Sleazy Tiger's nomination for 'Man of the Year'

This is an approved message from the Office of Sleazy Tiger:

As all of the readers of this Blog will know, Sleazy Tiger is the King of all that is immoral. He is the Sheikh of Swearing, the President of Promiscuity, the Rajah of Rampaging and the Dean of Drugs. ST's position in these areas has never been challenged and never will. Like a tenured professor, he bestrides his chosen arena like a God. However, and unlike a tenured professor, this Lord of Lechery occasionally recognises and praises lower mortals who have done not-so-great deeds.

Of recent, Sleazy Tiger's attention has been drawn to one such man: a well known man, a rich man, and clearly a distant relation of our own ST.

That's right, it's Sleazy Tiger-Woods.

Until the last few weeks, Woods was considered by ST to be pathetic, contemptible even. He was the kind of goody-goody golden boy who'd never tried a joint, never nicked a chocolate bar from a shop, never tied a Malaysian Ladyboy to a rock and whipped them till they died. However, when Woods managed to forget his driving lessons and hit not just a tree but also a fire hydrant whilst reversing (a feat only bettered by Evil Joe who managed to take out an entire school of orphans whilst in neutral) the lurid stories that followed caused him to quickly climb in ST's regard.

First he lied to Police. Did anyone, ANYONE, in the world anywhere really believe the official line that his wife was trying to rescue him by breaking that rear window with that golf club? Golf Clubs are useful for two things only:

A)as an excuse to get away from your significant other.
B)and being used by your significant other to beat you senseless when she finds out what you were really doing when you were out 'golfing'.

So STW had started sticking it to the man. This impressed ST. But then he kicked it up a notch. Mistresses Tiger thought he'd lined up, putted and then left in a hole covered in Tiger-Love started crawling out into the light of day. At the last count STW was nearing a double figure round of cheating*. This tickled ST so much that he sent STW a congratulatory telegram. In the form of a hooker with 'Way to go you son-of-a-bitch' tattooed in a personal area that a frisky Tiger would surely discover.

[*ST is however distinctly disappointed that so far none of these floozies fits the 'Hugh Grant Theorem.' This states that any celebrity that could have any sexual partner in the world will voluntarily sleep someone who wouldn't get nailed in the world's worst-looking bar with a five drink head start and an entire Tesco's worth of paper bags over their head.]

So Tiger Woods is dead, long live Sleazy Tiger-Woods. But what does this mean for the philandering golfer? Well, his sponsors are deserting him like alcoholics from an AA meeting. But ST feels that when one door closes, another opens. And whilst that door for ST is generally one to a brothel, for STW it may just be an opportunity.

Picture the scene. Tiger is lining up a long putt for the win on the 18th. Suddenly, his eye is caught by an attractive female marshall, who draws him out of shot into the long rough off the fairway. The crowd begins an appreciative murmur, a rising crescendo punctuated by occasional shouts of 'GET IN THE HOLE!' Suddenly, the masses go wild. STW strides out of the grass, zipping his fly with one hand and acknowledging the crowd with the other. His ball lies unnoticed and unmolested on the green. The picture fades to black and the simple message is left:


'Just Do Her'


This has been a message of support for Sleazy Tiger-Woods. When no one else will stand beside you, Sleazy Tiger will do. Though he may pick your pocket at the same time.