Yes, there is an insidiousness that seeps out through the cracks of the famous stone bridges and castles every year when the Open comes along. It plagues the average golf fan and forces many a tv viewer to turn the channel in disgust. With the aid of stern drink, this evil takes hold and seeks to outshine the gleam of the well-polished Claret Jug. What is this sinister foe?
Woefully bad fake Scottish accents. Everyone has to try it. I'm surprised Boo Weekley hasn't attempted a Sean Connery imitation yet.
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