Most golfers will jump at any excuse to get out on the course. Charity days, for example, are quite useful – one is supporting a good cause, after all. Topping the hierarchy, though, is the corporate or sponsored day. This one, dear readers, is the crème de la crème of golf invitations. Firstly, they qualify as work. Secondly, they generally take place on a weekday. Finally, they are often held at courses that are either expensive or difficult to get onto, and the largesse extends to ‘goodie bags’.

The obligatory branded golf shirt is a necessary evil. However, one of the companies whose day I’ve been invited to several times selects top of the range gear and then brands it so discreetly that you can wear it for the rest of the year. Most considerate, wouldn’t you say?

I’ve received the expected range of golfing paraphernalia (balls, tees, pencils, pitch repair fork etc), as well as caps, shirts and kit bags. But the most unusual item I’ve ever received in a goodie bag – by a considerable distance – was a copy of the New Testament and Psalms.

I realise that I am displaying a great deal of self-centred greed in expressing dismay at this gift, but what use could a Bible possibly be in assisting me to get around a golf course in the minimum number of strokes? The Word of God may well be useful in keeping sinners on the straight and narrow, but golf balls?

Divine intervention in golf was famously invoked by Lee Trevino when he walked out onto a course during an electric storm waving a one-iron above his head, safe from a lighting strike, he said, because “not even God can hit a one-iron”.

The efficacy of handing out Bibles in the hope of achieving religious conversions is limited; I’ve heard it said that going to church no more makes one a Christian than standing in a garage makes one a motor car. Similarly, swinging a Callaway driver at a Nike golf ball, even on the revered links of St Andrews or Carnoustie, does not necessarily make one a golfer.

A golfer plays his sport bound by a long tradition of ethics and conventions, many of which are largely self-monitored. If playing the game by a set of values is what makes the golfer, then perhaps religion is not that far removed from the coda of golf.

Take, for example, the intensity of feeling around those conventions, such as holding up play, cheating, or Mulligans. These can provoke responses as potent as religious debates about ‘moral’ issues such as homosexuality or sex before marriage. To the purist, a Mulligan – whereby a dud shot is written off as if it had not happened, and a fresh one is taken – falls outside the spirit of golf.

My doubt that the New Testament could be of any assistance on a golf course was dissolved by John, chapter three, when Jesus says “no-one can see the kingdom of God unless he is born again”. What is this, I ask you, other than an instruction to take another ball out of your bag and tee it up so that you can have another go?

So, there you have it, Mulligans are sanctioned by Scripture. If it goes on like this, golf apparel will become known as vestments. Once it reaches that stage, golf can be played with a clear conscience whenever the mood arises.

Sex is a rather useful activity. Apart from the role it plays in procreation, it’s also popular as a recreational pastime. And, the technologies behind both online videos and ecommerce were largely developed by/for the porn industry.

Imagine that; without smut we may still be waiting for YouTube, which means that Susan Boyle would never have become the sensation she has.

But, for all its ubiquity, when it comes to sex each of us is an island. So, researchers aggregate thousands of anonymous responses to questionnaires in assimilating some kind of perspective of where society is, as far as sex is concerned.

Health24.com has published the results of its annual sex survey, during which 10,000 people (mostly South African, one assumes) completed an online questionnaire. The method of polling would obviously have skewed the results, but they’re an interesting slice of society nonetheless.

The first bit of data that jumped out at me was a yes/no response to a question that asked whether penetration of the vagina by a penis constituted sex. Clearly, if one is doing a survey on sex it’s important to know whether everyone is on the same page (or should that be on the same bed?). Based upon a personal definition Bill Clinton was therefore able to answer that he “did not have sexual relations with that woman”. OK, some people may well debate oral ‘sex’, but surely when a penis enters a vagina, the final defence – in a manner of speaking – has been breached.

And yet an astounding 1.15% of men and 1.81% of women declared that this was not sex. If it isn’t sex, I have to ask them, then what is it?

The answers to the acceptability of buying or selling sex were predictable. An economist may express surprise, though, at women’s condemnation of the practice, considering that they are the main financial beneficiaries of such activity.

Stereotypes were once again confirmed with the question about faking orgasms, but I was more than a little surprised to find that a large percentage of men had “once or twice”, “regularly” or “sometimes” faked it. The success of this practice clearly comes down (pun unintended) to some pretty basic physical evidence. Did they get away with it, I have to wonder.

It was a relief to see that both groupings derived an equal level of enjoyment from the last time they had sex, and it was clear that a caterer was not involved in setting up the questions – there was no vegetarian option to the question involving sex with animals.

There was a series of questions where women surprisingly out-pointed men in the “sometimes” category, which made me wonder whether a further round of pre-emptive definitions was perhaps not necessary.

Maybe men and women just have a different definition of the word “sometimes”, which I suspect would also be highlighted by asking each of them whether they “sometimes” or “never” wash the dishes.

I sometimes think that vegetarians get a rough deal. Unless you’re somewhere like India, it can be difficult to find interesting/thoughtful/tasty vegetarian food. Let’s face it, the world is set up around the preferences of people that regard a meal as falling a long way short if it doesn’t have at least 200 grams of some kind of flesh.

Generally speaking, chefs also get a lot more excited about cooking the perfect piece of fish, meat or foie gras than they do about a fabulous stir-fry of chickpeas with spinach, olive tapenade and NoMU’s Moroccan Rub (I’ll never forget Mr Pinocho’s delicious example in Barcelona’s Boqueria Market). Most of the time the kitchen takes the view that it’s a vegetarian meal as long as it doesn’t contain any flesh.

I wonder how many times vegetarians have had to make do with a meal – and probably even pay full price for it – that comprised only the vegetables that accompanied the meal prepared for the non-veggies.

Professional kitchens are famous for the ire inspired by non-regular orders (I have to admit to the use of expletives on occasion, especially when being told – in the final moments before service – of a garlic intolerance).

Through my marital connection to Dish Food & Social, the caterer contracted to Cape Town’s burlesque supper club, Vaudeville, I have been involved in planning the February/March menu (it runs from mid-month to mid-month). The starter comprises a mezze platter, fresh sourdough ciabatta and generous salad. Main course is a choice of a meat, fish or vegetarian dish, and dessert is the same for everyone.

One of our major constraints is that the plated main course has to be served to +-250 people in 10 to 15 minutes, so there’s a limit to how complex we can get.

Vegetarians – neglected for so long – really do have something to look forward to on the next menu (not that they haven’t in the past). The accompanying pictures are of rosa tomatoes that I wood-roasted with a hint of chilli in preparation for today’s menu tasting with Vaudeville’s management team. They (the tomatoes, not the managers) get a lovely smokey flavour in the wood oven, and the juices are concentrated by the cooking process. We add these to wilted spinach, crunchy greens, lemon zest, ripped basil and shavings of fresh parmesan, and then toss them with freshly drained penne.

It’s a dish with bags of flavour, a nice contrast of textures, and the spectrum of colours makes it really easy on the eye.

It may well be hyperbolic – if not immodest – to suggest that more people would be vegetarian (if only for part of the week) if dishes like this were widely available. But one thing’s for certain; at least as much love has gone into this dish as any of the others on the menu.

So, get to Vaudeville for a great show … and food to match!

As a kid growing up in a farming community I often heard talk of “middlemen”; usually in scornful reference to the perception that they inflate prices at the expense of the farmer.

The first rule of The Market is that the entity closest to the consumer gets the biggest chunk of the margin. Hence retailers may take 30%, distributors 20%, and so on. An obvious difference is Apple, which not only controls the retail prices of its products, but also is held in such esteem by consumers that it dictates to its intermediaries what (slim) margin they will get.

On a continuum from source to market, farmers are – by definition – a long way away from the consumer, both physically and conceptually. Perhaps my fascination with marketing has its roots in those early experiences; certainly, the work I’ve done in the wine industry has been aimed at closing that gap (with the internet being an obvious tool).

The private labels I developed as a retailer gave consumers the price benefit of products that didn’t have the cost of a distribution channel built into the margin. I think they also got damn fine wines, as evidenced by the number of times that Mystery wines topped either Wine magazine or Wine-of-the-Month Club tastings.

The work I’ve done at Cloof has been focused on shaping products and brands that are sufficiently interesting to consumers that they are able to cut through the clutter in the marketplace. An analogy that springs to mind is the contrasting visibility of a lighthouse on a dark night, and an individual penguin in the middle of a colony of thousands.

So, here I am (voluntarily unemployed) at the start of 2010, getting ready to apply my wild card-type thinking to product development, branding and marketing, with an holistic view of the entire business – numbers and all.

I’m calling my new venture Slingshot Brand Equity. While creative input may comprise a small part of the enterprise effort, it can have a disproportionate effect on the success of the business, over a long period of time. Apart from this amplification effect, brands themselves catapult businesses into another sphere.

Finally, business is about the numbers – if there’s no profit there’s no business. As far as is possible I’m simultaneously creative and analytical.

Clearly, at Cloof I had the opportunity of shaping the entire business from the ground up. Initial projects I’m involved in cover a variety of practical applications, sometimes affecting just one area of a business. I’m happy to look at almost anything, because it’s a great way to get exposed to new territory.

One of the things I’ve struggled with most of all over the past month as I’ve formulated my plan, has been the really important thing of a simple definition of the benefit my partners/clients will get from me. This has really bugged me, because if I can’t do it for myself, how can I do it for someone else?

So, here it is: I shape brands and bring them closer to consumers.

It’s very simplistic, because my eyes are on a lot of balls while I’m doing it, but that’s the end result of my efforts.

It’s a role that may not make me that different to the “middlemen” so derided by the farmers of my childhood, but it’s one I passionately love.