Is there a more infuriating sport than golf?

Well, it turns out everything and here is why.

You pitch up on the first tee with a reasonably good feeling about your game and end up leaving the 18th stabbing the flag pole back into the hole, trudging off the green and muttering to yourself why you even bothered.

Of course, there are lot of events during the round which lead to that huge swing in emotions, hooked shots, wild slices, fat shots, thinned shots, missed putts and everything else in between.

After chopping up the fairway on the first few holes, you snatch a par at the next hole to give yourself that feeling of hope.

However, that is firmly extinguished at the next tee as you bring out the driver, send the ball further right than UKIP, shout fore and pray you haven’t hit some poor old man on the adjacent hole.

Once you realise you won’t be subject of a volley of abuse or even worse a law suit you notice your ball is nestled nicely down in the thick stuff and you proceed to thrash about until it apologetically comes out a few yards from the rough. You hit the next shot, a couple of putts later and walk off with a nine.

As any golfer will tell you are only as good as your last hole so I guess I’ll just have to stick to the day job for now.

Spare a thought though for professional Clifton McDonald who carded an eye-watering 127 last month at Silver Lakes in Glencoe, Alabama in a US Open local qualifying tournament. To be fair to him he didn’t even walk in early.

Whoever invented this sport must have been a sadistic so and so.