GENERALLY speaking, it's probably not advisable for high handicap golfers to try and emulate Rory McIlroy's swing – but it can be highly enjoyable.

I was blown away watching the world number one's swing in slow motion during this year's Masters, especially the way he bends his knees at the top of the downswing before exploding upwards through the ball.

On a trip to the driving range not long afterwards, I had a go at incorporating the same move into my swing.

The results were astounding, with iron shots going two clubs further than normal and drives sailing into the distance.

Of course, there is always a flip side to these things and the added distance came at the expense of a good deal of accuracy.

I decided to stick with my own, far less explosive swing when I next took to the course to do battle with my brother-in-law, Steve.

After a duff on the first tee, I actually made a half-decent start and a par at the fourth saw me move two shots ahead.

I should have stopped there.

The rest of the front nine was pretty much a disaster. Four of the next five holes were at least treble-bogeys, with the other a rather random par thrown in for good measure.

It was one of those horrible runs during which you genuinely feel like putting your clubs out with the rubbish. It felt like I had never swung a club before.

Lowlights included a couple of horrible shanks and a prolonged visit to the heavy rough that led to a nine on the par-four ninth. However, it almost involved a tragedy as well.

On the par-three eighth, I noticed a cat in the undergrowth on the left side of the hole, 20 yards from the tee.

"That cat better watch out," I joked, before thinning the ball inches over the poor creature's head on my way to a lost ball and a seven.

By the turn I was 11 shots behind Steve and out of contention, and when things didn't get any better early on the back nine, I decided to go into Rory mode.

Rather shockingly, it began well. I absolutely creamed my first drive and the next one went just as far, albeit with a heavy slice.

That slice then became something of a feature, with me struggling to keep the ball on the right hole, but it was great fun bombing the ball 20 or 30 yards further than normal.

I managed to hit my tee shot to the short par-four 17th within 10 yards of the green, but three duffed chips later and my bad mood was restored.

I made up two shots on the back nine, but Steve still won, reducing my lead, which had been 4-0, to 4-3.