It's every golfer's dream to spend his birthday at the head of a championship leaderboard, and the same can also be said for writers of spoof stories, and that's exactly what happened to TheSpoof.com's little-known and even-less-loved scribbler of shite, Monkey Woods, today, the 24th June 2010.
In his nervous excitement, Woods, 47 today, woke at 5am and rubbed his eyes, then hastily removed his pyjamas and had a shower whilst his wife fired-up the computer, in order that the idiot writer could find out if he still stood atop the rankings on TheSpoof.
And what a lovely surprise it was to discover that, not only was he still the Top Writer, but he was still the Top Writer by some considerable margin - more than 10,000 points - a Spoof record!
Clinging to this lead as if his life depended upon it, Woods quickly thought of another shit story to consolidate his Top Writer position, something that only a desperate man or a lunatic would do. Woods is both.
The story you are reading is the pathetic result of this desperate lunacy.
Woods told me as I travelled on the bus with him to his place of work:
"Happy Birthday to me!
Happy Birthday to me!
Happy Birthday, dear Monkey!
At the top of the tree!"