It could be John Daly's epitaph. The man who prepared for his Open Championship-winning final round at St Andrews in 1995 by eating 10 chocolate croissants has advised golfers to "let your belly lead your hands".

Daly, who can munch through 20 packets of M&Ms in a round and was once disqualified from a junior tournament for having a bottle of Jack Daniels in his bag, has finally got round to publishing his own instruction book: Golf My Own Damn Way.

His belly has led his entire life.

He failed to turn up for the champions' dinner at St Andrews in 2005 because "you can't get a coat and tie on this fat boy". This particular tip, however, is simply a variation of the notion that your belt buckle should point to the target on the follow through.

For a man who once destroyed his own house, kicking in a 57-inch TV and smashing his trophy cabinet, it is strangely sensible.

"You can't see your own belt buckle," points out Daly, "so focus on that little extra hanging over your belt. For some of us that's easier than others. My point here is that your belly is your key to a good golf swing.

"As it turns towards your back foot let your hands follow. Don't sway, just turn your belly. Pause just long enough to let your wrists cock then turn your belly back along the line sharply and keep on turning until it's facing the target, with your hands following just behind.

"Don't think about anything else."

Daly's book may never become a Ben Hogan-type classic. If you're looking for detailed scientific and anatomical analysis you will be disappointed, but the man who has led life to the full and has four wives to show for it - his latest is doing time for a felony - has sound advice like leave your driver in the bag.

"That's right," he assures, "the guy whose personal motto is grip it and rip it' wants you to leave your driver in the bag while you're getting ready to play. Hear me out. I'm not telling you to leave your driver in the bag all day. Hell, golf is supposed to be fun, and what's more fun than letting the big dog eat."

Daly advises instead to practise with the club you will use for your second shot, and while we're on the subject of preparation he insists that you do exactly that instead of having one more beer before your round.

If this sounds like a reformed character, Daly reminds that there is plenty time after golf for excesses, but a little warming up is a good thing. His ideal warm-up for a 9am tee-off has been described by his agent Bud Martin as: wake up at 8am, hit McDonald's at 8.15 for a couple of egg McMuffins with large fries and a chocolate shake, roll into the course car park at 8.30, sign a few autographs, stroke a few putts then melt a 350-yard drive.

"Bud's exaggerating," claims Daly, "but not by much. To me the only reason to go to the range before going out to play is to loosen up, not to practise."

The Daly philosophy on practice is it should be left to a day you're not playing golf, and he reveals that the only time he's been to the range immediately after a round is for tactical reasons to avoid the media.

On putting he has a variation on the polite theme of "never up, never in". Daly says in order to give yourself a chance of holing out "the last thought that goes through your mind before you bring back your putter should be: get the f****** ball to the f****** hole."

Now that's how to get a message across.

Daly suggests the PGA Tour should allow players to wear Bermuda shorts, should make carts mandatory and should strip-search spectators to keep mobiles and cameras off the course.

He also gives a tour round his $1.7m "Magic Bus" equipped with king-size bed, washer-dryer, kitchen, dining table, two 46-inch plasma TVs, mirrored ceilings, marble floors and a big fold-out grill. What's this to do with instruction?

"Getting a decent night's sleep on Thursday could mean the difference between playing golf for money on the weekend and watching cartoons on Saturday morning before packing up and heading out to the next town," he says.

One wonders what the mirrored ceilings are for. The answer might be to check the position of his belt buckle, but perhaps not.

"Don't count on getting much good at either," advises Daly, "unless you're willing to practise, practise, practise. You gotta want it, know what I mean?"

  • Golf: My Own Damn Way, Playing the Game and Lovin' Life, by John Daly, HarperSport, £9.99.