Stafford’s greatness is that he has found a way to combine perfected modulated, gentle whimsy with an innocently artless yet compelling storyline, to produce expertise and seemingly endless insights into his subject. The result is magical. Imagine Jerome K Jerome writing about golf, or recall PG Wodehouse doing so, and you have a pretty accurate picture of Stafford’s style. Like Wodehouse’s, and unlike that of modern comic writers like Bill Bryson and Pete McCarthy, his humour appears entirely natural and effortless. This is a beautifully written and genuinely funny book.

Stafford’s strength is his nerve… in this book he demonstrates the zeal of a missionary, which makes the text easy and enjoyable… it is a happy mixture of his known reporting skills, humour and willingness to travel the world. It is as fresh as a lick of paint.

Stafford deserves whatever literary prizes are going.

Stafford’s indomitability, his chutzpah, his lunatic hubris, inspires a kind of incredulous sympathy.

Stafford is a funny, engaging writer… you thrill to his every minor triumph.

Only a writer who is really skilled at putting his foot in the door could dream up a book about learning to play golf and meeting all the top players at the same time. An enjoyable read.

Required reading for armchair fans everywhere.