Handicaps
Dom Burke: Handicap 20
One of the original founding members of the VDL Cup, Dom arrives every year with three things guaranteed: traditional golf shoes, an impressive thirst, and absolute certainty that “this is my year.” History may occasionally suggest otherwise, but you have to admire the confidence. A committed believer that no golf trip should end simply because everyone else has gone to bed, Dom can normally be found propping up the bar long after the sensible ones have disappeared. He takes his golf seriously, his footwear traditionally, and his post-round beers very seriously indeed. One year he might actually be right and lift the VDL Cup — and when that day comes, God help whoever has to stay up drinking with him to celebrate.
Chris Clark: Handicap 22
Clarky starts every VDL trip with the same convincing speech about “taking it easy this year” and not being led astray — a plan that traditionally survives about as long as his golf clubs. He secretly wishes he had Andy’s style, although no amount of shopping is likely to bridge that particular gap. A man with very definite preferences when it comes to women, and apparently very impressive credentials of his own, Clarky’s real speciality is equipment management: few golfers can claim to have accidentally snapped quite so many clubs. Sensible, sophisticated and restrained… at least according to Clarky. Everyone else knows better.
Andy Smith: Handicap 13
A previous VDL Cup winner, fitness fanatic and one of the men responsible for keeping this travelling circus organised, Smudge is always a serious threat when the first ball is struck. While everyone else is discussing where the night is heading, Andy is probably wondering whether the hotel gym opens at 6am. His legendary preference for a half pint — or a “Ken Barlow” — tells you everything you need to know about his commitment to the VDL drinking programme. On the course he’s calm, consistent and dangerously difficult to rattle, although there are persistent rumours — mainly from John Morton — that his handicap is an act of organised crime. Host, organiser, former champion and perennial bandit suspect, Smudge remains the ultimate cool customer: more likely to lift the VDL Cup than finish a full pint.
Dave Campos: Handicap 18
A Geordie, certified hard bastard and devoted follower of the caveman diet, Campos is living proof that you can survive perfectly well on meat, determination and apparently no golf practice whatsoever. Newly teetotal, Dave now has the unenviable task of watching the rest of us fall apart while remaining painfully aware of everything that’s happening. He rarely plays golf, yet somehow possesses genuine potential, making him exactly the sort of dangerous bastard nobody wants appearing on the leaderboard. He’s also done extremely well for himself in the wife department, which only makes his questionable choice of golf shoes even harder to explain. Strong, sober and potentially lethal off his handicap — if Campos ever actually starts practising, we might all be fucked.
Jonathan Jones: Handicap 18
Nobody really knows why Jonathan is called “Jetski” — including, apparently, some of the people who’ve known him the longest — but at this stage we’ve all accepted that asking questions probably won’t help. A fitness fanatic who’d much rather be out on his bike than wasting a weekend practising golf, Jetski is another fully paid-up member of the Ken Barlow drinking club, where a half pint constitutes a heavy session. Don’t let the quiet demeanour fool you, though: on the course he’s seriously dangerous, possessing arguably the smoothest and most consistent swing in the entire group. Quiet, fit, annoyingly steady and rarely hungover — Jetski could be a genuine threat if we can convince him that 18 holes is basically just a bike ride without the bike.
Dan Crowley: Handicap 16.3
One of the founding fathers of the VDL Cup, a previous winner and the undisputed leader of the travelling circus, Crowley is the man responsible for somehow turning sixteen idiots going on a golf trip into a genuinely well-organised annual event. His knowledge of Vale do Lobo is now so extensive that he’s been known to tell local taxi drivers where they’re going wrong, despite them actually living there. Dan loves his golf and arrives every year quietly convinced that this could be the year he gets his hands on the Cup again. Unfortunately, his status as the family sporting superstar has taken a bit of a battering now that his son appears to be better than him at both golf AND football. Brilliant organiser, former champion, questionable Portuguese taxi consultant and eternal contender — without Crowley there probably wouldn’t be a VDL Cup… although he’ll definitely remind us of that at some point.
Andy Ratcliffe: Handicap 16.8
The VDL Cup’s very own Steady Eddie, Andy has perfected the art of spending three days hovering around the middle of the leaderboard — never quite threatening to win, but equally refusing to embarrass himself enough to be forgotten. Off the course, however, consistency goes straight out the window. Far too easily led by Fitzy, Andy requires regular adult supervision from Adam, who has somehow inherited responsibility for making sure he gets home in one piece. A firm believer that the night isn’t over until somebody sensible physically removes him from the bar, he’s always available for a late finish. And while the trophy cabinet may remain worryingly empty, Andy can at least take comfort in one undisputed victory: his shoes are considerably better than Clarky’s.
Adam Turton: Handicap 19
Every group needs a CEO, and Adam has appointed himself to the role with absolutely no objections being accepted. Singer, guitarist and comfortably the best-dressed man on the trip, he somehow manages to look like he’s attending a corporate golf day while the rest of us look like we’ve won our outfits in a raffle. On the course, Adam possesses the sort of silky golf swing that makes you wonder why his scorecard is such a complete fucking mystery. When it clicks, he looks like a single-figure golfer; when it doesn’t, the CEO may need to launch an internal investigation. Great swing, questionable numbers, immaculate wardrobe — executive management at its finest.
John Morton: Handicap 18.9
An ex-soldier with a serious golf addiction, John approaches the game much like a military operation — except the equipment budget appears to have absolutely no upper limit. If there’s a new club, gadget or piece of golf technology promising an extra three yards, Morton’s probably already ordered two of them. His pride and joy is the legendary 9-wood, a club he’ll happily tell you about whether you’ve asked or not. He hits the ball an absolute mile and arrives at VDL as a very decent outside bet for the Cup. His other great passion is conducting a relentless investigation into Andy “Smudge” Smith’s handicap, which John firmly believes should be considerably lower. Big hitter, bigger golf budget and armed with more clubs than most pro shops — write Morton off at your peril.
Jonathon Booth: Handicap 15
An all-round great lad, enormous hitter and genuine potential VDL Cup winner, Boothy has the sort of power off the tee that makes you stop and watch — although ideally from somewhere well behind him. His accuracy hasn’t always matched the horsepower, most famously when an overhit golf ball nearly took out an unsuspecting lady in the car park, proving that with Boothy, nowhere on the property is truly safe. When he’s not endangering innocent bystanders, he’s the driving force behind organising Squabbit, another responsibility he somehow manages alongside a healthy enthusiasm for a few beers. Big hitter, big character and dangerous from almost any lie — if Boothy can keep the ball on the golf course and out of the car park, he’s got every chance of lifting the Cup.
Paul Fitzpatrick: Handicap 8.4
A previous VDL Cup winner, Rules Master and undisputed Silver Fox, Fitzy brings experience, charm and an encyclopaedic knowledge of golf rules that nobody dares question — mainly because his decision is final anyway. A renowned ladies’ man, he remains convinced that age is merely a number, a theory he occasionally tries to prove by claiming he can still do pull-ups — although we are yet to see evidence of this. Fitzy also loves a beer and considers being one of the last men standing a matter of professional pride, so any decent night out is inevitably followed by another rendition of “FITZY’S ON FIRE!” The fire continues long after closing time too, because once he finally gets to bed, the snoring begins. Champion, referee, ladies’ man, endurance drinker and part-time gymnast — Fitzy’s not just on fire, he’s fucking impossible to extinguish.
Lee Steele: Handicap 4.4
A two-time VDL Cup winner and quite possibly the best golfer in the group, Steely has already proved twice that he’s got everything required to lift the trophy — he just can’t always be arsed taking it seriously enough to make it three. Famous for taking divots big enough to require their own postcode, Lee combines effortless ability with a firm belief that golf is considerably better with a beer in your hand. Despite two VDL titles and all that talent, there’s one statistic he can’t escape: his own son has more hole-in-ones than him, a fact that should be raised at every available opportunity. Part Cockney, part Northerner and somehow convincing as neither, Steely remains the man everyone wants to beat — a proven champion whose biggest threat to a third title is probably the beer cart.
Graeme Mooney: Handicap 8.8
A vegetarian, a man of faith, three time winner and the current holder of the VDL Cup, Gramo is living proof that apparently nice guys do finish first — annoyingly, sometimes more than once. Quite possibly the nicest bloke on the trip, he combines a genuinely excellent golf game with a razor-sharp wit, quietly dismantling you with a one-liner before smiling politely and knocking another one straight down the middle. Off the course, his one obvious vice is a serious appreciation for an espresso martini, proving even the righteous have their weaknesses. He arrives in 2026 as the man everyone wants to knock off his throne, but with three titles already in the bag, the trophy currently in his possession and seemingly divine assistance on his side, getting the Cup off Gramo might require more than just good golf — we may need a fucking miracle.
Jonny Coluccio: Handicap 10.5
The Italian Stallion approaches the VDL Cup like a man preparing for the final round at Augusta — early nights, minimal alcohol and absolutely no fucking about when there’s golf to be played. While the rest of us are still arguing with the barman at 2am, Jonny is tucked up in bed dreaming of fairways, greens and finally getting his hands on the Cup. Make no mistake, he’s a future winner and takes the golf seriously enough to actually deserve it. But don’t mistake the quiet exterior for innocence — Jonny is the group’s silent assassin, patiently waiting for exactly the right moment to deliver a devastating one-liner before hobbling back into the shadows whilst holding his calf and his broken driver . Disciplined, dangerous and annoyingly sensible — the Stallion is coming.
Ste Skillings: Handicap 23
Ste is living proof that you don’t actually need to play golf to be dangerous at golf. A genuine man mountain who dusts the clubs off once a year for the VDL Cup, he operates on the simple philosophy that technique is optional when you can just hit the absolute shit out of the driver. Where the ball goes afterwards is largely somebody else’s problem. Off the course, however, Ste really comes into his own — a cracking singer and natural performer who’s never far from taking over the entertainment. Zero preparation, maximum horsepower and always capable of stealing the show — on the tee or on the mic.
Olly Lancashire: Handicap 14
The VDL Cup rookie who had to earn his place the hard way, Olly arrives for his first trip having survived a playoff match and already looking suspiciously like he belongs here. Cool, calm and collected both on and off the course, he also takes enormous pride in that beautifully low handicap — and will presumably find a way of mentioning it before we’ve even reached the first tee. To make matters worse, he’s a good-looking bastard as well, which feels unnecessarily greedy when combined with being decent at golf. No previous VDL scars, no emotional baggage and no idea what he’s actually signed up for — Olly has all the ingredients of a proper dark horse… although three nights with this lot should soon wipe that calm fucking smile off his face.
