It was a beautiful day last Sunday. Clear sky, still; following an early frost. Your correspondent drove in by the green in Penally. There against the Abbey Wall were snowdrops serenading in the morning light. Daffodils were advanced, a sign of spring. Ahead was the prospect of a morning of Rabbit golf. No wonder he hummed 'What a Wonderful World' as he drove into Tenby Golf Club.

But before we analyse the play on Sunday it is appropriate to report an incident which was so serious the CID had to become involved.

It started two weeks ago in the clubhouse. The Rabbits, as they do, were debating. War in Iraq, the Poet Laureate's rejoinder, Kylie Minogue; you know, the normal subjects the Rabbits like to debate. When, all of a sudden, R. F. Murphy stated he had never tasted bass. Well, this was preposterous and all about collapsed into masses of wobbly jelly. R. F. Murphy was hurt and, as he said, we were at that time debating fish quotas. Of course he had tasted Bass, in fact, he had kept that brewery going single-handedly for two years in the 70s. He had never tasted sea-bass. It was that which was on his mind.

Well, M. K. Munro had listened to this debate. Sympathetic with R. F. Murphy in his embarrassment, declared he would bring in a sea-bass for R. F. Murphy's pleasure next week.

To cut a long story short, M. K. Munro landed a sea-bass off Giltar the following day; one pound 13 ounces of delectable flesh; gutted it and put in his deep freeze.

Sunday arrives and M. K. Munro brings this specimen to the Golf Club to present to R. F. Murphy following play. He had wrapped it in a Fortnam and Masons plastic bag, but unaccountably placed it under his car in the car park, allegedly to keep fresh during play.

Horror, horror. During the morning something terrible had found this fish and devoured the best bits, leaving a head and tail connected by a fish spine. The bones as clean as a whistle. The whole image seen in children's comics years ago. Dandy and Beano come to mind.

M. K. Munro brought this carnage into the clubhouse; fish gore dripping from the Fortnum and Mason bag. R. K. Murphy declined his gift politely. The committee met: "Who ate the sea bass?" Fortunately, the Rabbits have two first class sleuths amongst their number. They were sent out to investigate.

They left with note books, black crayon pencils and churchwarden pipes. Feet at ten to two. Clip, clop. Stephen Cole, of Scotland Yard, and John Hunt, a retired zoo detective from London. They would resolve the crime. "Who ate the fish?" It could have been dogs, cats, birds or human agency. The rabbits drank their beers in a state of tension.

When after half-an-hour the CID returned to announce the fish was dead, brilliant. They were sent out again to say "who dunnit?" Clip, clop. Notebooks at the ready. And who says that crime is going undetected? Blunkett will be informed of this masterly diagnosis.

Another half-hour goes by. Then, clip, clop, the CID return. John Hunt speaks first: "It was not a seagull or crow. They would peck the eyes out. The eyes of the sea bass were intact and fresh. Rule out cats or dogs. They would have eaten the head and tail. I know. I've seen it before at Whipsnade. I believe it was a human act."

Stephen Cole, of Scotland Yard, spoke next. He agreed with John Hunt's autopsy, but reported that he had been making enquiries around and about the scene. Evidently, during the morning, long before the Rabbits had returned from their play, several starving Divots had been seen secreting out of the clubhouse to M. K. Munro's car and taking a bite out of this choice fish. He identified and described the Divot tooth marks with relish.

It is all very sad. R. K. Murphy still hasn't tasted sea bass and a prosecution will follow.

The rabbits wish to thank the CID for their assistance, but are desperate to report on the golf which follows. This was a most unfortunate chapter and best left to the Crown Prosecution Service. In the meantime, a wedge has been driven between Rabbits and Divots which is unfortunate as the Rabbits have striven for years to bring goodwill between the two societies.

First away on this sublime morning were Fred Adlam and Philip Davies against the fish hungry Ron Murphy and partner Gordon Glaves. Needless to say, the Adlam/Davies team added to Ron Murphy's woes by winning on the 13th and it was left to partner Gordon Glaves to comfort Ron on a day he will never forget.

Philip Davies had once again played a blinder and his star partner Fred Adlam looks very satisfied with him. Just one little criticism crept in as it is very necessary to have sharp eyes and a nose for sniffing out lost balls when partnering Fred. He hits tremendous distances, often only one degree off line, but it brings problems at times. Philip is not a good spotter and was reprimanded; but as he said: "If I spend all my time looking for his drives we would never complete the game. There are not enough daylight hours at present."

Sitting firmly at the foot of the table are Tom Pritchard and Brian Dooley. They lost again on Sunday. Though their game was good, it was just not enough, as their opponents were in par-birdie mode. They are wonderful opponents, the sort that sportsmen pray for, so genial and friendly are they. But they will never be champions until they learn to be nasty and mean.

Take the New Zealander John Murcott, for instance, playing with Steve Cole this week. He has an evil edge to his game and such power. He likes to think he is Sean Fitzpatrick, the recent All Blacks captain. You know, the man who enjoyed chewing off the ears of front row opponents. Everybody was scared of him and could never relax. So it is with John Murcott, daunting and savage. Goodness, many players don't even turn up to play him, and so he gathers the points. Your correspondent feels Tom Pritchard and Brian Dooley need to become nasty too. A course on the Saddam Hussein finishing seminar would not come amiss for them.

Away fourth were Colin Smith and John Hunt, who putted their way to victory against Stephen Price and John Murphy. A close game, remarkable for the number of times Colin Smith's trolley collapsed. Unfortunately, space this week precludes too much detail on this match, though Stephen Price did try to divert attention from his and John's demise by giving a detailed account of his recent victory in the Pigmy Open played recently somewhere in West Africa. This delicacy is being withheld for a later report.

George Pegg and Philip Watkins garnished two good points against Peter Moss and Angus MacTavish, and John Stevenson, partnered by Philip Carpenter, were good victors against the seemingly unbeatable Eugene Boyd and Stephen Harries.

While last out on the course were league leaders Dave Moran and Bud French, challenged this week by the high-flying team of David Morgan and Peter Watkins. On the 11th it was all square, with every hole being halved with a par. A slender lead was then taken by Dave and Bud, but on the 14th the Morgan/Watkins team struck back with a devastating birdie three, and the match was on. The toughness of the Moran/French team now showed and they won on the 17th after a truly epic fight.

They are three points clear at the top of the table, probably unassailable. At the Duffy Dinner following the end of the league they are expected to speak, both of them. The Rabbits captain Glyn Price insists on 20 minutes each from the victors. On hearing this news, they went green. The captain may have found a chink in their game.

This had been a very interesting Sunday. Great pity about the sea bass.

Results were: F. Adlam and P. Davies bt R. Murphy and G. Glaves 7 and 5; P. Marsden and M. Munro bt T. Pritchard and B. Dooley 4 and 3; C. Smith and J. Hunt bt S. Price and John Murphy 2 up; G. Pegg and Philip Watkins bt A. P. Moss and A. MacTavish 2 and 1; P. Carpenter and J. Stevenson bt E. Boyd and S. Harries 4 and 3; D. Moran and B. French bt D. Morgan and Peter Watkins 2 and 1; S. Cole and J. Murcott bt G. Price and S. Watkins 2 and 1.