Sunday 17th February dawns bright, but cold and very frosty and 7 Muffins assemble at 08:15am. Brett is wearing his entire wardrobe and even the Fat-Boy has got a couple of layers on, which start chaffing his nipples by the 7th. 

Fat-Boy tosses up the taters on the 1st tee but the frozen ground sees them bounce high in the air. The result is that Fat-Boy, Nance and Mr. Grumpy will take on Turbo, Brett, DJ and Tate. 

With the greens hard as granite any approach shot landing on the dance floor careers 20 yards through the back. Anything played too cleverly gathers a load of snow and stops short. It's a lottery. 

As an example, the ideal landing spot on the 5th is actually in the stream, a strategy that both Nance and Tate employ marvellously. Tate at least then chips in for his par 3. 

For the 3 ball, Mr. Grumpy plays well for 17 points at the turn, but then falls apart like a Chinese motorcycle and adds only 9 points on the back. Fortunately the Fat-Boy steps up and turns a first nine 12 points into a total of 32 for joint 1st individual place with Brett. 

Nance considers himself particularly unlucky. Apparently his 6's on both the 16th and 17th don't contain a bad shot. (That's apart from the drive that hits a tree, the pushed 2nd, the fat wedge, the crap chip, the thinned bunker shot and the putts that roll 5 feet past). 

Aided by a useful 31 points from Turbo the 4-Ball take the match with the 9's shared although, in true Muffins style, the scorecards seem to be no more than a rough approximation of what actually occured. 

Camels-wise Brett collects a bakers dozen whilst Mr. Grumpy mistakenly assumes that the 18th green has defrosted enough to accept a beautifully struck 53 degree wedge to its heart. It hasn't and it doesn't. The ball bounces through into the back bunker whereupon a disconsolate Mr. Grumpy leaves it in to collect 12. There is no God - it's official.