Dear Uncle Nigel,

I am a kind of sad and lonely person , I maybe Royal, but that’s not my fault. Luck of birth, old son.

But here I am, keen golfer, always favourite with the ladies, I like splashing the cash, even if its not mine !, and , well having a jolly good time, BUT.


Recently the beastly press chappies have started hounding me in the Sunday rags, telling everyone that I have been messing about with a few bad eggs and playing with a couple of fillies, who may have been not ready for the tan gallops, if you get my drift, and that overall I am a bloody bounder !


Outrageous I hear you shout ! Indeed.


But dear Nigel, What am I to do ?

My friend Joselin, who was a prep school with me, says that you are the man who could help on these delicate matters.

I await your wise words.



Andy (Buck House)


Ps: Good luck in Yorkshire you old spawny bastard !



Dear Andy,

Fuck Off you Twat !

PS- I don’t need luck, Twat !


Do you have a Golfing problem.

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