She's... It's... Now wait a minute...
It’s time for three complex conundrums and three handy solutions.
Question One: You’re playing in the golf club championship tournament finals and the match is even at the end of 17 holes. You tee off first and hit your ball a modest 250 yards to the middle of the fairway, leaving a simple six iron to the pin.
Your opponent then hits his ball, lofting it deep into the woods to the right of the fairway. Being the golfing lady or gentleman that you are, you help your opponent look for his ball. Just before the permitted five minute search period ends, your opponent says, “Go ahead and hit your second shot and if I don’t find it in time, I’ll concede the match.”
You hit your ball, landing it on the green, stopping about ten feet from the pin. About the time your ball comes to rest, you hear your opponent exclaim from deep in the woods: “I found it!”
The second sound you hear is the sound of a club striking a ball. The ball comes sailing out of the woods and lands on the green, stopping no more than six inches from the hole.
You put your hand in your pocket, where you have your opponent’s ball. Now what?
Question Two: Why do they lock gas station bathrooms? Are they afraid someone will clean them? (Doesn’t apply in European petrol stations which are always pristine. Aren’t they?)
Question Three: Are you a male of a female?
Not sure?
Have a look further down to find out…
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.NOT IN THE EMAIL STUPID!
I worry about you sometimes.
Solutions One and Two: You need only two tools: WD-40 and duct tape. If it doesn’t move and it should, use WD-40. If it moves and shouldn’t, use the tape.
Solution Three: If you like someone but fear that your incompatibility may be too complex to overcome, watch this short clip that I spotted at World Music…
[This helpful guide to complex problems and solutions was brought to you courtesy of the Loose Bloggers Consortium. You’ll find other members wrestling with complexity by scrolling down the right-hand side and clicking on their links.]
Blackwatertown 
1. Golf is a waste of a good walk- get a life, get a dog!
2.In my earlier times, there were no public toilets, so we all had to rely on strong bladders and discreetly concealed gadgetry.
3. I prefer not to look down at this time of the morning for personal reasons!
I’m intrigued by that “discreetly concealed gadgetry” of which you speak. Sounds very Heath Robinson, with whirring and pulleys.
Talk about fish eyes!
They do seem to suit her.
I don’t play golf. I live in India, we use the open air. Sometimes one and sometimes the other. Now what does that make of me? A complex character, that is what.
Ahh – I see. That’s why you don’t play golf in India – for fear that the rough might turn out to be more unpleasant than you expected.
Can you hear me laugh?
Our esteemed scribe may have the answer to his golf ball question closer to his doorstep than he realises (or is prepared to concede), when he wrote the other day that “you can expect to find occasional handlebar moustaches, hyphenated surnames, stiff drinks, greed, treachery and death” there.
Brilliant – something for me to put in the blurb for my book “esteemed scribe”.
Thank God I don’t play golf! I would be in trouble.
What the…? I’m concerned for you, Paul. Maybe you have too much time on your hands. Blessings – Maxi
I may give that impression – but it’s not true.
These questions are way too complex for me. Especially as I’ve never played golf. I think I’ll have a little lie-down with a wet towel wrapped round my head.
I’ve played river golf. It’s like normal golf, except that instead of aiming for the hole you try to get your ball in the river. I was very successful, especially with the Margy river.
If I didn’t love you already, Paul, on the strength of those three questions alone I’d drop my handkerchief in fervent hope that you’d retrieve it before another suitor comes along.
A most wonderful moral conundrum: Your opponent ‘finds’ his ball, which is in your pocket. It’s so bloody brilliant I wish I’d thought of it. I suppose at best you know that in future you won’t trust your golf partner ever again. At worst you know what a double crossing swindler you yourself are.
Thank you so much for the answer to the locked toilet torture (bladders can only hold so much before they burst; and there comes a time for a grown woman when you can’t just stand there with your legs crossed hoping no one will make you laugh).. I have often wondered but was in too much of a rush to get hold of the key, and so relieved afterwards, that the question was never posed.
Male or female? I wish they’d give us more options. After all, you can’t so much as register with a doctor without facing a barrage as to which world’s religion you subscribe to. I love the “Prefer not to say” (at the end). Then you enter your doctor’s room in full Burka.
And no, I am not a hermaphrodite,
U
The golf conundrum has me reaching for my deadly bowler hat a la Oddjob in Goldfinger.
Number 2 is a very good question. Maybe it’s not so much to keep people out as to keep something in….