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Mind your language
Then there was the caddie with a similarly embarrassing vocabulary and reputation. He'd been assigned to caddie for the local Anglican bishop and warned by the caddiemaster to say nothing unless spoken to.
Things went well for a couple of holes. Then on the third the bishop's stroke was not quite clean.
"Where did that sod go, caddie?" asked the churchman looking to replace a divot he'd shifted.
"Into the bloody bunker," retorted the caddie who'd watched the ball, "and don't forget you started it."
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