Snodgrass: Why? The first and only question that comes to mind is why? Why do you torment me so? When my drives are good my short game suffers. When my putting is dead on my driver gives me fits. When my games is decent, the weather turns foul. You are a capricious and malicious spirit!
Calum: It is true that I abhor the arrogant and torment those who believe they are proficient at the grand and ancient game. No man will ever appreciate a victory that is not paid for in blood. I keep men and the glorious sport of kings pure by weeding out the sniveling and weak.
Snodgrass: I could feel your clammy breath on my neck as I played the 17th on the old course of St. Andrews last week. You picked up my ball and threw it into the bunker, did you not?
Calum: It’s true. I often come to watch you futz about the links, but I only torture those who play golf. I wouldn’t waste my time providing you with more trials and tribulations. You are quite adequate at destroying your own score.
Snodgrass: How did you come to be known as the spirit of St. Andrews? At one time you were a heroic warrior protecting Scotland from the thieving English.
Calum: In my own way, I am still defending Scotland’s honor. Golf is one of the few honest pursuits, it will challenge a man’s will and reveal his character. I’ve watched you play and that is how I am certain that you are a bully with little moral fiber.
Snodgrass: Has anyone ever given you more offering or respect than me? I’ve sacrificed single malt scotches and strewn your alter with gifts. Yet, you can’t even allow me to have one decent day on the links.
Calum: If you play the links every day for the next thousand years you’ll never break par.
Snodgrass: Villain! You have placed a curse on me?
Calum: No, that would be a redundancy. You are just very poor at golf.