it is only right the tournament returns to its Ancestral Home of Edinburgh? Alternatives:

2013 - PORTUGAL

Expertly organised by Huge Blackburn, but overlooked his own travel arrangements so failed to arrive or turn up.

Spirits undampened Al-boy, Spike, Winebar, Joey and Halder qualified and duly attended this intrepid oversees event.

2014 - EDINBURGH - Duddingston

Much excitement for this year's Fishbowl masterminded by Joey "missing beer towel" Richmond. We were back in Edinburgh at Duddingston Golf Club, a picturesque course tucked in the shadow of Arthurs Seat.

7 of us tee'd off on time after pre-match bar refreshments, but where was the 8th man?

Half way down the 2nd a call was put in for the whereabouts of Gill Scott. He was to be found ice cream in hand sightseeing around Portobello on a double-decker bus, on hearing we'd tee'd off he casually disembarked. After six different modes of transport, he appeared red-faced at the 8th Green ready to play.

The big man prevailed fending off late challenges from Wanner-Halder, Spike and miraculously Gill who despite only picking up points since the 8th, fuelled by ice cream put in an impressive round together.

2015 - BRADFORD

Big Man pragmatically chose a location of precise equi-distance between Edinburgh and London. So we found ourselves at the Marriot Hotel Bradford with adjoing golf course.

A splattering of tattooed wedding guests were to be our temporary beer mates on the first night.

A relatively easy course was made to look very difficult over the two days with lost ball misery and low scoring being the order of the day.

2016 - COUNTY WICKLOW - The Hunt for Angus Craigie

Dear Messieurs du le Bol de Poissons,

Firstly thanks to Simon Wanner-Halder for his work on the website www.www.fishbowlgolf.co.uk

Please contribute. There are some blanks to fill in...'if you remember the 60's [read:Fishbowl] you weren't there' is a famous

quote that comes to mind and could apply to some of these trips. In which case, poetic licence can be used.

Simon has been chasing me to write a match report. This enthusiasm is as impressive as his holey creosote-stained golfing

corduroys (!) he even provided some encouragement in the form of a paragraph below. Incidentally, I use his full name above in deference to his recently discovered famous and talented ancestor of the same last names. See Wikipedia. It would seem that a talent for golf does not flow through the bloodline but rather a shared history in Engineering. Albeit the ancestor probably

didn't scrape a Desmond. Or was it a Douglas Hurd Hugh?

Talking of infamous people, In Search of Ciderman was the theme of this year's Fishbowl. And S W-H remained sanguine throughout the fruitless foraging for our erstwhile potato-appreciating pal. The lesser spotted Angus unwittingly drew us to Wicklow, hopeful of a VIP tasting area at his distillery. And perhaps a volume discount and free delivery to Madrid.

Simon : After some shenanigans at Dublin airport where extra pints of Guinness were handed out to passersby (the richmond sisters desire to craic on and enjoy the treatments and facilitites on offer at the hotel was overwhelming), our band of intrepid Fishbowlers arrived at the scene of this year's fishbowl.....Enthusiasm wasnt diminished on finding out the main reason for visiting County Wicklow was to be out of bounds, Angus Craigie declared himself unavailable for selection.

1st Round Glen of the Downs :

Arrived early to prepare with shots. Not golf shots. Where is Glen who downs shots? Early penalties issued.

Al's hole in one attempt on the 1st - how close was it....? See photo. The one that got away.

Note to self: remember larger golf bags for kerry Oot.

Lorne was a bit wobbly by the 6th tee after mixing Magners with Heineken. See photo.

Wineshank taking on the appalling etiquette objectives of Winkie Holder circa 1991. Stained white t shirt not tucked in. Unshaven. Brazen swearing. Much like an ex amateur rugby player. See photo of random book dedication from Pitbull.

Saturday night half way house: Steve got us into the Hungry Monk. Lovely romantic candle lit meal and a celebrity visit from Boot. Nobody went out of bounds despite the number of water hazards and birds of prey. No sign of an albatross on a dog leg.

2nd Round Powerscourt : Spike holds court with power game.

Spike Mulligan resplendent in Donald Trump red baseball cap. The one he always wears on the last day of a major. Ignoring all allegations of ball tampering.

Shortened to 14 holes on request from Spike. To suit the Spike power game. Looking to trump all rivals.

Gil in the dock. Early pressure showing amongst the leaders going into the final day. Spike vocal. Gil not helping him find his ball.

French up ahead, slowing the game down. Sulking over Brexit. Immovable like a lorry jam at Calais, despite The Big Man's impersonation of Rio's Christ the Redeemer from on high, 'CMON...ZUT ALORS FOR FROG SAKE'.

But this slow pace suited the wildcard Al Boy and his spoon. Freshly pumped full of oxygen after a night on his secret machine (Basil consulting the R&A rule book and taking advice from his cousin Lance Armstrong).

Brian trying desperately not to win again. Experimenting with new swing styles and methodology i.e. Not

smoking reefer and keeping his eyes closed on impact. Teeing off on one leg. Leaving his jigger in the bag.

This having an adverse affect on impressionable younger brother Joey. Once again, discovering his old shanking habit. Back from the days when he drank Belhaven and Youngers No.3. Golf towel mysteriously absent.

Twix then Mars Bar at the turn not helping Lorne's bad knee.

Joe dreaming of Marlboro red and elusive birdies. And then..

Steve improving rapidly as the 19th hole came into view. Awarding himself a feather in his cap. In fact a salty feather from a herring gull, befitting of an able semen such as he.

Al demanding the stroke by stroke score as the last hole approaches. He's on the dance floor. Great pressure on the final green. Time penalties, fading light, heckles, yips. Scott scrapes the win with his niblick from the fringe as Al's 36th stroke slips away.

My win is dedicated to Captain Haddock of the Spanish Armada for sailing in. I now model myself on him, photo enclosed. And to my room mate Alan for not snoring. And finally to my mid-mashie which replaced my misbehaving driver.

Congratulations to the Rest of the World for their victory in the team event, despite the absence of world number one Steve Andy Murray and inaugural winner, our thirsty chum, TWG. 18 East Preston will return once we fix the bathroom window.

Madrid will be fantastic. Mahou and tapas in the sun. The greens are like snooker tables. I'll be in touch with Steve and back to you soon with fate suggestions. Ahhh, predictive text....I meant date suggestions.

Great to see you all.

Gil

2017 - MADRID - “What could possibly go wrong?”

A selection of middle aged, respectably employed (mostly), middle class gentlemen who had all undergone the finest higher education available in Scotland descended on Madrid, the distinguished capital of the second noblest country in Europe, under the guidance of a local resident with an intimate knowledge of the finest gastronomic and vinicultural venues. What, indeed, could possibly go wrong?

As it turned out, quite a lot.

The introductory evening (Thursday) was a relatively quiet affair, largely due to the aforementioned hosts ability to keep the assembled throng as far from any of his fellow residents as possible. Al even went to bed before 7am, in contravention of all previous precedent. However, he did manage to locate an appropriately seedy nightspot in close proximity to the hotel, where he made himself instantly popular. Was it his witty banter and startling good looks that attracted him to the local populace, or his wallet? Neither, as it turned out, but rather his watch and phone (see further below).

The first round of golf – or waste of valuable drinking time, depending on your perspective – maintained the same mildly shambolic aura that was to pervade the tour. It did at least introduce us all to the genuinely novel concept of having to display a passport before being allowed on to the course. Fortunately, handicap certificates were not required.

Having negotiated the security surrounding the Santander Bank Golf Club, it was difficult not to be impressed by the quality of the facilities. It was easier not to be impressed by the quality of the golf, which did not match the surroundings. Even the pre-tournament favourites G Watson and B Richmond, genuinely heavy weight talents, struggled with the conditions (bright sunlight, no wind and immaculate greens).

With the golf safely negotiated, attention could be turned to the serious business of sampling the many delights of Madrid’s al fresco wining and dining facilities. Or not. Instead we were treated to a subterranean bar that appeared to have been modelled on Saddam Hussein’s final abodes. Joseph Fritzl would have considered it perfect for retaining female hostages, but it did not find favour with the Fishbowl Golfers. Fortunately, the dining facilities at the restaurant proved infinitely superior, although the perplexing underground theme was maintained.

The evening took an entertaining turn when Al persuaded Simon that his venue from the previous night was the place to be. Apart from being punched in the face, having his phone stolen and losing his glasses, Simon had a great time and remains grateful to Al for his recommendation.

The second round of golf was possibly in an even more impressive setting, in the heartlands of Fascism. As well as making trains run on time, those boys knew how to build a golf course. Again the golf failed to match the quality of the surroundings and in a triumph of mediocrity over incompetence, Spike Milligan QC proved marginally less inept than the rest of the competition.

The evening entertainment included truly magnificent dinner at remarkably modest cost. Watsons may not be use for much but they are good on their food and drink, and what else really matters?

Despite the shenanigans of the previous evening, there was then a lemming like rush back to the Icon Nightclub. This time it was Al’s turn to be mugged.

The final event was the handing over of the trophy to the surprise winner. Remarkably the previous winner had failed to have the trophy engraved, leading to G Scott being the first person to be named as both winner and loser for the same year.

The return journey was also eventful. Gil remained as a slightly unexpected but no doubt very welcome guest for another night with Winebar. The rest headed to the airport. Although Glen had left his car at Edinburgh and was planning to drive home, he became inexplicably drunk on the flight back. Perhaps to demonstrate his incapacity to drive, he befriended an Australian visitor in the way only a drunk Scot can. Whilst one minute his best friend, he also accused the unknown Antipodean of being both a “sheep shagger” and a “botty basher”. The friendship was short lived.

The tour was generally declared a triumph and we can all be grateful that it is a year until the next one.

EDINBURGH 2018 - Duddingston

Tomfoolery and Monkey Business

This year our contingent of incompetent golfers went back to the heartland of fishbowl golf. Edinburgh

Day 1

To Spike's and Glen's prestigious golf club in East Lothian - Luffness New Golf Club

On arrival, all guests were smartly dressed (despite ignoring the mustard or raspberry trousers unwritten dress code) to embark upon a three course lunch.

>A quick pre lunch aperitif and some introductory banter was enough to send a fellow golfer at our table asleep into his pint. Undeterred we stepped over him and headed to the dining room.

After three hours of lunch and preparation our six qualifiers headed for the course only to be met by hailstones and violent North Sea gusts, a hasty retreat back to the clubhouse was required which allowed another couple of shots of kimmel to brace ourselves for the torment ahead.

Finally the chaps tee'd off on the first and all six unsafely avoided the fairway and found some jungle rough to navigate themsleves through. The golf itself was quite testing and low stableford scoring was in vogue. After 12 holes of ball hunting the chaps returned to the clubhouse, deciding this was to be a practice round and prepared for the evening entertainment that Spike had laid on. Thankfully completely devoid of any Madridian style nightclubs.

Day 2

Refreshed from an early evening on Friday - Even Al was tucked up in bed by 5.26 (am) a new course record - our contingent rendezvouzed at Duddingston Golf clubhouse. A pint with ex-Scottish Hooker Kenny Milne was followed by a hearty lunch

And so to the competition

Basil had once again handicapped the qualifiers generously but accurately.

Al playing off a ladylike 36 nearly had a double albatross (or something like that) on the first hole, but after a dismal putting display walked off with a quindriple bogey chuntering to himself.

Joey, the silverback of the group, kept Al company and naturally won the longest drive.

Whilst behind them Halder (trying out his new champanzee grip) and Spike had started impressively

and by the turn had notched up 20 and 18 Stableford points repectively . Unfortunately (fortunately) Gil's golf was more sloth like and his lack of golfing skill and practice was cruelly exposed, which only spiralled into that pit of golfing shite. He was able to find some form towards the end when pairing up with Joey, as if trying to impress the Silverback.

By which point, Halder had swung into an unassailable lead, by the time they all shook hands on the 18th green he was able to return 42 stableford points and with 86 shots was just 14 over par. The dream round ,the fishbowl trophy was his.

Quick change and out for dinner. Joey seemed distressed at the lack of bath towels being offered in the Duddingston changing rooms after his shower, but after shaking a few branches with the staff, he finally settled on a (ahem clean) bar towel to dry off with, which he gallantly shared with Al and Spike.

Out in Edinburgh later on, Tom joined us, and was on fine form but high spirits turned into silliness when the Wanner-Peterkins and Gil started aping around with the esteemed trophy by passing and grubba kicking it down the royal mile. It now lies in 4 separate pieces, but the cuplrits are confident repairs can be made. We shall see....

The tour reconvenes next year....