The cruel irony of the Masters is that nothing will make you want to play in the Masters like watching the Masters. For 99.9% of us, that is an unattainable dream – an agonising flirtation we must endure each and every April.

This year, however, a few young whipper snappers decided to shoot their shot, calling up Augusta National in the middle of Thursday’s opening round to see if they could score a tee time.

“I’m just giving a ring,” says the wanna-be Jerky Boy in the green shirt. “Me and the buddies are sitting here and we’re thinking what a better day than Thursday to go out and play a quick 18? You guys got carts?”

The woman on the phone, pulled away from a million actual tasks on one of the busiest days of the year to answer a prank call from a bunch of bored kids on spring break sitting in their mum’s basement, patiently responds, telling them that it’s a private club.

When they reply that they’re members and ask “is there something going on today that we’re missing?,” she gets wise to ruse and hangs up.

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“What a rude course,” says the prank caller, before seemingly calling the woman a series of obscenities, snuffing out any remaining humour in the bit.

Whether or not you find this funny has a lot to do with your age (are you 12 or older? Have you played ‘Halo’ in the last five years?) and whether you’ve ever worked a shitty service job where insecure teenagers treat you like dirt to make their own fragile place in the social ecosystem feel more secure.

But we feel pretty confident saying you don’t want to be this guy. Enjoy the Masters on TV this weekend. Go out and play 18 at your local course if you get the itch. Treat everybody with respect and, whatever you do, don’t ask if their refrigerator is running.