John Gibson: It's all about trickery with the hickory

Published on Wednesday 7 October 2009 09:08

HICKORY dickory Donkin. We had the World Hickory Open Championship in these parts the other week, didn't you know? With hickory-shafted golf clubs.

How the ancient game was played and Brian Donkin felt obliged – nay, his duty – to participate because he has named the bar/restaurant he recently opened in Constitution Street Leith Lynx.

And you should know that golf was first played on neighbouring Leith Links. That's the claim.

Donkin, dubbed the Mad Colonel after parading in an Albanian Army uniform to publicise one his pubs (those included the Cafe Royal for a couple of years), played in a qualifying round of the world event.

The championship was held over Musselburgh Old Course, Craigielaw and Gullane 2, with the final at Gullane covered the day long by Sky Sports.

Chairman of the affair and Craigielaw club captain Louis Freedman was delighted to see 240 players involved, saying it will be back again next summer.

Meantime, drop into Leith Lynx where funster Donkin, as well as dispensing quality eats, serves up merry quips, some of dubious aid to the digestion.

Example: A man goes into the dentist's saying: "I think I'm a moth." The reply: "But I'm a dentist." Argues the man: "But it's your light that's on."

Toothache is preferable, Colonel.

Simon says

To be frank, I'm no fan of Simon Cowell. Never watch him on telly but there's no avoiding his picture in the papers. So stinking rich that he blew a million quid on his whoopee 50th birthday party at the weekend.

Reluctantly, I've warmed to him ever so slightly (no, I haven't) on discovering that he is a "plain eater". His celebrity guests were served shepherd's pie, fishfingers and chips and, for dessert, apple crumble, bread and butter pud and rice with jam.

The canapes: smoked salmon triangles and mini Yorshire puddings with roast beef inside. All to-die-for scran.

Perhaps as well simple Simon forgot to invite me. I'd have made an absolute pig of myself. How vulgar.

Belated happy birthday, old son. You might at least have thanked me for my card.

Afterwords . .

. . Sunday will be the first World Porridge Day. Makes no difference to me, I always get my oats on the Sabbath. Which reminds me, we need a new spurtle.