It’s funny how inspiration strikes – and when. And where. I was at dinner the other night at my mate Duff’s place, and the top button of my shirt kept popping open, revealing the doormat that is my chest hair. If you have a picture of Steve Austin, the Six Million Dollar Man in your head, you’d be close, but without the cheesy sound effects. Or Dennis Lillee – he had a great shaggy fleece, didn’t he? Every time I would do the button up, it’d come undone; must have happened five times. Eventually, I just left my linen shirt sit open, something Duff’s wife Sophie found distasteful.  “You need a chain,” she said. “If you’re going to dress like some D-grade ‘70s heart-throb, you may as well do it properly.”

She returned with an amulet. It’s like a pendant on steroids, only more beautiful. And heavy. I felt like a ‘90s rapper rocking a ‘70s look. Everyone laughed, but in the end, when the night was over, it was me having the longest chuckle.

You see, I often get up from a seated position and launch straight into a putting position. It’s a perfect transition. And as I did so on this night, I noted how the amulet was hanging from my neck. I believe this is called an epiphany. Luckily, I often have them so I wasn’t too concerned. But this was a big one.

The amulet, that I’ll be marketing in the near future as the (patent pending) golf training aid, “The Andrewlet,” was hanging free of my hairy torso. As I assumed the putting position, it was off the skin, off the chest rug, and off everything. It was like a template or a measuring device of where my head should be in relation to the rest of my body when putting.

We’re talking copybook position here – Butch Harmon kinda stuff.

So, I went to the bedroom and grabbed the golf bag and brought it into the bathroom. This is where it gets a little weird, so buckle up…

With my shirt off and after a gentle combing of the chest hair, I grabbed my putter and assumed the position. Impressive – my hypothesis was actually correct. The Andrewlet did hang straight down and the putting position was pretty perfect.

I surmised that if I were to wear The Andrewlet on course, I could never get myself in the wrong position when putting.

But even better, during a very surreal, semi-naked 90 minutes in the bathroom with my golf clubs, I worked out the basic ideology of The Andrewlet was not just applicable to putting, but the whole dang golf bag!

Andrew Daddo

Basically, it works like this, and I think the diagrams [above] will be helpful. When the (patent pending) golf training aid, The Andrewlet, is released, we will of course, buff up the drawings. But for now, they’re serviceable at the very least.

For putting, let The Andrewlet swing freely away from the chest’s mane.

For wedges, have the The Andrewlet just touching the longer, more prominent outer hairs of the chest.

For mid-irons, you really want to get that bad boy deep in the jungle, almost tangled.

And for your woods, feel the weight of it on your flesh.

By following the simple – yet foolproof – steps, any golfer can assume the perfect posture and give themselves a chance of hitting a decent golf shot. And not just that, you’re going to look pretty fantastic while you’re doing it.

I was a little nervous that it was for men only, but women – or men with hairless chests like women – can purchase, for a nominal fee, the (patent-pending) stick-on chest hair, which attaches to the back of The Andrewlet.

I know; awesome, right? I almost wish I had no chest hair so I could use the attachment, but then, for some reason, God smiled on me and I get to use The Andrewlet au naturel.

Available soon, for enquiries, please contact the editor of this fine publication.