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

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

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 deserves whatever literary prizes are going.

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.

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.