Do you ever get the feel it might not be your day? The names are changed to protect the innocent. Read on:
Earlier this year the intrepid twosome noticed that entries were invited for a national fishing competition.
“This looks alright and when we qualify we will get a weekend away fishing in Wales, great”.
And so they got their entry away.
The qualifier came around and for them they did exceptionally well, qualifying easily. The only fly in the ointment being the fishery owner introducing them to the match organiser as Jack and Victor and letting it be known in loud terms that they were well known as the two grumpiest old gits that frequented the fishery. This was ignored until they came ashore and the said match organiser informed them that they had qualified and that he was pleased to have them in the competition, as having heard them in the boat he could only strongly agree with the fishery owner and that the competition needed characters ,even if they could compete for Scotland in the grumpy stakes.
The weekend approached for the competition and anticipation mounted for our pair of fishers. However there was a slight disagreement for which vehicle should be taken along the lines of:
“We have taken your vehicle every time we go any distance it is time I took mine”. “No yours is an old wreck we had better take mine”. “No it’s a great car and I never get any bother with it.”
So it was decided that Victor would take his lovely older vehicle.
They set out and on arriving in the beautiful Welsh town they were staying in Victor announced that all was well and had not the vehicle performed beautifully?
However as usual, pride comes before a fall and at the busiest junction in the place as the vehicle rolled up to the turn to the hotel, where they were staying, Victor announced:
“Hell the clutch has just gone”.
This was greeted by Jack’s:
“Stop mucking around and get us into the hotel car park”.
Victor remonstrated that he was not mucking about and that the clutch had indeed packed in. There then proceeded to be an interesting half an hour whilst the vehicle was cleared of the junction and the AA were called. The nice man from the AA turned up an hour later and pronounced that indeed the clutch was dead and that all that could be done was to take the car to the local garage.
The garage, whilst being as helpful as possibl, explained that it was a bank holiday and that the car could not be repaired for at least a week. This caused consternation for our bold pair but Jack announced that he would sort it and get a hire car organised. Easier said than done on a bank holiday Friday afternoon but he rose to the challenge and, after talking to the national call centre for a large car hire firm, he was able to tell Victor that he had organised a Mondeo and that a local representative from the firm would telephone him, get some details and come to the hotel to take them to the aforesaid vehicle. The local representative did call some several minutes later to inform him that the local branch did not have any vehicles, that they would have to travel thirty miles to another branch and that they only had a smaller car.
This did not please Jack in the slightest and there followed a heated discussion about what the national centre had promised and what they could actually deliver. This culminated In Jack telling the young lady that they could stick their car and that he would organise a vehicle elsewhere. Again, easier said than done and in fact was not actually possible. There then followed a discussion of the various possibilities which boiled down to:
a). Organise transport back home with their usual shed full of tackle, most of which they never use or
b). Eat humble pie by phoning the firm again and arrange to pick up the smaller car.
It was decided that b) would be the better option and was duly done. A taxi was arranged at vast cost and the driver was quizzed as to how long it would take to pick up the car and get to the fishery as a boat had been booked for an evening session. No problem says the driver at most you will be a few minutes late. Stupendous - let’s go for it, said the pair. The taxi driver for some reason, however, had managed to forget that it was a bank holiday with the result being two hours sitting in traffic jams and turning up to the fishery some two hours late. The fishery was however very good with them, commiserating and waiving any charges as the pair did not feel like taking a boat out for a scant few hours.
So back to the hotel with the feeling that the worse was behind them and that they could get on with the job of winning the competition and that all would be well with the world.
Next day dawned and they were up with the larks and off to the fishery for a practise day. Feeling great they set up, collected their boat and set off.
Initially they only went some four or five hundred yards before starting to fish and this was lucky for them as when they tried to start the engine to go elsewhere it transpired that it was not co-operating and refused point blank to start. Jack, being in charge of the engine and having an engineering background, was exhorted to get the finger out and get it fixed.
He did not however manage this and it was decided that the engine was in fact dead and that rowing was now the order of the day. Victor then espoused:
“No problem I’m great at rowing”.
Turned out he was not, if there is only one rowlock on the boat. So while he rowed with his oar, Jack imitated a Venetian gondolier with the other. As result it took 45 minutes to get back to the jetty with no sign of a rescue boat. Staff were fetched, apologies were made and assurances given that whilst this was a most unfortunate incident it was very rare and would not happen again. Great, let’s show these fish what’s what and off they went again. After several fishless hours which Jack occasionally enlivened with the phrase
“I’ve got one, bugger it’s got off, it’s these bloody flies.”
They arrived at a very fishy looking spot and Jack decided that any normal fish would be lying tight to the bank therefore he would cast his fly there. This meant that he had to cast across Victor and during a momentary lapse of concentration he allowed his back cast to fall rather low. This resulted in Victor letting out an anguished howl as a size eight, longshank, hothead damsel pierced his ear. When he eventually quietened down enough for Jack to make himself heard he asked that Victor turn round and let him see what had happened.
Yes, he now had a damsel ear ring and it looked very fetching and what was all the moaning about as Victor had done far worse to other unfortunate fishers himself. He also noted that it was nothing to worry about as it was a barbless hook therefore it would be out in two ticks without any pain.
Jack then firmly grasped the hook and pulled. Cue more anguished howls and dripping of blood from Victor.
Jack then ventured:
“Very sorry” and that he was afraid that it was a barbed hook and did Victor want to go to hospital. Well Victor did not take this very well at all and after some cursing Jack was told to pull it out. This he did and then announced in a satisfied tone that he had been nearly right and that it was only a micro barb. Victor did not seem to think that this made much difference and sat in the huff for an hour or so whilst his ear dripped blood.
Not being one to hold much of grudge, things went back to normal and they carried on. Jack continued to fish and used the aforesaid phrase about losing fish on a regular basis whilst Victor did manage to catch two fish although Jack was rather amused that the second one was a rank stockie and had had a recent encounter with a cormorant resulting in a rather nasty gash in its flank. Fishing came to a conclusion and our gallant pair made their way to the hotel opining that they surely had used up their share of bad luck and all boded well for the competition tomorrow.
The day of the competition dawned bright and fair and our pair were at the venue in plenty of time in high spirits.
A briefing was held and they set out to a spot they had selected. It was a slow start but the engine behaved perfectly.
As they neared the end of the drift by coming up against the dam they hit a patch of fish and had four fish in the boat in as many minutes. However it was now time to move before they collided with the large rocks making up the dam wall. Victor taking his turn on the engine could not get it going and Jack had to take to the oars, no easy task with the mound of fishing gear in the middle of the boat.
He rowed for some five minutes and offered copious advice to Victor as how to sort the engine. Unfortunately this was to no avail and he had to row back to the jetty where the staff were very apologetic and arranged an engine swap to get the pair fishing again quickly.
They set out again, feeling though that their chances were indeed diminishing. They set up on the same drift again although the wind had now risen and the boat was moving faster in the larger waves. When they again arrived at the dam Victor attempted to start the new engine to be met with the same lack of success as before. Jack was very unhappy about this and although he did initially move the boat a distance from the dam he demanded that he examine the engine whilst Victor took his turn at the oars. Even with his vast knowledge he could not coax the recalcitrant beast to life, leaving Victor to row against the increasing wind. Fortunately for him a fellow competitor took pity on them and towed them back to the jetty where two staff were on hand.
Again profuse apologies but Victor was having none of it. He wanted the manager and blood. One of the gents explained that he was the manager and that he and his staff would put them quickly into a brand new fishing boat and they would lose minimal time. However steam was coming out of Victor’s ears and he was not at all happy.
Jack however got on with the job of transferring their gear with the staff keeping his back to Victor as he did not wish to witness any ugly incident taking place.
Victor on seeing his partner doing this muttered something about it not being the end of the matter, got in the boat and they made off.
However all that confidence had now gone and they had to settle for a few fish for the day with all thoughts of winning or being in the prizes having gone.
At the conclusion of the event the boat was docked and the twosome started the task of conveying their gear to the hire car. Victor was left the humiliating task of taking their pitifully few fish to the weigh in.
Whilst doing so the match organiser commiserated with him, noting that he had been going to come down to the jetty when they returned for the second time that day but on seeing Victors’ face decided that it would be better if he stayed out of it. The fishery manager then came up to Victor apologised for events and handed him an envelope with a substantial amount of money. This had effect of cheering him up considerably. So after partaking in the meal provided and cheering everyone else up with their tale of woe the pair started on the long way home.
Names and places have been changed to protect the guilty parties, the ear has scabbed up nicely and Victor has decided against any form of ear adornment, the old car still languishes in Wales awaiting a return trip by Victor.