This week, members of the Inbetweeners Golf Society gathered at their home course, El Plantío, for their own slightly less prestigious—but no less fiercely contested—version of the Masters.
With wall-to-wall sunshine and a gentle breeze, conditions were as close to Augusta as you’re likely to get without a transatlantic flight.

The course was in excellent shape, although the famously tricky greens caused enough confusion to suggest they may have been designed by someone with a personal vendetta—subtle breaks that would have even given Rory McIlroy a quiet mutter.

As ever, the round delivered a full spectrum of golfing entertainment: moments of brilliance that briefly sparked dreams of a Green Jacket, mixed in with the occasional shot that would’ve been better off left in the bag. Course management ranged from “bold” to “what on earth was he thinking?”, but confidence remained impressively high throughout.

The competitive spirit was alive and well, with every missed putt met by a chorus of encouragement (and entirely supportive laughter). Claims of “that moved at the end” and “I definitely read that right” echoed across the greens with increasing frequency. By the time the final putts dropped, scorecards had been… interpreted, stories had already grown in the telling, and the post-round analysis was in full swing over well-earned refreshments.
While no Green Jacket was slipped onto the winner’s shoulders, the bragging rights—and selective memory—were firmly secured.