Did you miss me? I’m back, like a bad smell, ready once again to spill righteous invective over your morning bacon sandwich.
Much has happened since I’ve been away. St Andrews released a statement, because a singer turned up at the Old Course wearing a hoodie.
Rounds seem to be taking even longer than ever. It surely won’t be long before they start passing six hours in the majors, but the recent medal at my club didn’t seem that far behind.
At this rate we’ll be spending all day on the course, like they do in Japan, but without sitting down to a nice lunch at halfway.
And handicaps? Well, that’s an article – or 200 if you’re the editor of this website – all of its own.
But just because I haven’t been typing, doesn’t mean I haven’t been watching. It’s been quite the year for irritations and the capacity of golf club members to annoy me appears limitless.
Like it or not, you’re going to be hearing quite a bit from me again over the coming months. But to whet your appetite, here are five people who would do their best to just stay out of my way when I’m down at the club. Love it, or hate it, just don’t deny it…
The one who hogs the practice net
I only want to hit a couple of shots – you know, a little loosener before I head out into battle. But this dude’s going through the bag.
They’ve been there for 20 minutes and haven’t moved on from their wedges. Like a group trying to avoid slow play, they’re tunnel-visioned too. You could politely ask them if they wouldn’t mind stepping aside – even delivering the missive through a megaphone – and they wouldn’t take their eyes off the battered Spalding they’re firing into the netting.
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And, no, I don’t want to pay for the range. It’s a fiver for 20 balls. Do I look like I want to take out a mortgage?
The leaderboard watcher
I’ve barely got the trolley out of the back of the car and this one’s right on my shoulder. ‘Have you seen what’s leading? Not much point in bothering…’
I try to avoid the clubhouse leaderboard. Principally because I want to concentrate on my own game, not start spitting feathers before I’ve even stepped foot on the practice putting green about the 47 points which is leading the field and that I can’t possibly get anywhere near.
I know you think it’s a scandal. I do too. But let’s get unreasonably cross about it after I’ve played out of my boots and grafted my way to 34 points.
The one who doesn’t know they’re slow
First up against the wall when the revolution comes, this one makes some well-known tour players look like Usain Bolt. When they get over the ball it’s like they are frozen in time. They’re motionless over a 12-incher, and comatose off the tee.
But time hasn’t stopped. They’re just incapable of pulling the trigger. And that’s not all. If they can put their stuff in the wrong spot they will, simply prolonging the agony as they meander between their shots and their bag.
What’s worse is they’ve got absolutely no idea they’re holding up the rest of the golf course. In their head, they’re practically playing Speed Golf.
If there is the hint of a delay in front of them (as incredible as that would be), they’ll bitch like they’ve got somewhere urgent they need to be. Yes, we all have. Somebody just tell them.
The adder-upper
I shot 52 on the front. I know it, and so does this one. They can’t wait to tell you too, with a little smirk appearing at the side of their mouth as they approach you on the 10th tee and ask you to confirm the disaster of the last two hours.
Never mind it’s a medal, and you can just add it all up at the end and subtract. This is about reminding you of your place and getting your back 9 off to the worst possible start.
The pint watcher
Unequivocally the worst person in the world. They raced off after you shook hands on the last and have been stalking around the clubhouse for the last quarter of an hour.
What they’ve been up to, as you loaded up the boot, no one knows. But they’ve been lying in wait. Like an expert predator. As soon as you step to the bar, they pounce.
Suddenly they’re on your shoulder, all puppy dog eyes, waiting for you to offer to buy them a drink.
You know what’s coming, but you can’t resist. You certainly don’t want to look cheap in front of the rest of the clubhouse.
But you should fight fire with fire. Because you can’t expect anything in return.
As soon as they’ve supped your generosity, they’ll be out of their seat, muttering their goodbyes, and off to their car.
They’ve got to get back for the other half, the dog, the cat, fixing the bathroom, or anything else that means they don’t have to get their wallet out. It’s not just cheap. It should be criminal.
Now have your say
What do you think? Do you agree with the Angry Club Golfer? Are there any characters you would add to this gallery of despicable characters? Let us know in the comments, or get in touch on X.
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