He'd sliced his drive and watched resignedly as the ball plummeted into the woods. He followed after and found his ball - surrounded by thick undergrowth and wedged firmly between two tree roots. He contemplated the situation for a few profoundly silent minutes then turned to his caddie and asked: "You know what shot I'm going to take here."

"Yes, sir," replied the boy as he took a hip flask of malt from the bag.