Biff and Buffy Play Golf

With my golf game improving slightly (very slightly), Buffy decided it would be a good idea to take the men out to play. Her husband Biff has been playing most of his life, so she thought it would be a fun thing to do. Nothing is fun at 8.20 a.m on a Sunday, but try telling that to Americans. Get up at 10 a.m. and you've missed so much of the day you may as well go straight back to bed.
The session began well. I bought a brand new shiny white golf glove. Apparently all real golfers wear one glove to help with their grip. Personally I'm losing grip of my grip, and even with the glove felt more like Michael Jackson that Tiger Woods. It also left me with a very lopsided suntan, with one white hand and one pale brown.
Ross doesn't know one end of a golf club from another, but that didn't stop him trying to tell me which club to use and how to hit it. If an expert like Biff had told me I wouldn't have minded, but with Ross on my case, the session did not go well.
"Which number club are you going to use here?" he asked
"Er, 34D?" I ventured.
Not amused.
"You need a 7 iron for this," knowledgeable in his own ignorance. "Like this".
The only iron I know about is the one I beat my clothes to death with once in a while.
"You could use a wood." He suggested at the start of the next hole.
I searched desperately through my collection for anything at all made of wood, until discovering that was another name for a driver, which is actually made of metal. This was not helping.
It also didn't help that despite never having played golf before, having to share a set of ladies' clubs and suffering from a nasty case of man flu, Ross still played better than I did.