Minigolf im Stadtpark.

A few answers to

a few questions.

- When are you shutting up shop for winter?

We're not. We're open (almost) all year round. Of course, there's less time to play crazy golf in winter than there is in summer because it gets darker earlier, but we're open nonetheless. Except on Tuesdays.

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- Yes, but you don't open when the weather's bad, do you? 

Yes we do. Come rain, shine, hurricane or snowstorm, we're open when we say we are. If the golf course is iced up, then we don't open it for safety reasons, but you can still have something to eat or drink at the hut. Except on Tuesdays.

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- Yes, but is it worth your while opening up in winter?

Mind your own business.

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- Why can't we incorporate a round of golf into our stag-night/hen-party celebrations?

We try to be as democratic as possible at all times.

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So when we see a group of stag-nighters or hen-partiers, we ask ourselves one quick, simple question:

"Do we honestly believe that the majority of our customers, who want nothing more than a quick round of golf with their friends and family, would like to be surrounded by a group of bellowing blokes or squawking women with a handcart full of hard alcohol (which they've brought with them, as we don't sell it), a despicably loud sound system and the inability to either stand up or speak properly, who dominate the whole course simply because the drunken bloke wearing a tutu or the drunken woman dressed up  as Princess Leia is going to sign a couple of official forms in the near future?

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Our answer is always, "No, we honestly don't believe that, not really."

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Of course, "believe" and "know" aren't synonyms. We have to admit that we've never conducted any empirical studies on this subject. What we do know, however, is that we've had several complaints about wedding parties in the past, burt we've never, not once, had anybody come up to us and say, "That group of drunkards who made too much noise, fell over and relieved themselves without removing the appropriate items of clothing first were truly awesome. I'm only coming back if you can promise that they'll always be here."

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- Do you sell chips?

No.

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- Why not? If I were you, I'd sell chips.

Well, let's be happy that we're us and you're you, then, shall we?

Listen, Sherlock: If you were us, you wouldn't sell chips. Because to sell chips, you'd have to do building work on the hut (ventilation systems, stuff like that), and you wouldn't be allowed to. 

Unless you'd want to sell oven chips. But then nobody would buy them, because they taste like the bags they're sold in.

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- Are you really as rude as some people on the internet say you are?

Well, we do manage to say "Good morning", "Please", "Thank You" and Goodbye". Sometimes we even say it at the right time as well.

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However, we occasionally use the imperative. For example:

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- If we see you trampling all over our holes, we use the imperative to tell you to flipping well stop. Because you're not allowed to trample all over our holes. There are some courses where you can trample all over the holes because the holes are made of concrete, but ours isn't one of them. Our holes are very thin and can easily break under the weight of a human body.

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Just as an aside: There are over twenty "Bahnen nicht betreten" signs on the course. "Bahnen nicht betreten" means, loosely translated, "If you trample all over our holes, you'll be told in no uncertain terms to flipping well stop." Eighteen of these signs are at the start of each hole, where you tee off.

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- If you attempt to sneak onto the course without paying and we get wind of it, we use the imperative to inform you that you either buy a ticket or you scuttle off somewhere else.

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- If you use a golf club not for the purpose for which it's intended, but as a weapon or as a spade or as a means of destroying our property, we use the imperative to inform you that you shouldn't.*

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(* As the age group of the people who do this isn't one that normally reads long texts on the internet, we've got something for the accompanying adults: Your children may be gifted in all other areas of life, but they're still not allowed to smash up our stuff. Not even if the children are disappointed because they were so looking forward to stuffing their collective face with the chips that we don't sell.)

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- If we see you unpacking your own food and drink at our tables because you think we're a public picnic area, we use the imperative to inform you about how cheap and scabby your behaviour is.

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And we're going to keep on using the sort of language we use in the situations mentioned above. And if that means that we get one-star reviews online, then so be it. Getting stars was important to us when we were at primary school, but our priorities have changed a bit since then.

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And since we're on a roll:

It's sometimes more "polite" if you voice your complaints immediately (and you can even use the imperative). It's less "polite" to bottle out of any confrontation at the time and then write an alphabet soup of an online review after you get home.