GOLF WAR .© 2002/.3 Full length play for 5 (m) and 4 (f) actors.
"Hello, police? There's an Arab terrorist on Edge Hill Golf Club. No, of course he's not a member. He's not wearing the club tie".

First written in 2002, but that unruly bastard that we call history has had the audacity to become sillier than my fiction. I have had to keep up. No, dammit, I gave up . This play remains in a state of change to cause maximum offence. 
Film script and full stage script by application. Golf scene is also available as a stand-alone sketch (10 minutes)
The virtual premiere of this satirical play is dedicated to Richard Hamilton CH (1922 - 2011).

Look, we're just trying to play a round of golf. Is that too much to ask? Who is Saddam Saddam and why is he here? Where are those "weapons of mass destruction" and what threat does he pose, both to national security and common sense?






(m or f)





Scene 1

Golf course, a sand- pit. Audience cannot see lower than actors’ knees. Onstage Robert, Peter (the caddy) and (unseen) Saddam Saddam. Saddam is wearing full desert camouflage uniform, including a metal helmet. Later Bill, Sergeant Susan Bragg and Superintendent Keynes.

Robert is trying to get ball out of bunker. Peter other side of stage. Sand flies in the air, repeated 3 times. Then the club strikes metal. Look of surprise.

Robert: What the devil is that? Where’s my sand wedge?

Peter: You’re using it.

Robert: No I’m not. My wedge doesn’t make that noise.

Peter: This is the seventeenth hole, and the fifth time you’ve landed in a bunker today. Surely you recognise it; it’s the same club you had every other time.

Robert: No, this can’t be my sand wedge.

Peter: It most certainly is.

Robert: Are you certain?

Peter: How long have I been caddying for you?

Robert: It’s just – all right, you explain the noise.

Swings club. Metallic sound again.

Peter: What noise?

Robert: This noise……..

Swings club. Metallic sound


Moves to bunker.

What are you talking about?

Robert: This. Listen.

Swings club again.

                        You see what I mean. This can’t be my wedge. It’s usually so quiet.

Peter: Careful.

Robert: What do you mean?

Peter: You've hit metal. It could be anything. An unexploded bomb, maybe.

Both jump out of bunker, crouch on ground

                        Robert: How can it be an unexploded bomb? The way I’ve been hitting it we’d have been blown                             sky high by now.

                        Back in bunker. Swings, metal sound.

See. No explosion.

                         Swings again, metal, then human cry.

I didn't notice that before. This wedge is making all sorts of noises.

Peter: It’s not the club. That sounded like a human cry.

Crouches out of sight, digs. Sand flying.

Robert: I'm concerned. Are you sure digging is within the rules?

Peter: There is someone here

Bill: What’s going on? Hey, is digging within the rules?

Peter: We heard noises. It sounded like there was someone here.

Bill: Where? Is it a member?

Robert: Here?

Bill: What? I can only see you two.

Robert: Listen.

Gets Peter to stand away. Swings club. Metal, cry.

You hear that?

Bill: My God! You've hit metal. It could be an unexploded bomb.

Gets down.

Robert and Peter start digging. Sand everywhere.

Robert: You’re right. There’s something here.

Peter: I think there's a body here.

Robert: Is it alive?

Bill: Is it a member.


Unseen, cries out.

Peter: It shouted like it was alive.


Stands. Gets out of bunker, edge of stage. Looks at dented helmet, looks for somewhere to run.

Robert: Who the devil are you?

Saddam: English?

Robert: What you? No, I see. Of course we’re English?


Raises hands.

No shoot. I am prisoner of English, yes?

Bill: Is he a member? I'm not sure that we are allowed to take members prisoner.

Robert: You've not seen him before?

Bill: No. Never. Have you?

Robert: No. Mind you, it’s hard to say for sure. They even let women in nowadays.

Peter: Doesn't look much like a woman.

Robert: He’s not wearing the club tie.

Bill: A lot of men get away with not wearing ties nowadays. Come to think of it, he’s dressed in a most unusual
                        way. Hey, you! Don’t you know we have a dress code here? They’ll not let him  in the bar, the steward’s
                       very hot on dress code. I said, they won’t let you in the bar. No G & T for you, my lad.

Saddam: I surrender. G & T? What is?

Robert: Gin, alcohol. No drinkies for you at the nineteenth hole, my lad.


Saddam: No. I no supposed to drinking the drinkies. I am Muslim. OK, perhaps a little whisky? 

B                      Bill: Muslim. My God, and that’s not a sand wedge he’s carrying!

Robert: No it’s not. I’ve not seen a club like that before. Interesting design.

Bill: It’s a ……don’t make any sudden moves.

Peter: We don’t want to do anything ….

                        Moves slowly towards Saddam.

H    u                Saddam:

Drops rifle. Raises hands.

                    Prisoner of war, yes? You catch me. Hit helmet.


Picks up rifle, points it at Saddam

Get on the phone to the police.

Robert: Can’t do that. Not without checking with the club secretary first.

Peter: Get on the phone. What’s the matter with you?

Bill: Hey, steady on there. It’s all very well for a caddy to give advice on the choice of wood,
                        but giving orders like this is overstepping the mark.

Peter: Phone, get on the phone, dammit. Don’t you realise we may have a terrorist here.

Saddam: I no terrorist. I am soldier. Look, uniform of soldier.

Robert: Certainly not the club dress code. I wasn’t wrong there.

Bill: He’s not wearing the club tie, that’s for sure.

Peter: Hey! I’d do it myself, but I have my arms full here.

Saddam: Please, to be more quiet. I have big pain.


                        Strikes him with rifle butt. He falls, then remembers to put hands in air.

You see what could happen? He nearly got away. You want to see the club-house blown up by some mad 

Saddam: Making the telephone call. I have more bigger pain.


                        Takes phone from Robert. Dials.

Hello, emergency. Police, please. What does it matter who I am or where I am dialling from?
                         This is a mobile phone. Just a minute – what’s the number of this phone? Will you hurry? I
                         have captured a terrorist on the golf course. Please hurry. Hello? Hello? Is that the police? My
                         name is Peter Reed. It’s a mobile phone.

H                    Saddam:    That good telephone.

Robert: Yes, the latest. Email, pictures, WAP, infra-red…..I can let you know where you can get a good deal, if you
                         like. Are you sure you're not a member? Now I look at you, your face does seem a bit familiar. 

Peter: The number is….there is an Arab terrorist on Edge Hill Golf Club. Yes, by all means pass me  on to a
                        senior officer. Hello, yes, Edge Hill. Me? Peter Reed. No, I’m the caddy. Yes I can, if you really insist.

                        Passes phone to Robert.

Robert:    Hello? You’re a member, you say? Yes of course. Robert Haynes, yes, that’s right, last May. No the
                          terrorist isn’t a member, so far as we can work out. No club tie........Seventeenth, just by the bunker. Yes, 
                          very dangerous, very dangerous indeed. Just when you think you’ve almost got round, just in sight of the  
                         clubhouse. No, just an ordinary sand-wedge. Yes, oh, that's a good idea. I'll try that. Fine. Bye.

Bill: Who was it?

Robert: Jack Keynes.

                        Peter: Is he sending someone?

Robert: Didn’t say. He did suggest an alternative wood for that bunker, though.

Bill: Oh, I would imagine he would send someone. Jack Keynes seems pretty solid.

Robert: Certainly will try a different wood next time. How long do you think they’ll be?

Peter: I hope they hurry. I’m not sure I know how to use one of these.

Saddam: Really much easy. Hold to…..arm join chest?

Peter: Shoulder.

                        Attempts to follow instructions

Bill: Long enough to finish the round, if you can just get yourself out of this sand pit.

H                       Saddam: No, hurt of ….shoulder….if do like that.

                          Stands behind Peter, guides correct stance. Then back on his knees.

Also is hard to aiming when closeness of other person. Better with prisoner to using small gun.

Produces pistol, about to hand it to Peter.


Swings, pointing in direction of Saddam.



Covers eyes with hands

Aargh! I am make blind!


Offstage, megaphone sound or SX pre-recorded.

                        This is the police. You are surrounded. Drop your weapons and come out with your hands up.

Saddam: What is happen?

Keynes: This is your last chance. Drop your weapons or we will be forced to….Sergeant Bragg, do you have a clear 
                        shot to that man with the rifle?…..we will be forced to open fire. I’m going to count to……

SX Gun shot

Peter and Saddam both drop guns. All 4 raise hands.


                        Offstage, as before

How many times do I have to tell you, Sergeant. You wait until I have FINISHED counting!


O                        Offstage

Sorry, Super. I’ll try to remember. Wait until he finishes counting before I shoot. Wait until he finishes 
                           counting before I shoot. Wait until....I think I've got it now, sir. Would you like to try again?

Enters with Super. Keynes

                                                    Or shall I just shoot them now, sir?

Keynes: No Sergeant Bragg. I don'’t think that will be necessary.

Keynes and Bragg lead the other 4 off at gunpoint. Following lines offstage

Sergeant: Can I at least pistol-whip them?

Keynes: All right, but just make sure nobody is watching this time. And read them their rights first.

Contact for CClick here for remaining scenes and performance rights.