The Alternative Angler

Never mind smelling the flowers, don’t forget to take time out to see the satirical side of fishing life and grab a laugh along the way as well. So here’s a regular column from Kevin Perkins to remind us that life is for laughing at, or taking the p*** out of, whenever we can.

This week’s article is at the request of FM member Dave Johnson and his charming wife. He tells me his good lady likes a laugh. Well that is patently obvious – look who she married! (See, I can do sarcasm!)

Dave, in regard your question, my wife isn’t really interested in the content of the articles I write, merely the revenue they bring in. All of which goes towards the upkeep of her Maserati. Before other irate FM contributors besiege Graham, I merely tell my wife that is where the extra money comes from.

In truth, by night, while my wife thinks I am out walking the dog, I am plying my trade as a gigolo. This was all brought about by a mistake at the printers. I was looking to make some extra cash as a handyman, and was going to call myself ‘Bob the Job’ after a certain children’s’ cartoon character. The cards which were printed up and distributed to newsagents and telephone boxes are headed –

‘Ladies, ever wanted a handy man around your house? You need Bob a Job’.

You have got no idea what I have to do to earn a quid, usually dressed only in waders and a toolbelt and that’s how I started my sordid career as an ‘On the Game’ fisherman.

Oops, sorry, I’ve got my wires crossed. This should be an article about Game Fishing!

Back on the correct subject matter, we will go straight to the very top, with the Huntin’, Shootin’, Fishin’ brigade. The aristocracy has strict rules and regulations as to the acceptable way to go about game fishing to ensure that it is carried out in a sporting manner.

Lets start with salmon. We should, of course, make sure we get the correct pronunciation, which at this social level is ‘Flea Fishing’. Then there is a regional variation in Scotland where this becomes ‘Flea Fushing’, because in Scotland they go angling for ‘Fush’, apparently.

To begin you will need a sixteen-foot long, £ 650 double-handed rod with a label on it that says ‘House of Hardy’ otherwise you’re not even going to be allowed on the bank. You will be escorted to your beat by the Ghillies (sounds painful!) You will need to be able to ‘Spey’ cast, which just means lifting the line from the water and laying it out again.

You will be trying to catch a fish which doesn’t eat when it enters freshwater, on a beat where the owner charges you hundreds of pounds to fish, but carries out no re-stocking whatsoever.

You are also allowed to spin for salmon with a Devon minnow. This is indeed a very efficient little lure. Very efficient, that is, in imparting more twist into your line than you could by connecting it up to the chuck of a Black and Decker drill.

Or you could try fishing with prawns, but only after they have been dyed every unnatural shade imaginable. Where salmon have ever seen primary colours like that before is beyond me, unless there is a waste outfall from the Play-Doh factory discharging far out to sea.

I think when it comes to salmon fishing it is the angler who appears to be fair ‘game’

The more genteel world of trout fishing is split into two camps, the traditionalists and the fluff flingers. The traditionalists will be found on the chalk streams with their dry flies, nymphs and gnats. House of Hardy tackle is still de rigueur, but you can just about get away with Orvis. This is a world of parachute hackles, double tapered lines, entomology, Jungle Cock (not going to go there!) and evening rises (not going there either!). Their spiritual leader is the legendary JR Hartley, the retired jam maker. Dress code is obligatory deer-stalker and tweed jacket. Your spare casts and flies must be carried in a wicker creel, and if you are ever, ever, caught casting even slightly downstream you will be forever labelled a cad and a bounder. Finally, most of this type of fishing appears to be done in soft focus, judging by the pictures I see.

Then we have the Fluff Flingers, they will use any possible method short of dynamite to obtain a limit bag in the shortest possible time. Tackle make is immaterial; Argos complete fly fishing sets will do just fine, or at a push they will put up with Badger gear. Fly selection isn’t too critical either as the fly will be stripped back so fast it will just be a blur. It must be weighted though, so that it lands on the water with a ‘plop’ imitating that most natural of insect behaviour, the alighting trout pellet.

They can only cast where there is 30 yards of clear space behind them, but if there is a small bush within 50 yards they will hook it. Their tackle (Tesco) bag will contain another Tesco bag to take their limit bag home in, and will also contain their variation of ‘priest’ which will take the shape of anything that might do the job. Could be a chair leg, half a house brick, and on one occasion I did see the handle of a plastic marrow spoon being pressed into service – not very effectively. Fortunately they don’t carry bank sticks or I am sure they would come in very handy.

These people are most definitely single species trout fishermen, wouldn’t dream of using the fly gear for anything else other than to fill the freezer. So far removed are they from ‘Game’ anglers, that they really should have their own separate, named branch of the sport.

How about ‘Reservoir Clods’?