Golf and humour are strange bedfellows. Think about it. How many times do you see Colin Montgomerie smile during a round? Once or twice, maybe. Or, for that matter, has Davis Love ever smiled while playing. Perhaps he made an exception when he won the USPGA a couple of years ago.

Nope, for the most part, professional golf is a serious business. Too much at stake to really have fun. And, no doubt, Sergio Garcia will learn that before he gets out of his teens. Only kidding. Here's hoping the kid keeps that innocence-of-youth smile on his face if not all the time, at least most of the time.

And, yet, the fact that even the high-handicap club golfer takes his or her golf so seriously is one of the reasons why a whole catalogue of jokes has evolved around the sport. If most of us can't laugh on the course, at least we can split our sides when "playing" the 19th.

Indeed, a plethora of categories have been created. Religion and golf. Golfing widows . . . . and increasingly golfing widowers. Death and golf. Rules and golf. Sex and golf. And on and on. Nothing is sacred from reminding us that, ultimately, we're supposed to enjoy lugging a bag around a course for four hours.

Some of the game's greats are reputed to have come up with the best one-liners. True or not, Lee Trevino is credited with the remark: "When I'm on a golf course, and it starts to rain and thunder and lightning, I hold up my one-iron because I know even God can't hit a one-iron."

Another one-liner attributed to Trevino has been going around in many different variations. "You don't know what golf is until you have played for five dollars a hole with only two in your pocket," he is reputed to have said. Change dollars for pounds, yen or shekels and golfers everywhere can empathise. Or Gary Player's tip to aspiring young professionals: "The harder I work, the luckier I get."

Then there are the golf laws. Law One: "No matter how bad your last shot was, the worst is yet to come." Or Law Six: "The higher a golfer's handicap, the more qualified he deems himself as an instructor." Or how about Law 19: "Golf should be given up at least twice a month." Such comments have a ring of truth about them, but most of the really good jokes stretch things a bit. Like telling everyone you holed a 40-footer for birdie when it was really a 10-footer. And, for some reason, religion and death tend to creep in to many of the better jokes.

Certainly, St Peter seems to keep an eye on what happens on the golf course . . . . and here are a couple of examples of his saintly interest.

Cursed

One day a golfer arrived in heaven and St Peter met him at the gate. "We usually don't get golfers here, you know, they curse too much," said Peter.

"I've only taken the Lord's name in vain once, sir," said the golfer.

"Tell me about it," said Peter.

"Well, I hit my tee shot badly and hooked it into the trees."

". . . . and that's when you took the Lord's name in vain?" St Peter asked.

"No, the ball hit a tree and rebounded out to the centre of the fairway, but it ended up in a bunker," replied the golfer.

". . . . and that's when you took the Lord's name in vain?" inquired St Peter.

"No, I hit a great bunker shot but it caught a branch and fell 20 yards short of the green

"And that's when you . . . ?"

"No," said the golfer, "I then chipped to six inches."

"Godammit, don't tell me you missed a six-inch putt!"

Sickening Ace

Fr Murphy woke up one Sunday morning and, realising it was a beautiful sunny day, decided he just had to play golf. So, he told the parish priest that he was feeling sick and convinced him to say Mass for him that day. As soon as the parish priest left the room, Fr Murphy headed off out of the village to a golf course 30 miles away.

This way, he knew he wouldn't accidentally meet anyone he knew from his parish. Setting up on first tee, he was alone. After all, it was Sunday morning and everyone else was in church.

At about this time, St Peter looked over at God and exclaimed: "You're not going to let him get away with this, are you?"

God sighed, and said: "No, I suppose not."

Just then, Fr Murphy hit the ball and it shot straight towards the flag, dropped just short, rolled up and fell into the hole for a 220-yard hole-in- one.

St Peter was astonished, looked at God and asked: "Why did you let him do that?"

God smiled, and replied: "Who is he going to tell?"

Life And Death

There are, of course, plenty of jokes about life and death. One of the most repeated - in many different versions - concerns the case of Paddy Maguire.

Dame Fortune was seldom kind to the old man. Although Paddy had a zest for life, he was constantly beset by bad luck. He loved poker, but poker didn't love him. He played the stock market with vigour but always seemed to be the one who bought high and sold low.

But his greatest delight was his weekly round of golf.

Not that Paddy was a great golfer. Far from it, in fact, and he never managed to break 100. But the odd shot that somehow ended up in the general area he had in mind was enough to keep his hopes alive. Finally, Paddy became ill and passed away. But, just before he died, he asked that his remains be cremated and scattered just off the fairway on the ninth hole. Duly, a gathering of his friends and clubmates assembled to carry out Paddy's wishes. It was a bright sunny day and all was going well. Then, just as the ashes were being strewn . . . . a gust of wind came up, and blew Paddy out of bounds.

What A Drag

And, then, there was the time that Steve was questioned about how his round went.

He replied: "It was fine until Bill had a heart attack and died on the 18th tee box."

The men in the clubhouse responded: "That must have been terrible."

To which Steve replied: "You bet it was . . . hit the ball, drag Bill . . . hit the ball, drag Bill. It took me 40 minutes to play the last hole!"

Truth Hurts

And, finally, just to prove that it doesn't always pay to tell the truth.

Mary warned Mick as he left early for the club, "don't be late home, we're due at the Armstrongs for a barbecue at six, and we can't be late again."

Well, Mick finished his game in plenty of time and was leisurely driving home when he saw a woman in distress at the side of the road. Ever the gentleman, he stopped to see if he could help. She had a blown tyre which ultimately Mick was able to change.

"Thank you so much," said the young lady, "but you are now so dirty would you care to come back to my flat to clean up. I live just around the corner."

Mick checked his watch and it was only three o'clock and he was rather filthy, so he thanked her and accepted. When he came out of the bathroom, the young woman offered Mick a glass of wine. "The least I can do," she said. One glass turned to another and, finally, the two ended up in bed!

When Mick woke up he was horrified to see it was 5.45. No way could he get home by six and when he finally got to his house 30 minutes later he was met by an irate Mary. Mick, who had never lapsed in his life, decided he could only apologise and proceeded to tell his wife the entire story, start to inevitable finish.

"You bloody liar," yelled Mary, "you played another nine holes!!!"