Not a call but......
Firstly, I'd better set the seen. For those of you from overseas that have played links golf, you know just how windy it can get. So, it's a VERY windy day in the school holidays when I'm maybe 14 years old or so. It's about 10 in the morning and I'm making my way to the golf club for the day and, just as I get near the club, I see my friend desperately trying to pedal some horrendous looking old bicycle straight into a gale along the sea front. I stop to wait for him for a minute as he struggles to not move backwards and eventually, looking furious, he makes it to where I'm waiting.
Now, I happen to know that he's been doing a bit of work in the Pro Shop and wonder what could have happened for him to be away from the shop and battling the wind on this contraption. Anyway, he explains to me that the guys in the shop were most definitely mistaken because the hardware store two miles away most definitely does not stock tartan paint. Completely unaware that he has been set up, he goes on to explain to me that he doesn't mind running errands but is angry that they've clearly sent him to the wrong place as even when asking for Jock, as instructed, the assistant was quite certain that nobody of that name worked there.
By this point I was simply unable to contain my laughter and explained to him the extend of his stupidity. Now this friend was known to have a temper and, despite being a mere 15 years old, was at least going to attempt to be a tough man about this. Of course, that presents a problem when you're not actually a man and, upon returning to the Pro Shop, his angry complaints were met, for an entire summer, with nothing but delirious laughter. Very occasionally I bump in to him and, to this day, I enquire about tartan paint supplies.