With the wind mercilessly buffeting Royal Birkdale this week, the Eagle was reminded of a classic tale from a Scottish Amateur Championship of yesteryear. In the days before laptops spirited journalists' words back to the office, hacks were required to file their copy by phone. On the day in question, conditions were so bad that it was decided to have the presentation to the winner in the press tent. At this point, one eager hack had started to file his copy over the phone. "Don't be surprised if you hear rounds of applause," he said to the copy-taker, in reference to the presentation going on in the background. "Don't worry," came back the reply, "Your copy isn't that good." Major championships tend to be awash with jobsworths. These usually take the form of overly officious marshals or irritating stewards who think that a luminous yellow jacket gives them the right to treat the paying public like they are something they have just wiped off the sole of their shoe. The Eagle suffered at the hands of one such figure yesterday when attempting to leave a ticket for a friend to collect. When dropping it off at the ticket collection point', everyone's favourite feathered friend was instructed to return inside and leave it at the Royal and Ancient ticket office. "What will happen to it there?" inquired the Eagle, in its finest shrill tones. "It will be brought back here for collection," was the mystifying reply. The Eagle, a wizened bird of prey, has come to appreciate that it best not to interfere with such exercises in pointless bureaucracy. Nevertheless, we have been impressed with the friendly, courteous marshals at this year's Open, a marked contrast to when the tournament has been held in Scotland recently. When one hapless hack lost his armband on the course the other day, he attempted to re-trace his steps and then asked a female marshal on the off-chance she may have spotted it. "To be honest, loov, if somebody picks it oop, they'll probably keep it as a souvenir. Ah think yer boogered," she added. The Eagle threw back his beak and laughed heartily, but is delighted to report that the armband was later handed in by some honest soul. Unlike some, Paul Casey has maintained his sense of humour in the face of adversity. He was out in the worst of the conditions on Saturday, but posted a round of 73, a superb score considering he lost his ball on the 15th. "We were told by the spotter where he thought it was, but couldn't find it," said Casey. "The Duke of York was there and he said he'd hit a ball in there the other day.

I said, did you find it sir'. He said, no'."