As someone who has never had a hole-in-one, I can honestly say, entirely without prejudice, that I think such exploits are dreadfully vulgar and totally out of keeping with the ethos of the Royal and Ancient game. All this jumping up and down and sloshing of drink at the 19th is certainly not what the Honourable Company of Edinburgh golfers had in mind, when they framed the rules more than 200 years ago.

But, unfortunately, the things happen with monotonous frequency. And to make matters worse, they are being accompanied by insidious inducements which threaten the very fabric of golf club life.

How, for instance, is a self-respecting captain supposed to retain his dignity when he drives his 10-year-old Sierra into his designated place in the club car-park, passing some five-day member's £189,000 Lamborghini Diablo en route? And what about that lady associate's Porsche, which she took possession of simply because of being named by her husband as his chosen charity for a hole-in-one prize?

It is only against this background that we can understand the rather curious fact of the great Harry Vardon having had only one hole-in-one during a career spanning 50 years. And why Bobby Jones became a major figure in the game before getting his first ace. Clearly, they were highly suspicious of the practice.

I count myself among those who could identify far more closely with Seve Ballesteros when, on being asked how he four-putted a certain green, replied: "I miss. I miss. I miss. I make." So, whenever the urge comes upon me to qualify for the Hole-in-One Society, I allow the clubface to turn fractionally at impact with the result that I miss, I miss, I miss.

According to the Golfer's Handbook, 49 amateurs and professionals assembled at the Wanderers Club, Johannesburg in January 1951 and each played three balls at a 146-yard par-three. Of the 147 balls hit, the nearest was by professional, Koos de Beer, whose ball finished 10 1/2 inches from the hole.

Among the group was none other than the bould Harry Bradshaw, who was touring South Africa with a British team at the time. In the event, The Brad's second shot hit the pin but the ball rolled on and stopped three feet two inches from the cup.

In the same year, a competition on similar lines was held in New York where 1,409 players who had already achieved a hole-in-one, hit balls over several days at short holes on three local courses. Each player was permitted a total of five shots, giving an aggregate of 7,045 in all. Nobody holed in one, though one ball happened to finish three and a half inches from the target.

A further illustration of the element of luck in achieving aces, is the experience of Harry Gonder, an American professional who, in 1940, stood for 16 hours 25 minutes and hit 1,817 balls at a par three measuring 160 yards. He had two official witnesses and caddies to tee and retrieve the balls and count the strokes. In the event, his 1,756th shot struck the hole but stopped an inch away. That was the closest he came to success.

Based on this and similar information, an estimate of the odds against holing in one at any particular hole within the range of one shot, was set at somewhere between 1,500 and 2,000 to one, by a proficient player.

Later, however, statistical analysis in the US has produced the following odds: a male professional or top amateur - 3,708:1; a woman professional or top amateur - 4,648:1; an average golfer - 42,594:1.

As if to emphasise the extent to which luck plays a part, the hole-inone last Wednesday by journalist Derek Lawrenson (he of the Lamborghini) need not be considered in isolation. On the same day that he was bagging a Lamborghini in a Golf Classic at the Mill Ride club in Ascot, something utterly outrageous occurred on the other side of the Atlantic.

While trundling along a Massachusetts highway at a steady 30 mph in her modest Toyota, Nancy Bachand met up with Todd Obuchowski, in a manner of speaking. It happened as a consequence of a decidedly wayward shot struck by him at the Beaver Brook course in Haydenville.

The 34-year-old sheet-metal worker was enjoying a pleasant round when, from his tee-shot at the 116-yard fourth hole, his ball shot over the green and onto the road. In keeping with the tendency of golf balls to bounce quite a bit when coming into contact with hard surfaces, this particular pill ricocheted off the passenger side of Bachand's car before returning to the course where it rolled into the cup for a hole-in-one.

"I didn't know for sure until all these guys started shouting," said Obuchowski. The damage to the car worked out at $150. So, when defending his decision to accept his own prize, it was hardly surprising that Lawrenson should have mentioned this happening in his writings in The Sunday Telegraph. As he put it: "That sums up the whole business."

Lest we forget it, aces can be quite embarrassing. And one of the most unwelcome ones was achieved by Ray Evans, a Chicago policeman. Taking a half-day off work to pursue his favourite pastime, Evans left a message for his wife that he was doing some overtime. Unfortunately for him, he scored a hole-in-one that afternoon which made considerable mileage in the local newspaper the following morning. Apparently his wife was not amused.

And as if to prove that holes in one are not always the ecstatic happenings that most people imagine them to be, there was the case of the good Dr C Tucker. He it was who signed up for a hole-in-one tournament in New Orleans, took out his trusty iron and proceeded to hit his first shot into the hole.

On delightedly bringing the shot to the attention of the tournament director, he was gently advised that the tournament didn't start until the following week.

One of the most amazing holes in one, however, happened in Edinburgh way back in 1870. Playing the last hole of a match in rapidly gathering dusk, Robert Clarke was unable to see where his ball finished after hitting his tee-shot at the last hole. So he conceded the match. On returning to the course the following morning, he discovered the ball in the hole.

Bob Charles, the only left-hander to have captured the British Open, once wrote to a hosiery company: "Half an hour after donning a pair of your socks, I got a hole-in-one."

As I've attempted to make clear, I have deliberately avoided holes in one purely on aesthetic grounds. But other wretches have done it out of downright parsimony. Like a certain unnamed golfer from Long Island a few years ago.

It was the Fourth of July and the Engineers Club was so crowded that our friend estimated his bar bill would have been in the region of $2,500. So, he was horrified when he happened to have a hole-in-one in the company of some friends.

Admirably quick-thinking, however, he promptly declared his ball unplayable - well it would be, wouldn't it. He then hit another ball off the tee and scored a three on the hole instead. Despite the protests of his pals, he wouldn't be budged.

They say that nothing quite matches the thrill of watching a well-hit tee-shot of between 140 and 240 yards, fly as true as a smart bomb and make a direct hit on the target. They say that it can be described as a numbing ecstasy which only a gifted poet could adequately describe. Don't believe a word of it. If you ask me, them things is the work of the devil.