PETER THOMAS

Weblog:  Wandering the world wide web

Hoping Zachary will be wearing the trousers

I'M sitting here watching the Masters and loving it. My only experience of playing golf is one round on a municipal nine-hole course in the badlands of urban north Wales - where I might as well have been playing with a chicken leg as a pitching wedge - and I wouldn't open my curtains to watch your average tournament if it were being played in my back garden, but a Major, like any great sporting event, is unmissable sport and unmissable telly.

I've always marvelled at the skill of the top golf practitioners, most especially Jack Nicklaus, Tiger Woods and the legendary Jeremy Chapman, whose selections in the Racing Post seem to be monumentally successful, and a source of great entertainment, even though for me they are strictly a spectator sport. I've never got into golf betting, despite the enticement of the Chapman money-spinning machine, but this week I've delved into his bag of tips and had a few quid on P Harrington and Z Johnson.

I know I should have had 0.5pts e.w. on a few and 0.75pts e.w. on a few others, but I'm a golfing muppet and I've waded in with no real strategy or science, just hoping for either the Pod Man or red-trousered Zachary to give me a few days' involvement. Red trousers are a big shout, aren't they? If you play well in red trousers, you're a great golfer with matchless confidence, but if you play like a git, you're just a git in red trousers.

I had a pair of snakeskin trousers once, although in my defence I'd have to say that was the best part of 30 years and 3st ago, in the golden post-punk years. I doubt very much that I could have won a golf tournament while wearing them, although I did manage to walk home in them once without falling over.

And they slag off Ian Poulter for wearing Union Jack strides. The man's a sartorial pussycat compared to me at my peak.