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Golf Humor

Here are some golfing jokes and cartoon that you might find humorous.

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Show me a man who is a good loser and I'll show you a man who is playing golf with his boss.

A guy stood over his tee shot for what seemed an eternity, looking up, looking down, measuring the distance, figuring the wind direction and speed... driving his partner nuts.
Finally his exasperated partner says, "What the is taking so long? Hit the ball!"
The guy answers, "My wife is up there watching me from the clubhouse. I want to make this a perfect shot."
"Give me a break! You don't stand a snowball's chance of hitting her from here."

PAR: What a golf addict's children call their father.

A man went to the doctor with a strange complaint.
"Well it's like this Doc, whenever I play golf, I fall in love with the beautiful, lush fairways and greens we are playing on, and I just burst into song."
"What's wrong with that?" said the doc.
Well all I ever sing when we're on the course is 'The Green Green Grass of Home' and it's annoying my colleagues.
But there's more .... When we get back to the clubhouse, in the bar is the lucky black cat that lives at the club, then at the top of my voice I start singing" 'What's new, pussy cat?' and all I get is a barrage of complaint from the other members in the bar.
"Can't you sing some different tunes?" said the doctor.
"Well no, I just can't seem to sing anything else, but then it gets worse because when I get home, it continues and when I'm asleep and dreaming, I always sing 'Delilah', and my wife is increasingly getting really angry and suspicious. But I just can't seem to stop singing these same tunes"
"Ah, yes I see, I am beginning to suspect that you have the early symptoms of Tom Jones syndrome".
"Well I've never heard of that, is it common?" asked the man.
"It's not unusual", replied the doctor.

Did you hear what the condemned golfer's last words to the hangman were?
"Do you mind if I have a few practice swings?"

In Africa some of the native tribes have a custom of beating the ground with clubs and uttering spine chilling cries. Anthropologists call this a form of primitive self-expression. In America we call it golf.

Golf - the sport in which you shout "Fore!", shoot five and write three.

My brother went to the doctor's and said, 'Some days, I think I'm a golf ball.'
The doctor said, 'Well you've come a fair way to see me...'

This man wrote into the Daily Mirror for some advice. He said, 'Dear Marge, I must get this off my chest. I did this awful golf shot, and the ball didn't go anywhere near: the green. In fact it landed on this bloke's head and killed him. What shall I do?'
Marge said, 'Try and get more rhythm in your swing.'

Useless Golfer: I expect you get a good many weekenders on this golf course?
Caddie: Yes, plus quite a few weak beginners.

Near the end of a tense golf match, a temperamental player was thrown off his game. His caddie, it seems, had developed a severe case of hiccups. It continued for several holes and finally on the eighteenth hold the man's drive sliced into a grove of trees. Slamming his club to the ground, he turned on his caddie. "That was because of you and your hiccups!"
"But, I didn't hiccup then, sir," protested the caddie.
"That's just the point," screamed the player. "I had 'allowed' for it!"

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