Saturday, 23 December 2017

Does The Bell Still Ring?

Kids I've some bad news, very bad indeed. If you are expecting Father Christmas to visit you tomorrow night, then sadly you are out of luck. You see dear old Saint Nicholas is lost, he is stuck on a large reservoir in the south of England, going around and around trying to find some feeding fish.

I swam ashore yesterday, the pain was to much to bare, watching this cuddly man close to tears. His parting words to me were "I'll not come off the water until I've landed a twenty so fuck Rudolph". It looks like Easter may be out the window as well.

So kids, don't expect sweet FA. It's just one of those lessons in life in that you don't always get what you wish for. Live by that mantra and it will stand you in good stead.  

Now you simply cannot do a Christmas blog, without the presence of a Robin. This one is from a few years back while Barbel fishing. I fed him some Hi-Nu-Val but fear that to much black pepper oil was in the mix, as not long after it dropped down dead. Another lesson in life kids, do not accept things from strangers.

I'll be off fishing again in the morning, no choice really. Denise is hosting a "Prosecco Lunch" for a few friends starting at noon. The last time they had one of these was in August, it went on until midnight. Carnage, sheer carnage and the same outcome is a forgone conclusion.

Now over the years a carol has been slipped into my Christmas blog, but this year a small movie clip. Now does the bell still ring for you? Or have you lost it? Me, well it will for ever ring trust me on that. Because I'll always be a big kid, can't see myself ever growing up.

A Merry Christmas from up high on Yat Rock.

Be Lucky

Monty D

Monday, 18 December 2017

A Slight Slip

It's not often I get serious on here, try not to preach and offer advice. But after yesterday, maybe offering some advice seems pretty apt.

The river had been over the banks about a week ago, owing to the snow and rain. Scanning the EA website daily, it was running off nicely come the weekend. So yesterday morning, packing a few lures for Perch off I went. But sadly the river was still carrying far to much colour for my liking, although it was only about two feet up on it's normal winter level.

Had a Jack take a small spinner bait, so was pleased with that to avoid a blank. Roaming about, I lost my footing and had a right pearlier of a fall and ended getting a little wet, it could have been worse. You can laugh about these things now, but at the time it was not to clever. My fault really, I'd not given much thought to the under foot conditions. All the sediment and standing water had frozen, leaving the bank like an ice rink.

It got me thinking, wear a life jacket. We wear one in the boat, why not on the bank side in these adverse conditions? It may just save your life one day god forbid. Not preaching just saying!  

Ahh bless ain't they cute, having the time of there lives back in September at Chez Rocca's. Lush grass, good food and a doting owner.

Moving forward and this came into the Yat Phone today, not smiling now yer fuckers are you. Merry Christmas, don't make me laugh. Try not to wince or be offended, they were spoilt rotten and one is on route to us here at Yat Rock.

I'll be back out a couple of times this week and try not to fall in-promise.

Be Lucky

Monty D

Saturday, 9 December 2017

Burn Him

Burn him at the stake, flay the skin from his bones. Putting him on a ducking stool, the list could go on and on. For Des Taylor as many will be aware has committed the crime of the century, by taking some Grayling home for his tea. Now Des is quite a rotund kind of chap, it surprises me he took so few.

Is it right or is it wrong? I'm not overly fussed either way, but it's the sheer rage of the angling fraternity online that has made me chuckle. One comment raised a wry smile " Given that his an ambassador for the BS, he shouldn't be posting up pics of dead Grayling  his having for his tea". Now forgive me, but being an ambassador for a small single species group does not elevate you towards being an angling deity. Imagine if he posted online some Barbel that he caught and placed in a keep net. The inter web thingy would break.

You can imagine an angry internet angler calling to his wife.

"Beryl, Beryl, Des Taylor has really done it this time, he has posted a photo with some Boris in a keep net, I'm about to vent my spleen here goes."

All the while Beryl looks at you and thinks "I can't believe I married such a cunt". Yes she really is. Has no one ever laid on with a live minnow for Perch? Rigged up a live Roach for Pike. I honestly feel the anger is just the lemming like mentality, the need to belong with like minded souls and feel good about "doing something."

About ten years ago John Bailey gave a talk about Grayling fishing in Czechoslovakia at the Barbel Society show. Czech anglers cut off the dorsal fin and preserve them, then put them on show in a frame. Not a soul that day raised an eyebrow as the photos came up on the big screen. Of course things may have changed over the years. But again social media then was not so prevalent. If the same talk was given today, well fire and brimstone from the FB brigade may prevail, who really should fish more. You know get out and fish and live and let live, you know who you are. Take a look at yourselves. 

Na give him a break lads for fucks sake, stop being so precious.  


I got out last weekend with the new set up, not really what I had in mind. More small Pike that were hitting the slider. More fish missed the lure too, manged to raise one decent fish that had a look and skulked off, not to be seen for the rest of the day. Good fun all the same, always is. Highlight was watching two Common Buzzards floating around and that piercing call, great to see and hear. I just need to find some proper Pike.


How many expletives can I fit into one blog entry? Lot's, but it's shite really it really is. The bastards give you over night hope, then let you down again and again. It's not looking good.

Be Lucky

Monty D

Sunday, 26 November 2017

Doppelgangers of the Angling World Part XXXV

Without further ado I'll slip in another one of these. Below we have Mr. Magoo taking a short break from bumping into all and sundry. Am enjoyable day afloat it seems for this actor who sadly never won an Oscar. And in my opinion even to this day still does not get the recognition he deserves for his theatrical efforts.   

And below we have Mr. Jon Shoreman, seemingly lecturing Gruff about the three missed runs recently on Chew Valley. Yeah three on Chew Valley of all places, fuck me mate what a venue to balls up on. Still it will turn into a car park soon so I'm led to understand, so you can get back on the river with me. A win, win don't you think?

Treated myself this week to a new set up. A Fooler from Lumby that now has a Curado 201 K sitting on it. I've been waiting for this reel to land in the UK, to avoid those extortionate import charges from the US. It seems nice and sturdy, just need to spool it up.

I don't tend to throw many large lures, but fancied a change. In the hope of stepping the lure size up I'll get among some decent Pike in the next few weeks while out in the boat.  


Well it's not really going to plan at present, we are not batting well at all. Cook, fuck me he looks like a startled rabbit . Can't play for toffee at the crease and  these late nights and early mornings are taking it's toll on me. If my dear old Nan was alive I'm sure she would say " What have you been up to boy, your eyes look like piss holes in the snow". She would not be wrong though! Let's hope we pull out finger out and get better, as we need too.

Be Lucky

Monty D

Sunday, 19 November 2017

The "C" Word

No not that word, it's a Sunday and standards have to be kept to some extent even here at Yat Rock! Christmas yes it's on the horizon again like it or not, but I'll come back to that at the end.

My favourite time of the year to be on the river is now. You have to force yourself at times to leave a warm bed and venture out. But it is always worth it, just to feel alive. I've an itch that needs to be scratched concerning a stretch of river that to me should hold good Perch.

We the club members refer to it as "Dead Men's Arms", its a spooky old place if you have a fertile imagination. Carl and myself were discussing it a few days ago and we both have the same feel for the place. You walk around a mile or so upstream and cross through a thicket and then silence, as if the whole world is muffled.

No birdsong at all, no wildlife stirs it's just plain odd. Every step you make is magnified, like little shock waves on the ground. Trees tower over you, glowering as if you are not welcome. It may seem daft, but I'm constantly looking over my shoulder, looking for something that is not there. But for some reason, it appeals to me.

Recently I've been spending some time up here, it's a feeling you get for a stretch of water. As if you have to be proved right and that your not chasing shadows. Last winter was a failure in that it was only small Pike that showed and not one Perch. This one has set the ball rolling though for this season, not big a mid two pound fish. But I'm totally convinced it will do me a good Perch, if I fish it right. 

The crank baits have been fished differently of late, a slimmer profile lure also. As an angler I'm not driven or really focused, much preferring to just fish. But stubborn and head strong may be my forte and I'll keep going back to this place. It will do me a good one this season of that I'm sure.

The Ashes start next week, so long nights beckon tuning in to TMS. Sticking my neck out here I'm going for a series win for England 3-1. Mr. Lumb will be a bundle of nerves next week, but he has ordered two extra lumps of coal to see him through the wee small hours. We get through Brisbane unscathed then it's ours! 

Oh yeah Christmas and advent calendars. Now next year I'll be 48 but my dear old Mum has already sent me mine. Laugh if you want, but every morning a window will be opened.

But this week i chanced upon an article concerning this below. Yep it's a sex toy advent calendar, now when opening window 24 a nativity scene is a show stopper. Or even a pissed up Farther Christmas who has stacked his sledge into young Alex'es house. Oh and Alex you want the latest games consul for how much? Kev mate send him out to work, cheeky little sod.

But this, well it's just plain wrong! Is nothing sacred these days? You open window 24 and find a butt plug. Yeah nothing screams Christmas to me like a butt plug. Sorry you can shove this idea right up your arse!     

Be Lucky

Monty D

Friday, 10 November 2017

Don't Take It Personal Gruff


Mate, it's not you but them. We can all see what an all round good guy/beast you are. John Lewis missed a real trick here when they left you out.

A cuddly monster or the real thing? You Gruff a master of Chew Valley, slayer of Hampshire Avon twenty's, though most caught out of season. But then who are we to point a finger about Pike angling stroke puling. For who among our number has not bent the rules, yes you KCI in particular! The Sussex PAC are still after your blood  mate, but damn your good. Leave only foot prints and lembas bread my friend.

No John Lewis screwed right up Gruff. You are the hero, the character that children know the world over, not this impostor!

Keep the faith mate, and I'll look forward to sitting on your knee again soon, in a totally non grooming way.

Be Lucky

Monty D

Saturday, 28 October 2017

Angry Cloud

Gruff and I went out recently on a large ressie and knocked out a few fish, nothing special but enjoyable none the less.

But is there an angry demon with a gaping maw in this photo, chasing the other clouds across the sky or have i been toking to hard again?

Be Lucky

Monty D

Saturday, 7 October 2017

Perch Hole

Perch Hole that evokes a picture in my head for all the wrong reasons, as in fifteen years I've never had a Perch from here. The name comes from one of the older club members who sadly passed away a few years back.

Now "Old Man Chris" as I called him, whenever we met regaled me with tales of the huge Perch up to two pounds he caught from here in the 1970's . I've caught most other species from this pool except Perch, it's odd really.

"Old Man Chris" lived and breathed this river, he was on it seven days a week. Not always fishing, but bank walking. He was a local man, lived alone, never married and I guess looked to other anglers for company. He was eccentric, a real Bertie Wooster character and a man that every time we met made me smile. He was for ever chiding me for my inappropriate language in fact he used to wince at my tern of phrase.

Last night checking the weather forecast had me quickly change  the choice of venue, in that the wind was gusty and those little Perch plucks would be hard to feel. So a wooded area of river was chosen.

The first hour nothing, so just looking to get get a bend in the rod a long walk up to the infamous Perch Hole was made at least i'd catch some jacks as they always oblige. Sliding down the bank and getting comfortable I clipped on a Wiggle Wart, cast to the far side and started a very slow retrieve. Half way across it stopped, now fishing crank baits if it's not behaving normally, then strike as something has happened.

Rod back and I thought " Yeah a Jack first cast, so predictable" Then I caught a glimpse of the tiger like stripes. Now it matters not how many Perch I've caught over three pounds in weight, the sight of a good 'un always gets the heart racing.

Bullied into the net and a little fist pump. An old looking fish, but very welcome that tipped the scales at 3.4lb. The best one for some considerable time, I was pleased but at the same time shocked. Why today after all these years, your first Perch from here and it went over the magic three pound mark? I only fished here in the hope of a Jack or two and to get out of the wind in order to work my lures effectively.

I nicked another over two pounds and the usual Jacks, that may be a pain to some when targeting Perch, but not me. Always happy to get the rod bent in the hard cobalt conditions of winter. I would not mind locking horns with what ever had grabbed this little fella though.

Funny old game this fishing lark, you just never know. I'm sure "Old Man Chris" will be looking down and would love to say "Told you so Jason".

Cheers Chris.

Be Lucky

Monty D

Sunday, 24 September 2017

Things To Do When Your Pissed

A little tip here from me, when your pissed up you may do the following.

1.Eat a kebab with extra chilli sauce.

 2.You may sleep with someone and wake up the next day and think who are you? But it's all good as you were pissed.

3. Send texts of a lewd nature to your wife, but in error you send them to your Mum, this happened to my younger brother the dope.

4. Buy tackle online and when it arrives you do not have a clue as to what you have ordered.

I could go on, as all the above are OK because your were pissed, well not the text message to your Mum fuck me!

But do not come back from a golf society day, well oiled as you had won. Then you show your short game to the wife, while she is watching "Strictly".

A chip that went eschew, smashed into the television resulting in this.

That led to this....

Denise "You total an utter prick, when your sober you, yes you are paying for a new one"
Me " Yeah sorry babe, feel a right plank."

So the next day I went online and this now hangs on the wall.

A bloody expensive piss up after golf that was. And to rub salt into the wounds I hardly watch the fucking thing.

 Off to Grafham Water next week with Gruff, so popped down to Farlows in the week while at work. I had a gift voucher left over from last Christmas, good job I did as this little lot would have set me back nearly seventy pound.

Be Lucky

Monty D

Saturday, 16 September 2017

When You Take Mates Fishing

Do you not just hate it? That pressure of a guest on your club water, the sheer dread of blanking when they have driven around the M25 to be bored senseless by me. Recently Karl popped over from Kent for a day on a local beat.

Now this lad loves his JDM gear and he can fish too. We looked at a stretch of water I'm hoping to organise a little charity bash on in November. But after an hour we moved, he was not "feeling it". It's not looking good at present, needs a flush through, but the potential is their. Carl, the local Carl and possibly the only Corbyn fan in Surrey recently took a nice 3.6 Perch with two back up high 2's in a couple of hours. Shame the fuckers an out and out "Wolfie". God we clash over our politics, but do not fall out and that in itself speaks volumes.

But Karl wanted to move, his your guest so you do it. It proved a good move as he knocked out some sprightly Jacks and a couple of Chub, the largest Chub measured (yep he is from Hungary) 50Cm. Silly bugger has the photo's on his camera and has not sent them on.

I chipped in with a Jack and two small Chub of around two pound or so. I've fished with a few lads from Eastern Europe in the last three years and it's interesting how they go about lure fishing. I've learnt loads, but clearly not enough.

But then it went a little pear shaped.

Karl" Let's have a throw with your new Megabass"
Me  "Yeah here you go mate"

Rod swept back, whoosh a lure in the tree and this backlash that took the daft bugger half an hour to pick out. I've never had one that bad-honest, thanks mate. On a very serious note I could  never be an angling guide the sheer pressure you must be under? To hide your earnings from the Tax Man, must be arduous and yes you know who you are.

I've not looked on Fatwa for ages, but I received t this text into the Yat Phone recently.

A thread entitled "Tips For Cabbages, have a look Monty"

Now this is not politically correct, but a lad was asking about the above. My first thought was..... You came to the right forum mate, the place is awash with the fuckers! Don't shoot the messenger I'm not the only one who laughed!

If this comes around again, go see it.

Last weekend Denise and I went to the Wyndham Theatre to watch Audra McDonald perform as Billie Holliday in Lady Day at Emmerson's Bar and Grill.

Based on a true story, four months  before her death in 1959. It's set in a bar that "Lady Day" walked into blind drunk with her dog, then she simply staggers out again after singing four songs in front of nine people. But you the audience, get to see "Lady Day" tell her story with artistic licence, courtesy of the scriptwriters in how she would liked to have been remembered, for all her faults. And god knows we all have them.

It is in parts funny, raw and moving. And if you close your eyes the magnificent Audra Mcdonald really could be Lady Day. Please go see it, if you have the chance. To hear Strange Fruit live, moved Denise to tears.

Be Lucky

Monty D

Saturday, 2 September 2017

The Bane of my Life

Recently Gruff and myself as well as a few others have been out afloat on a couple of large reservoirs. And it has been double hard, first Bewl and then Weirwood last weekend. Bewl was OK as we boated a few fish, none big but sport is sport.

Last weekend was a tough as old boots, in that Weirwood had an algae bloom, it was so green it would not have looked out of place sloshed all over a "Double, Double" with chilli vinegar and black pepper.

I think a handful of fish came to the boat among twenty anglers. The finder on our boat was showing fish from nine feet down, all the way until thirty six feet. But apart from Gruff losing a decent Perch that was as good as it got to our boat. But it's a good crack, Gruff and I get on. That's important if your in a boat all day with someone, fuck me he needs a Knighthood to put up with me! Imagine sharing a boat with Ray Winstone off his face and then you get me, peas in a pod.

Then I moved back onto our local rivers. Been doing a little of bit of thinking about the lack of Perch last season. Early last year, my goal was to fish crankbaits more or less for the full nine month term. Give or take the odd sabbatical, just to scratch an itch. On here it's been mentioned over and over it's a method that I enjoy most.

But, this method looking back is a dinner bell to every Jack in the river. May as well turn up, wack up a fluorescent sign on the river bank that reads " Hey Pike, Piss Monty off, all you can eat for a jacks".

So a little change of plan, switch to and whisper it, use once more S@@t P@@@@@@s. Sure I'm taking the piss, but to do this I needed another rod. So I bought very recently another baitcasting number from my mate Karl.

Armed with just a few shads and sticks, I've been having a few more Perch again. All small, the three pound fish from a few years back may have died away. Pointless fishing worms (spit), until the winter as I know the Crayfish are rampaging  with aplomb, turning grown men to jelly. Still plenty of Jacks, but's it's got my mind ticking over as to how to adapt, complacent most defiantly. As we have been royally spoilt with cracking Perch fishing over time. Perhaps I'll find some more good ones as the season moves on?

Right the bane of my fucking life, this lot. Not just these, but the others that breed like rats in the kitchen at home. Are all women as bad as my wife. I like a bit of Hummus, some olives and a flat bread as a light snack. You finish the pot and throw it in the bin and then this.....

Denise" Don't throw that away Jase, it may come in handy"
Me "What are you fucking sure?"
Denise" Give it here I'll wash it up"

Now the bottom cupboard is where these bastards live. Now you know what ever size box you are looking for, you will not find the correct size lid, am I right or am I right? Over the years, they scheme, move about in the cupboard at night.

Last week I walked up to the said cupboard and heard......... "Don't going into the light Monty, don't go into the light" I caught a glimpse out of the corner of my eye of some fat medium from an 80's horror movie.

I crept up to the cupboard door and could hear a low rumbling sound, like a mini avalanche. Opened it up and was swamped up to my fucking knees in plastic. And she said.....

"That must be you, it never happens when I open it"

Women eh?

Be Lucky

Monty D

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

Wednesday, 8 March 2017

Tackle Tart? Moi?

This little beauty arrived far, far quicker than expected. So it will get an outing this Saturday, for a few hours before we hopefully bury Scotland in the Rugby, more to life than fishing especially when the slam is on again. Against a resurgent Scottish side, should be a corker and hammering that lot would be superb.

6' 3", one peice, casting weight of between a quarter of an ounce and half an ounce. It's been a many a year since I worried about those weights, but you have to grow up one day. It was in a sale from these guys here.

It looks like I got the last one in stock. Did I need yet another rod, well no. But like others I've not got young children, a large mortgage etc. Denise and I both work, what she spends on 'effing shoes could keep me in rods for life. It's a constant stream of deliveries that makes the late Imelda Marcos seem thrifty.

Only downside was the import duty, the robbing bastards. Just shy of £75.00! A proper piss take, though I've seen a rather tarty reel, that has drawn my attention to sit upon this in the near future.The import duty on that has the potential to really sting.

Have a look here.

The  river season still has a few days left in it. But the zealots have well and truly jumped the gun this time! I know it's one of Bob Roberts favourite bug bares, every time this topic raises it's ugly head. But Christ alive, this lot are a law unto themselves. You will need to drag and drop on the links, if you're so inclined.

Be Lucky

Monty D

Tuesday, 28 February 2017

A Face Made For Radio ?

No not mine that will come at the end of the blog. A few of us have been out the last few weeks, with the intention of just having fun. Do you remember that? No targets, no aims or objectives just to have a laugh and bank a few fish. Fish how you want kind of stuff, you get older and  waking up at 0430 for work during the week the last thing many of us need is goals to achieve on your day off. Ok I'm lying, if I don't get a least one Perch this season over four pounds, then I'm a proper wanker. So we have been Jack bashing with small cranks.

Do not however, invite this man over to join you. Let's call him Karl, he is the LAS magazine art director. But he has a passion for JDM gear, now I like my tackle with bespoke rods built over the years from Lumby, Barder, Marty at Wye Valley ect,ect. We fished together last weekend, the wind put paid to our Perch fishing and those tiny plucks. You're supposed to throw your lures in the wet stuff, not have it blown back behind you. So we had good sport with Jacks and it was a giggle, raker rash and airborne tail walking. Karl had two set up's with him a nice Megabass cranking stick and a very nice Evergreen model. Mmmm, it's been on my mind since Saturday after using his cranking stick. Last night I pulled the trigger and ordered a Megabass Tomahawk from Japan, a little naughty I guess? But why not, I don't piss it all up the wall as in years gone bye. You only live once etc, so yeah do it. A proper bad influence is the man.

Here be the face for radio. My angling hero, Mr Gruff down on Chew the other week, move over Matt and Mick your time is up. Step forward the Shoreman and Gruff the care homes heartthrobs.

Good luck on the Broads this week though treacle.

Be Lucky

Monty D

Tuesday, 10 January 2017


Trust me you do not want this little bastard, Campylobacteriosis. Around the sixth of December I had a bad case of the shits for around five days, real the world falling out of your arse kind of stuff. One minute I was fine, then the shivers started so I went to bed. Come midnight was the start of five days of making sweet love to my shit house then it went. Hooray, just as well as Denise and I went away for three nights the weekend prior to Christmas.

We came back and so did the shits, but worse this time. Full on stomach cramps, shitting blood, real dark blood too. That was not mentioned to Denise at the time as it would have meant a trip to A&E. I phoned the local Doctors and no appointments were  available, but they could give me a telephone consultation. That done a stool sample was required. If you have never scooped a stool sample, into a stool pot from the comfort of your own privy, well you have not lived. It's akin to juggling in a gimp suit.

To cut a long story short, my results arrived back last week owing to the Christmas holidays. And the result were the above. I've lost over a stone in weight, but feel much, much better now. The cause? Well maybe from food? Or maybe from infected water? It made me think, when fishing and before having a snack, use the bloody antibacterial hand gel that is in the rucksack in future. It scared the life out of me at one stage, using Google to research your symptoms while awaiting your results can lead to a mind fuck. Don't do that, ever!

Managed a couple of very short trips on the bank, that left me feeling shattered after a couple of hours. Plenty of Pike fun on medium sized crankbaits, to keep the rod bending. Saturday week Gruff and I are off to Grafham reservoir for the day, let's hope the fishing picks up, as its fishing rock hard at present we are told. Fingers crossed.

This came into the Yat phone the other day, how true is this? The world and his brother seem to stride the river, canals and lakes at present like an extra from Tron! You need to be of a certain age to remember that out and out gem. Still shits on the latest Star Wars franchise, in my ever so humble opinion. Some good Youtube channels and Paul Bosworth's still leads the way for me. He can laugh at himself and to me that is what fishing should be, a piss take, a laugh. Catch a few, loose a few but just go and do it.

As you were.

Be Lucky

Monty D