Last week I was in Wales, with a limited edition collection of friends. I will be putting up a few of the tales from our week in wales, because, nothing else happens in my life now I've killed my arch-nemesis... I mean... now he's disappeared without a trace...
Anyway, this brings us onto my Welsh adventure to Rhyl or Rhyll as the street vendors spell it, the dirty bastards.
Royston, who had lead the expedition into the wilderness that was Wales, had stated that his great Aunt Confucius, always went to the legendary land of Rhyl on holiday. I joked that perchance this was due to it being a swingers resort... he was not amused. So we went off in search of Rhyl, with it's beautiful sandy beaches, and rivers of gold.
It turns out that there are rivers of gold, but that gold is urine. Ryhl is a classic British sea-side resort, I.e. it's shit. There are more penny pushing arcade machines than there are people, something that I raised with a local policeman as something he should keep an eye on in case of Robotic Rebellion!
As we walked around this picturesque town, we happened upon a crazy golf attraction... entitled "ADVENTURE GOLF!"
"Hazar" I screamed with glee, as I enjoy golf in it's crazy variety, and with a name like "Adventure Golf" I was sure I'd have a good time!
The very name "Adventure Golf" sent a thousand ideas through my head as to what to expect. I thought, that I would feel like a fabled knight, journeying through distant lands, over perilous monster infested swamps and jungles, to strange cities populated with crazed magicians and riddling witches, then finally my journey would end when I slay the fiendish dragon and rescue the damsel in distress.
My idea of adventure was a little off the mark compared to Rhyl's imaginative imaginers! There idea of adventure was to put a rock in the middle of the course, or add a hump, or two rocks.
So yeah, it was... pathetic. However, we still had fun, and I made it a little more interesting by hitting the ball as hard as I could, and then spending the next five minutes routing through a bush (Careful) to find my ball.
So, if you find yourself in the wonderful land of Rhyl and fancy some adventure golf, I propose that you pay the admission fee, then hit the ball at one of the employees and try to flee over the course. Now that would be an adventure!
More on the Wales Week to follow!