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of golf. I arrived there around 8.30 in the morning. Now it was the middle of the week and there were no more than six people in total on the course. I presented myself to the caddy master and indicated that I wanted to play on the ‘secondary course’.He said: ‘I’m sorry, sir, but there are no single golfers allowed on the ‘secondary course’ before 10am.’I said, ‘You’ve got to be kidding, there’s no-one here. That rule has to apply to the weekend when there’s demand.’‘I’m sorry, sir. That’s’ the rule. No single golfers are allowed before 10am.’I was furious.He then said: ‘I’ll tell you what. I’ll let you play on the “primary course”.’Great news — until he asked for my handicap certificate.‘I don’t carry a handicap certificate around with me!’‘I’m sorry Sir, but no-one is allowed to play on the ‘primary course’ without presenting a handicap certificate.’My temper was not improving: ‘I’m a paying member of this club. I pay money for the privilege of having access to these courses.‘I’m sorry Sir, those are the rules.’He wouldn’t let me play. I couldn’t believe it. In the end, I kicked up such a fuss that they changed the rules to something more sensible — but that’s what they are like.I don’t know why I bothered, though. When I finally did get to play there, I finished my round and walked into the bar. Everyone looked like Dennis T

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hatcher. I just thought: ‘What am I doing here?’In the main clubhouse I managed to break several rules. I was told off for smoking in the Members’ Dining Room before 6.30pm. It was about 6.15pm. I was told off for having my briefcase in the Gentleman’s Smoking Room. Potential business could only be conducted in certain rooms on the second floor. A colleague of mine and I were told off for talking in the Turkish Bath. A lady friend of mine was told off for getting her laptop out in the dining room (and not the fancy one either) over breakfast. One day a porter chased me out of the Ladies’ Drawing Room for being in there without having the company of a lady.This led to an amusing incident a couple of days later. I had gone to a club in Soho called Madame JoJo’s, a review bar which featured performers who historically have been described by a neologism formed of two Latin words, one meaning cross and one meaning clothes which apparently is some sort of banned trigger word were I to use the actual English. The next day I was in my club and the same porter was on duty.I knew he knew what Madame JoJo’s was, so I said to him: ‘I was in Madame JoJo’s last night. If I bring one of those ‘ladies’ round here, can I go into the ladies drawing room?’An older gentleman standing nearby clearly didn’t have a clue what I was really talking about: ‘Oh and will you bring one for me too?’ he asked.I turned to him and said: ‘I’ll do just that’.</article></body>

A Few Observations on Private Clubs in Britain

Why the Brits just can’t stop themselves from irritating one another by making up pointless and annoying rules in pursuit of their obsession with creating exclusive social groups.

Although this is somewhat out of time as it happened a while ago and is not strictly current, I should like to elaborate on the British love for irritating rules that serve the principal purpose of annoying the paying members of their own clubs. Why they do this is beyond me, and beyond every American. The only reason that I can possibly think of is to try to create a sense of the club being exclusive and so the members will know what is ‘done’ and what is not. However, this is absurd because as a members’ club it is already exclusive so that it is unnecessary to create another layer of what is almost a form of occultism. A secret handshake would do just as well. So really the only reason they do it is because they can’t help themselves. They have some genetic pre-disposition to create irritating rules when there is no need to.

I belong to a club in London. It is magnificent. It also has two 18-hole golf courses in the countryside outside London. One day I flew into Heathrow arriving at 6.30am on a Wednesday morning and went straight to the golf course for a round of golf. I arrived there around 8.30 in the morning. Now it was the middle of the week and there were no more than six people in total on the course. I presented myself to the caddy master and indicated that I wanted to play on the ‘secondary course’.

He said: ‘I’m sorry, sir, but there are no single golfers allowed on the ‘secondary course’ before 10am.’

I said, ‘You’ve got to be kidding, there’s no-one here. That rule has to apply to the weekend when there’s demand.’

‘I’m sorry, sir. That’s’ the rule. No single golfers are allowed before 10am.’

I was furious.

He then said: ‘I’ll tell you what. I’ll let you play on the “primary course”.’

Great news — until he asked for my handicap certificate.

‘I don’t carry a handicap certificate around with me!’

‘I’m sorry Sir, but no-one is allowed to play on the ‘primary course’ without presenting a handicap certificate.’

My temper was not improving: ‘I’m a paying member of this club. I pay money for the privilege of having access to these courses.

‘I’m sorry Sir, those are the rules.’

He wouldn’t let me play. I couldn’t believe it. In the end, I kicked up such a fuss that they changed the rules to something more sensible — but that’s what they are like.

I don’t know why I bothered, though. When I finally did get to play there, I finished my round and walked into the bar. Everyone looked like Dennis Thatcher. I just thought: ‘What am I doing here?’

In the main clubhouse I managed to break several rules. I was told off for smoking in the Members’ Dining Room before 6.30pm. It was about 6.15pm. I was told off for having my briefcase in the Gentleman’s Smoking Room. Potential business could only be conducted in certain rooms on the second floor. A colleague of mine and I were told off for talking in the Turkish Bath. A lady friend of mine was told off for getting her laptop out in the dining room (and not the fancy one either) over breakfast. One day a porter chased me out of the Ladies’ Drawing Room for being in there without having the company of a lady.

This led to an amusing incident a couple of days later. I had gone to a club in Soho called Madame JoJo’s, a review bar which featured performers who historically have been described by a neologism formed of two Latin words, one meaning cross and one meaning clothes which apparently is some sort of banned trigger word were I to use the actual English. The next day I was in my club and the same porter was on duty.

I knew he knew what Madame JoJo’s was, so I said to him: ‘I was in Madame JoJo’s last night. If I bring one of those ‘ladies’ round here, can I go into the ladies drawing room?’

An older gentleman standing nearby clearly didn’t have a clue what I was really talking about: ‘Oh and will you bring one for me too?’ he asked.

I turned to him and said: ‘I’ll do just that’.