Tiger's not out of the woods

Hyde Park suddenly looks a daunting place when you stand quivering on the tee beneath Marble Arch and contemplate firing a titanium golf ball over Speaker's Corner to the tree-lined fairway beyond.

Will the shot knock a Doomsday merchant off his soapbox? Do you use your Great Big Bertha driver, the most powerful club in your armoury? How would Tiger Woods play it?

On 13 November, hundreds of Evening Standard readers will be able to witness for themselves how the world's greatest golfer tackles one of the world's greatest city parks when, in a remarkable one-off event, Tigermania sweeps Hyde Park.

Of course, with his awesome power and skill, the 24-year-old American will reduce the hole they're making specially for him alongside Rotten Row literally into a gentle stroll in the park. Probably a chip and a putt will do for Tiger.

However, as we discovered by putting it to the test, even the young master might struggle if he were to attempt to conquer the ultimate fantasy golf course created for the Evening Standard by computer wizardry.

And if Tiger would have difficulty rising to the challenge, just imagine what Hyde Park horrors we found lying in store for the average high-handicap weekend hacker.

Don't even dream about birdies. The only ones you'll ever encounter are the ducks on the Serpentine, or the occasional pigeon pecking at your ball - that's if you ever see it again after thwacking it into the head-high rushes or dense shrubbery.

The Serpentine, itself, is an obstacle guaranteed to reduce even the biggest hitters to tears. One minute, it's a blissful feature, sparkling in the autumn sunshine. The next it's a dark, brooding monster...a watery graveyard for golf balls, a loathsome, frustrating menace. . . grrr!!!

Big tip. Make certain you're carrying one of those extendable metal ball retrievers - the longer the better. You're going to need it if you want to save enough ammunition to continue across Serpentine Road and onwards towards Bayswater.

It doesn't really get much easier from then in. The trouble is, the thoughtless bounders who first planted these royal parks insisted on including whopping great trees . . . thousands of them.

By the time you've clunked your way through them like a demented woodpecker, you will be an absolute saint if you haven't snapped at least half-a-dozen irons over your knee in absolute fury and frustration. Then there's all the other par-shattering distractions that would test the patience of Job - the skateboarders, rollerbladers, snogging couples and screaming kids demanding icecreams.

The temptation is to dump the entire bag of bloody clubs in the nearest bin and take up a more relaxing pastime, like pot-holing or bungee jumping.

Fortunately, however, our computer wizards have provided the perfect 19th hole where you can unwind over a stiff glass of single malt and, as always, remember only the good shots.

Where better than Buckingham Palace. So, it's over the shoulder once again with the golf bag and off down the Mall. Get the bacon sandwiches on, Ma'am.