Saturday, 29 July 2017

Doppelgangers of the Angling World Part XXXIV

Jesus the last one of these was way back in February 2015, where on earth does the time go? So I thought I'd better pull my socks up and get a new one up.

Below we have Bingo from the Banana Splits, looking like he has fallen on hard times. Slumming it on the river Trent, cheek by jowl with "Carbellers", bonfires, takeaway food detritus and empty stellar cans by the dozen. How the mighty have  fallen, one minute your a superstar of the 1970's, tooting grade "A" charlie and girls by the dozen, you blink and your on the scrap heap.  




Below we have Alex Dalton, looking a little like he has been on the crack pipe, real fucked up mandingo.




My fishing so far this season? Not much to shout about to be honest, plenty of small Pike and small Chub caught on lures and a few Perch, no big Perch as of yet. In truth the Chub fishing has kept me entertained. One day they are like Kamikaze pilots, the next trip out spooky as hell. It is to me utterly absorbing. Perhaps more fishy photos are needed for the blog? But unlike in the past not an awful amount of effort goes into this now. Just as and when.




Really looking forward to the Autumn though, a couple of trips to Grafham Water in September are on the cards and Pitsford in October. Then focus on the big Perch on my local venues, they are still very overgrown at present. And moving along the river and finding areas to cast a line is tough.

It's August next week and I've yet to come across another angler thus far apart from opening day, very odd. I know Gruff, The Dutchman and Roger The Perv( who has popped up after being missing for ten long years, presumed dead) are all under the thumb. But surely not all anglers our way have no bollocks and cow tow to the wife?


Be Lucky

Monty D  

Friday, 23 June 2017

A National Treasure

A term used far to often in my opinion, but after the sad news today I'll jump on the band wagon! Henry Calthorpe Blofeld, or just simply "Blowers" to his many legions of fans is hanging up the microphone after a whopping 45 years covering TMS.

Now I must confess that I'm no expert Cricket statistician, but I simply adore TMS and this man for me is the voice of Cricket, not unlike that late Sir Peter  O'Sullevan who was the voice of racing for many.

I've always enjoyed sport on the radio, be it Cricket, Boxing, Golf et al. To me it's far more intimate than the TV. Blowers himself today described TMS as "company" and I suppose it is for many. Before I met Denise I did not own a TV, she was incredulous when we spoke about it.

She asked " What do you do in the evenings?"

I replied "Masturbate".

In that instant I knew we would marry. The look of love in her eyes, or was it disgust? Sold it too me? Even now I seldom watch TV, on my lap top and listening to the radio is my thing, while she watches East Enders. She is supposed to be the brains of the outfit, seeing that her work is Psychology, while I'm just a barra boy. But Radio 4, or a group of people shouting at each other, I win hands down surely.






A guy I work with today, our brief conversation went like this.

Me " Tom did you hear Blowers is hanging up the Mic"

Tom" Yes mate, but I prefer Sky Sports coverage over TMS"

Me" Call yourself English? Just Fuck off".

A bit near the mark, but even though I've smoothed off some rough corners over the years I'll not change. As my Mum says. " You can take the boy out the East End, but you can't take the East End out the boy". Very true.





TMS is indeed very special to many people and not just for the Cricket, it's life's observations and humour. It's like Cream Tea's, Summer Fetes, Morris Dancing and Warm Beer all rolled into one and much more besides.

Blowers, you will be missed. Simply thank you!

Be Lucky

Monty D

Saturday, 17 June 2017

Plug Monkey

Yeah that's me a plug monkey, love to use them. Soft plastics may catch me more fish, but fishing that way can send a glass eye to sleep. Yesterday was a last minute change of plan. The stretch I intended to fish was full of old boys, dozing off and waiting for the 'Pin to scream into life, chatting about the halcyon days of Adams Mill and how much they hate Otters.

Went to my Perch stretch, but after ten minutes it did not feel right. I could not settle, don't ask me why. Thinking about where to go, I yomped up to a weir pool that has not seen me cast a line into it for around eight years.

Difficult to access and not the most comfortable place to fish. It's a snag pit, so decided to use small shallow diving plugs. Had a great six hours sport for an opening day that often leads to disappointment.


I managed  six Jacks and four Chub, only the one fished photographed for blog purposes as you are fishing standing on three rocks. You need to slide down the bank to access this, so unhooking the fish in the water and slipping them back is the way to go. Climbing up and down is a no, no. And it's certainly not an area to fish in the wet. Trust me I've been in here before when there was a few feet on, not something that I would like to experience again.

Now Pike, are they thick? They just nail the lure, bosh way back down the throat. I did have a low double launch itself clean out of the water to my left, miss the lure and tail walk. Like I said thick. Chub on the other hand can be mind bending, four Chub landed, but loads missed. Very gentle takes, some mouthing the lure not unlike Carp with crust, then turning away. Perhaps closing my eyes is the way to go, stop watching the lure and wait for a bang. No fun in that though, happy enough with the day it was good to be back out.




I dropped a right bollock in the week. Last Saturday the day was spent listening to the Cricket and England through to the semifinal against Pakistan. Now tomorrow is Fathers Day and we were supposed to go and visit  Denise's parents for lunch. But the Cricket final is also tomorrow, so confident was I of beating Pakistan on Wednesday I said "I'll do a BBQ babe, get them all around here". And then we fucking lost. So now I'll be cooking Jerk Chicken, Jerk Pork and the whole shebang for sweet FA.

It's going to be a scorcher tomorrow, so I thought slipping this tune in would be apt. One of the best political songs of all time in my opinion.

Jah Bless.    




Be Lucky

Monty D

Sunday, 7 May 2017

Work Party's

How many of us attend the above? Come on seriously how many of you get out of bed at the weekend to help get the river looking good for the start of the new season?  Today we had the grand total of three. Yeah fucking three members gave up some time to do a little pruning, cut back branches etc so the lazy wankers would not moan about poor access.

Last season one member requested a refund as in his words " The banks are so overgrown they are a disgrace". This from a club member who has never attended a work party in his life. It really pisses me off that anglers moan, but offer up fuck all help.

Me, well over grown is good. It offers better opportunities for stalking, for those of us who like to roam. If you as an angler don't want nasty stinging nettles, or god forbid brambles, then fuck off to a little hole in the ground. Sit on your latest five hundred pound seat box and pull out Carp that look like they have been raped by Freddie Kruger.

We did Gruff and I, plus Ivan Mark's love child  spot some very nice Chub. I got in and managed to retrieve some badly cast lures from last winter. We did a good mornings work and had a laugh.  






Bit of a rant, well then yes. What ever club you belong to, do not moan and groan if you expect every thing to look peachy. But leave it to others! Wankers!

On a well known Pike angling forum, the subject of various forms of art has raised its head. Some like modern art. My favourite is Van Gogh and a copy of "Boots" hangs in our front room. It reminds me of my old man when he used to come home from Smithfield Meat Market and leave his boots in the porch. I like Van Gogh's work  in what is known as his Brown Period, thanks Lumby ;-0. But also with the copy that hangs at home, I look upon it and wonder who wore them and what story their life was. Hey it's not all swearing here you know!



Lastly S***s, have that you fuckers!


Be Lucky

Monty D

Tuesday, 18 April 2017

Oi Love

"Fancy taking a trip away from Sandbanks me old treacle?"

"Where to this time, you money grabbing, bung taking wrong'un?"

"Errr, well Buurmingham love, yow know Kippa Tie, Bull Ring, Moxy et al"

"Hahh maccch"

"A good screw, trust me a good screw"

"Oh go on then, small pleasures, small treasures that's 'ow the story goes"


Who's this being hawked around the managerial play ground?






Yep, classy as ever.

I'd do anything, for a pannd note anything....


You could not make it up. I'll get back to fishing soon, but fishing always is sooo boring as a blog. To me it is anyway.


Be Lucky

Monty D

Saturday, 15 April 2017

Spanish Road Trip

I've been more or less offline recently owing to my old lap top giving up the ghost after seven long years of service. Mainly keeping abreast with the online world via my phone, until today when a new machine was purchased in the Easter sales.

This little tale came into the Yat phone recently............

So out of the goodness of your heart, you decide to take two friends to your property in Spain for a week, to fish for Barbel and Black Bass.You land safely and make your way to the hire car, now the hire car was backed up tight to a wall. The angelic property owner and Spanish fishing guru jumped in and moved the car forward so his two friends could load the luggage into the boot. Job done and he asked "Are we all loaded and good to go?" "Yep lets go".

Two hundred miles later, they arrive at their destination .On unloading the car a slight problem, only two suitcases. The other was no where to be seen."Where is my fooking case?" Two friends and I use the term loosely looked at each other in shock. The main mans case was left back at Madrid airport! Luckily a spare set of keys is left in a local bar, so the guests could get in.

The main man then drives 200 miles back to Madrid airport, fuming as his passport, cash, other set of keys are in his case. Alas the case is gone(belly laugh when I was told), so our chum spent the night on a bench outside lost property. Now lost property opened at 0700 Hrs, the shutter went up and the Spaniard was on it like a shot. Thankfully he got everything back, he then drives 200 miles back the other way. After having about 30 minutes sleep in the past 24 hours, then the two thick fookers who are guests wanted to go fishing. I would have thrown the pair in the fooking river!




I wonder who it could have been?

Be Lucky

Monty D

Saturday, 11 March 2017

Pay The River Man

I'm not sure about you, but I do not measure my life in birthdays, or the calendar year. For me it's always been that nine month stretch. One minute it's opening day, you blink and it's over.

Six hours today in seemingly ideal conditions, resulted in a blank. No follows, no signs of fish. Three miles or so of river travelled, back and forth  and nowt. Why, well if I knew the answer to that I'd have a Youtube channel preaching to the masses. Flogging lures, line and christ knows what else, sitting in a Yoda like stance and making a mint.

But overall it's been a cracking season. Some good fish have hit the net, had some right laughs afloat with Gruff. Fuck me, every time we went out the weather was jank. An long may it continue, the laughter and general piss taking among a group of mates. No pretensions of being a superstar. It's a hobby to most of us, not an outlet for an ego and a lifestyle choice, rod in your mouth photo anyone?

The old boy is looking a little tired as of now, he could do with a break. Time to breath, talk in the ancient Entish language, without the likes of me, ripping off his branches while retrieving badly cast lures and fuck me I'm gold standard at that discipline.





So I packed up and came home, fishless but unbowed.


But as always at the end of my angling season I paid the river man. I'm sure it's not only me who does this. You owe him, for all the enjoyment over the last nine months. You throw your pound coin in, salute your adversary. I've tried to love canals and lakes, really have. But my heart belongs to flowing water, I'm lucky in that I seldom see a soul when out and long shall that remain.


Be Lucky

Monty D