Watching your partners fart about with their phone to check their texts on every tee is annoying but nowhere as bad as when they stop every five minutes to talk to their wife/girlfriend/pimp. This behaviour makes my blood boil, sees the red mist descend and threatens to bring out the latent serial killer tendencies that are buried deep within my walnut sized brain.

Seriously, can you think of anything more annoying than weighing up your next shot, selecting the right club, lining it up, calculating how much power to use, starting your back swing then hearing a tinny version of ‘Poker Face’ by Lady Gaga squawking across the fairway from your mates pocket? I don’t want to hear the strangled vocals of that camel faced bint at the best of times but when I’m about to take a shot it is like a red rag to a bull.
Using a mobile phone on the golf course should be as frowned upon as much as it is when driving but the punishment should be more severe – castration for example. Too much? Ok, how about an 18 shot penalty and buying a round of drinks for everyone in the group? People would ensure they left their phone in the car if they ruled themselves out of winning any of the weekly medals with added bonus of a £20 bar bill after each round.
I’m not a good golfer by any stretch of the imagination so the last thing I need is any distraction robbing me of what little concentration I can muster. Mobile phones are not only an annoyance but the switch that can turn me from a reasonable human being into a cup of full strength, quadruple caffeinated, piping hot crazy.
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