Tiger was on stage at Pebble Beach yesterday with Tiger Foundation Board Members Pete and Mike and entertained the audience with the story behind his poor performance at the Ryder Cup following his Tour Championship win.

"Well it was a bit like this," Tiger said shifting his right buttock up off the chair and farting. "After finishing up with the interviews and all that shit that Sunday night, a few of the lads were waiting for me in the locker room and we started on the beer. I know I know I know......we shouldn't have......but then Justin and Rickie said "Sure we'll be dead long enough" so I said 'fuck it, we'll have a few'.

We definitely had a few bottles of Bud to start, I remember that clearly. Phil was tearing the labels off with his nail and flicking them at lads. Prick. Then I think we went on pints of cider, a couple of Jaagers, fat frogs and ended up on vodka and red bull.  No wait, we ended up on G&T after that to try and sober up a bit coz we all had to drive.  Then we got a few cans and went back to mine to play FIFA on the playstation. I think. Anyway I didn't get a feckin' shower until Tuesday I'd say. There were flies and dogs following me down the street.

Anyway the long and the short of it is one of the lads must have put me to bed and lo and behold I wake up in fucking France of all places with a banging hangover. I was rightly confused.  I'm telling ye tell ye lads I've woken up in some strange places but France? WTF?

I had completely forgotten about the Ryder Cup. And to collect the kids from Granny's house Sunday night. She was going mental. She'll never mind them again now.  Anyway back to the story and waking up in France.

Next thing Zach Johnson is there standing over me in his spiderman underpants, I still don't know why he was there. He's rubbin' his hands excitedly and sayin' "I know what'll fix that headache" and produces a case of wine in the hotel bedroom. He says then that he's figured out a way to chromecast Debbie Does Dallas from Xhamster on his phone onto the telly.  Sure we stayed there all day watching Debbie with the little hotel facecloths, drinkin' red wine and saying the Rosary.  You should seen Johnson's teeth! They were pure rotten with the wine!

Then next thing I know I'm on a golf course with Pat Reed.  Now it doesn't take Stephen Hawking to figure out that going from Debbie's adventures to looking at that miserable bastard didn't do much for my mood and things generally went to shit after that. About eight times actually. I was in every portaloo in Paris.  Had to have been the Budweiser. Full of chemicals.

More as it emerges.


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