Tiger Woods is addictive. And fairly good at golf. But mostly addictive. At least, that’s what his highest-earning bit-on-the-side would have us believe.
Tiger spent most of 2009 in the laps of assorted waitresses and porn stars, while his wingman went for the Wingman Medal of Honour the same year (and won).
Seriously, so far as dredging the gutters of their respective post codes for women of questionable repute/ irrevocably damaged self-esteem, Tiger was probably only bested by Jesse James – both were equal so far as going to impressive lengths to sleep with women less attractive than their actual wives.
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Yesterday was going to be ace. Yesterday Rachel Uchitel – the woman accused of boning Tiger Woods – was going to reveal all.
Didn’t happen. For some reason Rachel Uchitel decided to back out of her big tell-all megabucks interview about Tiger Woods at the last minute. And now everyone wants to know why. Did Tiger Woods pay Rachel Uchitel off? Was Rachel Uchitel scared that she’d open herself up to more unwanted media intrusion by talking?
Or was Rachel Uchitel she scared that a Chinese news agency would create a bad computer animation out of whatever she said? Was that it? Huh, Rachel? Don’t lie to us!
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If Tiger Woods ever wants to release a perfume, at least this crappy week has given him the perfect name for it.
Transgression: For Men. You see, Tiger Woods has finally admitted to doing something wrong. He didn’t actually say what it was that he did wrong – it could have been sleeping with all those women behind his wife’s back, or maybe he did an armpit fart in front of a vicar, we just know – but he definitely did something wrong, and now it’s all out in the open. Sort of.
But now people want to know if Tiger Woods has wrecked his sponsorship potential. Hardly – he’s a golfer who women willingly want to have sex with. This has never happened before, in the entire history of golf. He’s going to be a gazillionaire!
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Just a hunch, but this Tiger Woods stuff means that we could soon see the world’s bitterest divorce.
Actually, that probably needs a qualifier. We could soon see the world’s bitterest divorce not to feature a one-legged woman and an old man who looks like your grandmother. There, that’s better.
What makes us so certain of the bitterness? Well, following the crash that was allegedly prompted by Elin Nordegren‘s discovery of a rumoured affair between Tiger Woods and Rachel Uchitel, another woman has come forward to claim that she had an affair with Tiger Woods, too. What is it about billionaire athlete Tiger Woods that attracts all these dead-eyed bimbos? Maybe we’ll never know.
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The worst thing about all this Tiger Woods business is obviously the effect that it’ll have on our faces.
Tiger Woods advertises Gillette, remember. But if he’s really been having an affair with Rachel Uchitel, how are we supposed to trust him? We already don’t trust Thierry Henry (because of his handball) or Roger Federer (because his eyes are too close together) – so if we can’t trust Tiger Woods, then what are we going to do with our faces? We’ll have to grow beards, that’s what. We hate beards. Damn you, Tiger Woods.
But luckily it might not come to that. Tiger’s alleged mistress Rachel Uchitel has swung to the rescue and offered to take a lie detector test to sort this mess out.
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Let’s get the puns out of the way first, shall we? We always thought that Tiger Woods was a good driver.
His wife must’ve been pretty teed off. She must have been green with envy. What was Tiger Woods driving, a Volkswagen Golf? Ah, that’s all we’ve got. Anyway, with rumours abound that Tiger Woods crashed his car on Friday because his wife attacked him after learning of an affair, something needed to be done. So it has – Rachel Uchitel, Tiger Woods’s alleged mistress, has denied everything.
But we suppose that’s just par for the course. Sorry. We’re really very sorry. We really can’t emphasise that enough.
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Tiger Woods is addictive. And fairly good at golf. But mostly addictive. At least, that’s what his highest-earning bit-on-the-side would have us believe.
