Balls to Golf

Golf winds me up. Don't get me wrong, I've nothing really against golfers. In fact some of my best friends are golfers. I even tried it myself once. I recall on my first hole I almost got a birdie but it was clearly beginners luck as for the rest of the round I scored nothing but ugly ducklings and dead dodos.

I do find golf a bore but that's not why it winds me up. It's not even the exclusive 'club' mentality of the sport that gets my goat. No, golf winds me up because it rapes vast areas of wild natural beauty and turns them into manicured lawn towns of leather-gloved leisure.

There's an ancient hill in Gloucestershire called Cleeve Hill (the highest point in the Cotswolds don't you know?) I had the pleasure of walking a few years back. A pleasure until I suddenly had to dive onto a thistle bush to duck a golf ball – someone had only gone and put a ruddy golf course all over it.

Today a walk through a nature reserve near Leamington Spa again has me suddenly ducking and diving as I stroll across holes 14 and 15. I came here to see badgers, dragonflies and moorhens not Keith and Julian discussing the stock exchange and holidays in Mauritius whilst launching rock hard balls at my head.

Let's take back the land off the golfing gentry and return it to the wild. Ban golf in the outdoors and make it strictly a virtual reality sport that people can play in their homes with Wee Wees or whatever they're called.