Nick took Blake to the range to practice his golf.
But if another golfer tried to hit their balls Blake would run after them, shouting: "Mine balla, mine balla!! Go get them balla's"
After complaints Nick and Blake went home.
Later that week, Blake spent the day with me.
He opens his bag of balla's. Every size and shape. But, no golf balls.
"Wrong balla's. Gummy, these are kakka!" he wails.
So Steven buys 12 ping-pong balla's. The real ones would smash every window to smithereens.
A beaming Blake blasts them down the passage, and then silence.
"Boet, come here!" he calls Steven.
There stands Blake leaning on the club, other hand on his hip, with one foot crossed over the other.
Steven has now been appointed as the caddy, and is expected to retrieve balls from under the beds and in the bathrooms.
Meanwhile, I discover a laptop in the bag and switch it on.
"Hello and Welcome. Please press the red button and we can begin."
Blake marches into the sitting room and presses the off switch.
"Bye-bye, see you later."
"Bye-bye", says Blake.
I flick the on button. Blake presses the off switch.
"Bye-bye. See you later."
"Bye-bye," bellows Blake, "I said bye-bye. Bye-bye. Now go away. I'm playing golf. Can't you see?"