Hitting the clubhouse from three miles away

On the run up to Christmas back in 1898, an admirably adventurous golfer named Freddie Tait, no doubt full of seasonal cheer, took on a rather interesting wager. He backed himself to play a gutta percha ball in 40 teed strokes from the clubhouse of Royal St George's, Sandwich to the Cinque Ports club at Deal. And he would "hole out" by hitting any part of the Deal clubhouse, a distance of three miles as the crow flies. We are informed that the redoubtable Tait reached the target with his 32nd shot, which was so accurate as to send the ball sailing through a clubhouse window. But it landed him in some difficulty. In fact his winnings were reduced appreciably by compensation to a serving maid who was cleaning silver when the final shot entered the building, sending her into hysterics.

Golf literature abounds with seasonal tales of the unexpected. Like the occasion in December 1864 when Old Tom Morris and fellow professional Charlie Hunter set off at Prestwick at the ungodly hour of 11.0 p.m. with two amateurs, a Major Crichton and a French-Canadian dentist named Knowles.

Prestwick then comprised 12 holes, which they completed by 1.30 a.m. In the process, however, they were forced to play in complete darkness when the moon failed to make its anticipated appearance. Remarkably, only two balls were lost. Meanwhile, the growing popularity of golf in the early decades of the last century, meant that pantomine wasn't the only entertainment at this time of year. Which explains the rather curious accident which befell a member of the audience at the Vaudeville Theatre, London in 1927, when Norman Griffin was swinging a golf club in a sketch quaintly titled I do look a lad in plus fours.

In the event, the head parted company with the shaft and sailed into the auditorium where it struck the forehead of an Eton schoolboy named Tait - no relation of the aforementioned Freddie - who was sitting in the circle. In the company of his father, mother and brother, the lad was taken to Charing Cross Hospital where the wound was dressed. But they were back in the theatre in about 20 minutes, whereupon a stoic Master Tait expressed disappointment at missing part of the performance.

Finally, if you are a trifle uneasy about giving Christmas gift of a book with a weighty title like The Second Creation: The Age of Biological Control by the Scientists who created Dolly, be not discouraged. In one of his hilarious golf stories, Sleepy Time, PG Wodehouse informed us of a book by Professor Pepperidge Farmer, titled Hypnotism as a Device to Uncover the Unconscious Drives and Mechanism in an Effort to Analyse the Functions Involved which gives Rise to Emotional Conflicts in the Waking State.

Wodehouse went on to explain, however, that it was being changed to Sleepy Time, which, apparently, the author considered snappier. As well he might.

"If you built a house next to a railroad track, would you expect the trains to stop?"

Florida pig farmer Paul Thompson, successfully defending a suit taken by a neighbouring golf club which objected to the smell and the soothing, country music he was playing to the animals over loudspeakers.