Go on. That would be funnier.
When I was 15 we used to play a lot and one day I set out to get a score for a tourney. My mum, always glad to see me leave the house on sunny days, wished me well. First hole fucked up the tee off and it went downhill from there. Ended up with a 7. Up the second, same story as clubs flew about as I went mental. Turned in a six, picked up the club's I still had, left and went home. My mum greeted me with, Oh Christ, I thought you would hbe away for hours. Great, you can help me clean the house and that grass need a cutting. In that instance I realised playing golf, no matter how badly, got you out of stuff you hated.
Literally a schoolboy error.