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Bear is part of a secret clique of witty golf-playing anti-globalisation corporate barons. They are bored by the simplicity with which they control the world, tired by the limp submissiveness of its governments, and now they seek a real challenge. They have tried table tennis, but find it ultimately too familiar. They have tried cars, drugs, and High Altitude, Low Opening parachute jumping. They are hard as nails. They fear only ridicule. Thus, they are now preparing for a dual assault on their own stress levels: stand-up comedy eighteen hole golf. Not only must they play perfect strokes, they must amuse a crowd of drunken clubgoers. For expert wits like Bear, a further restriction applies - on the basis that it's the way you tell them, they are only allowed to use bad jokes.
Bear, I salute you. My caddy is your caddy, my clubs are yours to borrow.
You can't join my secret world-ruling clique, however, because you already have your own.
Anna: I think your idea is excellent. We will have an exclusive clique and include everyone while being very rigorous about entrance. I'm not sure whether I'm even going to allow myself in, though I'm sure I will eventually, but really, I'm not the sort of person we want. Still, it would be a shame to have to refuse me, so... well, all right then. |
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