Hi guys, my name is Peter Hampy and I'm a golf commentator. Yes, you assumed correct! I am softly spoken, but my life is a lot better than yours because I get to tell aspiring golfers that they suck.

No, no, no, the golfers that I talk about don't suck. They are better than you, I'm just here to remind you that you're not very good.

My talent lies in my ability to understand why Tiger Woods crossed his index finger and his pinky finger (when he was good) in his grip. My talents are also easily known when I tell you why Dustin Johnson has an 'athletic' stance and how this might assist him, something that you will never understand because there you are, sitting at home.

And here I am, better than you because I found a way to pretend that I'm good at golf.

I, like you, tried hard at golf. Me and my friends hit the fairways every day and I struck the lotto because I could talk, hence I'm also smarter than you.

But it's not about me, it never is. Alright, it's always about me as I sit here in this lovely little room talking about golf while the players take a break for a bit of wind. There's a reason why I'm on your screens folks.

My friends like to spark up the banter, they are all golfing battlers - weekend warriors is what you're all called I think - like you and so they are quite envious of my position. I don't blame them because sometimes I wish I was me as well. I had to pinch myself when Phil Mickelson told me to 'fuck off' at the Masters, Phil spoke to me!

People seem to think that we have a great relationship with the players, but we don't. It's like they think they are better than us or something. Last I checked, I get to talk about golf and discuss why they suck, like you, but somehow I'm looked down upon.

If another player tells me that I don't know shit, I swear, I swear I'll say live on air that their swing isn't athletic enough. That'll teach 'em.

Don't get me started on John Daly. That guy, he's the only player to hurt me, he hurt my feelings. Here I am trying to maintain the ethics of our game and this Daly guy is smoking and being fat. Commentators like myself must uphold peak physical performance and be able to speak, yet here this Daly guy is looking like he does.

Here is something that you won't understand, how I could just win a pro-am.

I hit the driving range every morning, another thing that pisses me off. Clearly I am a very good golfer, incase you forgot, I talk about golf and highlight what the players are doing wrong, and I am relegated to the corner cubicle. It's disgusting, I have found used condoms, a bong, beer cans and - worst of all - divets near the tee.

I'm always quick to point out that my golfing ability wasn't quite up to the level as some of these players, which is why I gave the game up to talk about it. Which is great because I don't have to follow the horrible routines and I get to sneak out the back and munch on a few sausage rolls, I even allow myself a few kale-shakes on a cheat day.

Heck, sometimes I even get a bit off the rails and bring a salad into the commentary box. One time I got told off because I dropped a bit of aioli on to the woodgrain desk that we all sit behind. I told our boss where to go and that it was some bullshit-as-woodgrain - I know my woodgrain and would never allow that cheap stuff in my house.

Ah, my house. I don't even need to be good at golf, so instead of a virtual driving range, I have a woodgrain desk and a green screen. On Saturday nights, you'll find me in my man-cave, sitting behind my woodgrain desk, in front of my green screen, talking up a storm. You're welcome to join me but please don't kill my vibe, this is my career.

This is my career, talking about golf. I get to travel the world and talk about how this player sucks and that player's left big toe is slightly inward which allows his swing to come at a slightly inverted arch, thus giving him a strain in his right tricep.

And I'm here, while you're there, trying to hit the ball straight for the first time in your life.

What is life.