YOUR ARGUS scribe would like to begin by thanking the Newport County fan who amused me no-end on Thursday.

I found myself outside the splendid Twenty Ten Clubhouse with Celtic Manor guests for the day Justin Edinburgh, Jimmy Dack, Wayne Hatswell and Adam Roche.

After a quick grilling on loan plans and other titbits from Rodney Parade, the fan came over and interrupted and the conversation was simply magnificent.

After being asked by Jimmy Dack if he enjoyed the game at the weekend, the fans responded by telling the county management team that: “No, I didn’t see it. I’ve really gone off football in the last few months.”

How do you respond to that?

This diary has often focused on all things Spanish with Miguel Angel Jimenez, golf’s coolest man, often featuring for his cigar smoking and general ‘too cool for school’ demeanour.

However, this week Spain has caught my attention again, but the player in question definitely hasn’t been what David Brent would refer to as a chilled out entertainer.

The player in question is Álvaro Quirós, the six-time European Tour winner who has endured a rough couple of years in terms of form and it wouldn't get better for him in Newport.

He was paired with Phil Price and Price confirmed after round one that Quirós had found things tough and “spent a lot of the round saying some of the bad Spanish words I’ve picked up over the years.”

And after effing and blinding for five hours, Quirós was immediately whisked away to take a random drug test.

Things didn’t improve in round two and when he reached eight over par, Quirós withdraw due to a tennis elbow injury that probably explains all the swearing.

The Little Bulmore Farmhouse at the Celtic Manor, the 400-year old listing building that sits adjacent to the Twenty Clubhouse and overlooks the 18th green, isn’t often accused of being useful.

Sir Terry Matthews tried and failed to have it demolished ahead of the Ryder Cup and the general view at the resort is and always has been that it is nothing more than an eyesore. Until now.

With the scorecard tent moved adjacent to it to make way for the new hospitality pavilion, the media who wait patiently for players after their rounds have finally made good use of the derelict building.

The role? A simple one. There are three window holes in the wall facing the scoring tent and the game is to successfully throw an acorn through the gap.

Further proof that most of us sports journalists have all the maturity of 12-year old kids.