Dom Joly: Tee for two but no more Mr Nice Guy

A celebrity golf day – what could be more fun? Well, now that you come to mention it, quite a few things. I was invited to join a team at the London Club for a day organised by the star of that cinematic epic Snakes On A Plane, Samuel L Jackson.

The first problem was the London Club is not actually in London. If the truth be told, it's almost in France – just outside Dover. I arrived at seven in the morning to find a hungover-looking group shuffling about the breakfast room. Alice Cooper tottered past with a cup of herbal tea. A couple of Brit actors (the Prat Pack?) stood around in silly hats pretending to be hipsters. On a central table Jackson held court next to Luke Wilson and someone I didn't recognise but should have. A large Bluetooth flickered constantly in the great man's ear, presumably with urgent news of the Snakes on a Plane sequel – More Snakes On Another Plane.

I was there as a guest of Richard Schiff (Toby from The West Wing) and there were rumours Ross Kemp might join us. These were eventually scotched when it turned out that Ross had been captured by pirates and was being held hostage in a service station somewhere in Sussex. Hollywood hierarchy was very much in play. Richard was decked out in a curious purple golf outfit provided by the organisers. Jackson's flustered PA approached our table and looked at us with some disdain. "Do you need golf balls?" asked the Medusa. We nodded. Richard was brought a huge box of balls and we were handed a little sleeve each.

Also sat at our table was Michael Campbell, the New Zealand golfer who won the US Open in 2005. He is an extremely nice man who just so happens to be the second-richest sportsman in New Zealand (the first being Tiger Woods' caddy). I was pleased to see that, with no movies under his belt, he was treated no better than us.

Once breakfasted, we headed for the practice range. I found myself in between Cooper (whom I last met when I was running away from him mid-interview in Trigger Happy) and Wilson. I teed up a ball, hit it and watched with horror as it went sharply to the right and destroyed my beautiful pyramid of practice balls before nearly taking Cooper's head off. I left my preparation at that and slipped away. "Cool practice routine, dude," offered Wilson, affably.

We were told to start on the 10th, well away from the wall of cameras assembled on the first to watch Hollywood tee off. I was quite pleased, as I really didn't need the added pressure of probing lenses. Then I hit the tee shot of my dreams and wished that there had been some to record it. Even Campbell congratulated me and I graciously offered him some tips before we moved on. He seemed very grateful.

Everywhere we went ice-cold Fiji water, the Hollywood water of choice, was on offer, the bottles stacked in Red Bull display tubes that had been covered with Fiji posters in a wholly unconvincing manner.

Our host Schiff is a passionate golf player. He always carries two full sets of clubs – one for playing with and the other for hurling about in a rage. He managed to launch one club a good two hundred yards – "my personal record," he admitted later. Richard was a New York cabbie before becoming the fine actor he is today. "I don't scare easy," he screamed at me through gritted teeth as we raced for the same gap in the bushes in our buggies. I do scare easy and was concerned for both the west and east wings of my buggy – I backed off.

We played badly enough not to trouble the prize-giving. Cooper won the nearest the pin and Jackson was officially told he was the best by his PA (whether he won or not I've no idea). We skipped the lunch and had a pint in the bar. I spotted Steve Backley and said hello. "Who's that?" asked Richard. "He's an Olympic javelin thrower," I replied. "I bet he can hit the ball a long way," said Richard. "I don't know," I said, "but he could definitely throw a club further than you and that's saying something."

I'm not anticipating another invite next year.

Last action hero – or Van Damned reunited

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