At The NEC

The show was either pretty good or awful depending on what youwere looking for. If your main purpose was to buy cheap tackle thenyou probably went away disappointed for there was not a great deal ofchoice. The Doncaster ‘show’ was better if you’re not bothered aboutanything other than cheap, mainly outdated, tackle.

There were lots of anglers at the NEC, young and older alike, whoenjoyed meeting their angling heroes such as Matt Hayes and DesTaylor. Thousands enjoyed the demonstrations, the forums and theexhibitions. To them and many others it may have been an excellentshow.

The NEC show was never meant to be a glorified car boot sale,which summed up the Doncaster show. It was meant to be a showcase forangling tackle and talent, and in that respect I reckon it didn’t dotoo badly. From the comparatively little effort I personally put intoit I know just how much work goes into staging the event.

What made it for me was meeting all the FISHINGmagic members who, until now, had been no more than faces or names on the forum.

The choice is simple. If you want to see an angling show, go to the NEC. If you want to buy a very limited choice of cheap gear, go to Doncaster. Somewhere in between lie shows like the Chatsworth Game Fair. Alan Roe’s comments below probably sum it up best “…….likethe proverbial curate’s egg…..good in parts.”

An Alternative View from Alan Roe

Dawn broke with a horrible crash. As the 6am alarm started to letout the most appalling noises I stumbled out of bed and stubbed mytoe as I tried to turn the blasted thing off. Silently I swore at mythrobbing foot and outside a blackbird started to clear its wheezythroat ready for the dawn chorus. It was probably annoyed that myalarm clock had woken it early from its slumbers.

The shower was in one of its more playful moods alternatingbetween freezing and boiling at random. As I stood within itsmalevolent grip I contemplated what I was doing, and why.

The previous day I had, in a moment of weakness, succumbed to therequest from an old friend, Dave, who has recently been enrolled inthe massed ranks of the Professional Anglers Association. He asked meto join him on the journey down to the NEC and to spend the day atthe show. He had a meeting of the fledgling PAA to attend therein. Iagreed to do so as it would be a day out and there being no rivertrout fishing due to the current foot and mouth epidemic. So I dulybooked my ticket and gave my word that I would go.

That evening I gleefully informed ‘she who must be heard andobeyed’ that I was going to the show and that I would be away for theday. At this point she uttered those dread words “It’s my weekend forworking, you will have to take the kids with you”. I must havevisibly wilted. My escape plan had been foiled! Mere words cannotdescribe the wicked little glint in her eye as she savoured themoment. “Oh I’m sure that you’ll enjoy it.” She said, with only theslightest hint of a cackle in her voice.

At 7am my car is starting its progress down that vast car parkknown as the M6. With me was Dave, happy that someone else wasdriving. Jennifer, my 14 year old daughter, was determined that I payfor getting her up in the morning. She is a female equivalent of aHoover being attached to your wallet. Time was she was a promisingyoung angler until hormones got in the way and it’s now uncool to beseen out with parents unless they are buying!

Nathaniel, my 9 year old lad, dozed in the back of the car. He isthe world’s greatest exponent of giving his parents the slip andgetting lost at every opportunity. He also has that magic touch thatsmall boys seem to be gifted with – everything he touches seems tofall apart!

Two hours later we arrive at the NEC, having successfully dodgedthe usual hazards of the M6 including speed cameras and thecollection of the homicidal and suicidal who are forever doomed tohaunt Britain’s roads.

It was time for the first rude awakening of the day.

“How much for the parking?”

“Five pound sir.” Was the reply.

Choke! Cough! Faint! I had forgotten the NEC policy of making theshow entrance fee look reasonable when compared to the parking fees!Dave came to my rescue and paid the fee before my wallet attackbecame terminal. That was a narrow escape!

As I queued on the stairs with countless others I mused, not forthe first time, on the popularity of shaven heads, multiple ear-ringsand tattoos as fashion statements of my brothers of the angle. Agoodly number appeared to be able to drag their knuckles on theground as they walked.

I realised why the antis hadn’t turned up to demonstrate againstthis lot, as most of them would have saved energy by eating the antisraw!

A local press smudger was desperately trying to get us all tosmile and wave for the camera. The 7ft, 25 stone lovely in front ofme saved me having to bother with this activity as I wouldn’t havebeen seen anyway.

My daughter ducked behind me just in case any of her friends eversaw her being in such an uncool place. Dave gave a toothless grin ashis dentures were playing him up and he had slipped them into histrouser pocket.

Pictures taken and the fodder that is known as the paying publicwere at last allowed the privilege of entering the hall. In thisplace, we were led to believe the whole of the tackle trade werewaiting with bated breath to show us the new and wondrous wares thatwould astound and enthral us.

The reality was a little different; it was nice to see some of thelarger companies making a return, though there were many notablestay-aways amongst the larger companies. Many of the well known gameangling manufacturers were notable by there absence, which this yearmay well be a mistake as their normal preferred haunts of the gamefair circuit shows are in grave danger of not happening with majorquestion marks hanging over Chatsworth and the CLA Game Fair thisyear.

On the positive side it is nice to see the old stalwarts ofangling still treading the boards.

Bob Nudd, John Wilson, Charles Jardine, Julian Cundiff, Bob Jamesand all the others that I haven’t mentioned, its good to see you allstill working hard promoting angling.

Those who spent the day attending the forums will have had somegood value advice and teaching and I suspect that they will have gonehome the happiest of the attendees.

I would like to thank the very pleasant chap from Korda who gaveme a good half hour of his time in the afternoon teaching me, anon-carp angler, all about the rigs used in this branch of the sport.All of this information and understanding I intend to put to good usein the near future. I learned more in that half an hour about theprinciples behind the rigs than I would have believed possible.

It didn’t take long for my two little darlings to break out theirtrue colours.

True to form, Nathaniel disappeared with near monotonousregularity causing me a near panic attack on each occasion. I spenthalf the morning charging around the hall looking for him. Every timeI looked round, there he was – gone!

Eventually the lights came on in my head and I had a stroke ofgenius.

Number one son was dispatched with his big blue eyes blond hairand most winning smile to blag a helium-filled balloon from one ofthe pretty ladies who was in charge of a stall. This he did with hisusual ease, the balloon was attached to him and he was handed thespare mobile phone as a back up just in case.

At last I could start to relax a little as he bobbed off lookinglike a livebait towing a pilot float!

Eventually we came to the FISHINGmagic stand. There was GrahamMarsden looking all innocent, one of his aides (they’ll love that!- Graham) whispered that he was relaxed as he had forgotten tobring his wallet and wouldn’t have to buy a round.

Relaxation was about to be changed to fear….Nathaniel hadfound the laptop that was running the hi-tech display on thewall.

Too late came the cry!! The page that had been displayed on thewall was replaced by a blank screen. The small boy magic touch hadstruck again.

Graham and the team take a collective deep breath and are still inshock after a visit by Nathaniel…note the blank screen on thewall!

Damage done we slipped away into the crowds leaving theFISHINGmagic team to recover from the long-term psychological traumathat our visit will have caused. I hope that the counselling workschaps!

As we went round I noticed that some wag had allocated the Barbelsociety and SACG adjoining stands. Given the recent discussions thathave taken place over various Internet site threads betweenrepresentatives of the two groups I was surprised to note the lack ofbarbed wire and machine gun nests!

Soon it was to become the turn of my darling daughter, she hadbeen circling around the retail village like a shark. Now my walletwas to become the prey!

Big brown eyes and a pout that would have melted the hearts ofmillions were wasted on this case-hardened parent. I had to think,and fast! Get it right and I would only lose a small fortune, get itwrong and I would be destitute. In the event I came out of it fairlywell with only a visible dent in the wallet instead of a completeemptying. But it had been a close call!

Socially I had a good time. I got to meet quite a few of thepeople that I had only ever known on the net and all of them turnedout to be nice folk and I am looking forward to taking up an offer togo in search of some big bream a little later in the year.

The show will have been of the greatest disappointment to thosewho where hoping to pick up a bargain. I wasn’t going with a view tobuying any tackle as for now, at least, I have enough.

However I did the rounds of the retail village out of morbidcuriosity and was saddened to note that there really were few if anyreal bargains. Most of the prices I saw were about the same as seenin the mock discount adverts seen in the angling press.

I would imagine that this aspect of the show will have sent manyhome with a bad taste in their mouths and the feeling that in someway that they have not had their needs met. This, in my view, willnot bode well for next year.

Doubtless the weekly angling press will trumpet the whole show ashaving been a great success and will completely ignore the obviousshortcomings of the event.

Many people will hear the mutterings of the dissatisfied and thismay well happen to reach a larger audience over the Internet.

The truth is that the whole event is best described as being likethe proverbial curate’s egg…..good in parts.

On the way home Jennifer played her ace card and a trip to thedreaded Burger King took place, at which point she reminded me aboutMother’s Day being the following day.

Curses!! I was trapped and another bout of retail therapyfollowed. It may have saved my life but I am again in penury.

What’s that I hear? My medication is ready? Vallium tonight.

Coming Nurse!