The Hacker: They don't like it up 'em...

Old golfers never die, they just clog up the courses. Thankfully, few of the younger fraternity complain much about this, because everyone is comforted by the knowledge that the game can be played well into your dotage.

Old golfers never die, they just clog up the courses. Thankfully, few of the younger fraternity complain much about this, because everyone is comforted by the knowledge that the game can be played well into your dotage.

Golf was always capable of prolonging active life, but during the last couple of decades the golfing life-span has been further increased by hip and knee replacements and the availability of buggies to carry those who can no longer get around on foot.

So you can add longevity to the many other advantages of golf, which is good news for everyone except those in the funeral business. And even they don't harbour hard feelings, judging by last week's news that a firm of funeral directors are to sponsor one of golf's best-supported charity events.

Help the Aged hold an annual championship among club golfers throughout the UK that has raised hundreds of thousands of pounds over the last 13 years. This year, the tournament will be sponsored by Golden Charter Funeral Plan, and involves clubs nominating one medal each from the men's and ladies' calendars. There is a small entry fee and the winners play in one of 10 regional finals. The top two men and women in each will contest the final at Royal Lytham in October.

I trust the response proves that old golfers are comfortable in the proximity of the great fairway in the sky. Most of us even have a pact that in our wills we leave a few quid to be put behind the bar so the lads can have a drink after the funeral. Alas, some do take advantage, so at our club we have a rule that if you are not seen at the funeral you don't get a free drink.

I only wish I had a better relationship with the veterans section. Sadly, I fell out with ours a few years ago when I had the misfortune to play behind a match they were playing against a visiting club. Most club teams comprise six players and play foursomes in their matches. Vets teams number about 12 and they play fourball better-ball, which is much slower. To follow them around the course is like being stuck behind a slow-moving load on the M4. The only difference is that you can eventually overtake on the motorway. There's no getting past a vets match.

I was playing with my son, and after enduring four holes of snail's-pace golf we stormed off and I wrote a letter to the club captain complaining about their slow play. They remind me, I wrote indignantly, of a phalanx.

Within a day or two I was being accosted by angry vets. Then the captain gave me a roasting for using a rude word in my letter. What rude word? "Phalanx," he said quietly, so as not to offend other members standing close by.

I tried to explain that the word phalanx had nothing to do with anything phallic but describes a close-order battle formation beloved of the ancient Greeks, which moves slowly while destroying everything in its path – just like the vets.

He was not convinced, and still mutters whenever he sees me. I'm sure that under his breath he's calling me a big phalanx.

For tournament details, visit www.helptheaged.org.uk