ERROL PARKER | Editor-at-large | Contact
The prospect of going without share dividends this quarter is unfathomable for Doug Lachlan, a local 69-year-old retiree who says he largely depends on them to sustain his lifestyle.
He even went as far as telling The Advocate that he’d rather have ‘that fucking coronavirus’ than alter his spending habits even slightly.
“If I’m not going to get my fully franked bank dividends then I might as well be fucking dead,” he yelled.
Mr Lachlan and our reporter spoke briefly on the fifth green at the Betoota Heights Golf Club. While he was already annoyed with the current measured aimed at controlling the deadly virus, Doug became irate when our reporter and his playing partner dropped two balls on the fringe of the green while he was trying to put.
“Fuck you, Sonny Jim! You want to play up my arse, do you?” he yelled as he hit our reporter’s ball off the green’s apron and into the bushes.
After our reporter’s playing partner threatened to ‘wrap his fucking putter’ around Mr Lachlan’s head, he started to backpedal.
“Sorry, boys. I’m just anxious as hell about my money. I’m not rich by any means. I saved up to buy all this gear!” he said after our reporter watched him lose at least half a dozen Pro V1s in five holes.
“But I need these credits to get by. Now tell you fucking donkey-eared mate to calm down before I drop him!”
And with that, our reporter’s playing partner swung his putter violently at Mr Lachlan, catching him on the pointed index finger on his hand.
It connected with such force that it ripped the digit clean off, sending it in a high arc toward the bushes where Mr Lachlan had hit our reporter’s ball some two minutes prior.
Off in the distance beside the bushes, a dog walker lost control of her head-strong Pekingese bitch as it tore off to collect the finger as it came to rest in the rough.
Our reporter, his playing partner, Mr Lachlan, his playing partner and the owner of said Pekingese bitch spent the next quarter of an hour trying to bribe the dog into dropping the finger, which it was now grinding with its back teeth.
Sadly, the Pekingese didn’t want our reporter’s corn chips or her master’s THC gummy worms so Mr Lachlan resigned to fate and walked towards the ambulance waiting in the clubhouse carpark.
More to come.
