Fat chance of a birdie

I really must get out more

I really must get out more. I hadn't been to a professional golf tournament since the Irish Open was at Killarney - the first year at Killarney, back in those innocent days so long ago when no one knew how Charles J. Haughey managed to live so well (my own theory, that he got up early and did a paper round to supplement his politician's pay, is apparently knocked on its head by the imminent McCracken report - there's a scoop for you and this isn't even a news page).

I kept meeting people I hadn't seen since I was in Killarney. Journalists, bank managers (thousands of those, was yesterday a bank holiday?), sundry types I used to play golf with.

Where have you been? I said. We've been out and about, around, here and there, they said. You haven't, they said. I really must get out more. I'd forgotten what a social occasion professional golf tournaments are. I'd forgotten how good professional golfers are and I'd forgotten how, well, glitzy, the golf tour is.

My own week-in, week-out contributions to the game of golf - as played in the European Open - are part of The Character Building Industry, an offshoot of the At Least It Gets You Out of The House And Doing A Bit of Exercise Industry. The game of golf, as played at the K Club in Co Kildare this week, is decidedly part of the Entertainment Industry.

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And I'd forgotten how big professional golfers are in real life. They're only about five inches tall on the TV in my studio (slightly larger on the TV in the sittingroom) but in real life they all seem bigger than me, even the little ones - and I'm two metres tall (six foot seven in old money). They are also more tanned than anyone else, totally wrinkle-free (both clothes and skin), have backs straighter than guardsmen with shiny shoes to match and they seem to float rather than stagger across the grass. Yes, they are Showbiz. Not Liam Gallagher showbiz, more Fred Astaire showbiz. Fred Astaire when he was alive and soft-shoe shuffling, that is.

And the K Club is a showbizzy sort of golf course - more American than Irish - beautifully manicured, shrubbed and treed. It looked really nice in the dull, showery weather of yesterday morning. It looks brilliant in the sunshine on the TV as I sit writing this stuff now, yesterday afternoon.

When not watching the stars and the chorus line on the fairways there are ample opportunities to merchandise. To merchandise is to shop for stuff with a logo or an endorsement. This is what sets golf apart from the rest of showbiz. For whereas few of us aspire to wearing Fred Astaire's pumps or playing a Gallagher brat's guitar, thousands of golfers reckon that with the right equipment, the same equipment, we could play as the pros do - not necessarily all the time, you understand, just now and again.

So there's a tented village where you can look at these things and, bizarrely, also get cut-glass engraved, buy a non-golfing book (How To Be A Cartoonist didn't seem to be selling well, thank goodness), get fashionable golf clothing in more colours than any non-drugged mind has the right to imagine, and sign up for a Visa card that seems to be such a good deal that it pays the monthly bill for you. You can also buy a single baked potato for £3 which must be one of the best deals ever (assuming you're the one selling the baked potatoes).

I had to cheat a little to get the low-down on the real merchandise. To an area near the practice ground where you need all sorts of badges to go, I went. I talked to some of the guys who tweak the shafts and bend the heads of the professionals - sorry, of the clubs of the professionals. They talked of torque, the bane of any decent golf-club shaft's existence. There's lots of torque in those graphite shafts that we have all bought, it seems, which is a Bad Thing. Less torque in steel shafts, which is a Good Thing. And even less in the new, just on the market, Fat Shafts, which is an Excellent Thing but also, probably, an Expensive Thing. So remember, you heard it here first - if you wanna be a good golfer Fat Shafts is what you need. When just fat is what you need to be a good golfer, I'll be quids in.

The Smurfit European Open is at the K Club, Straffan, Co Kildare, today, tomorrow and Sunday. Admission is: adults £20 a day; OAPs and 14-18-year-olds £10; under-13s free when accompanied by adults; park- ing is £2 a day.