I have in mind those who call a spade a spade, describe someone’s failure as what it is, and never refer to it as ‘deferred success.’ And they would definitely never ever even remotely dream of referring to a rubbish tip as a ‘solid waste landfill reclamation facility’
Trev is one such. I first got to know him a couple of years ago. He bailiffs for a club I am a member of, and I see him regularly at Cowpat Lake, one of the prime waters controlled by the Piddlebridge Angling Society. Sometimes I think I would be driven insane by the constant barrage of sheer nonsense and politically correct terminology of positively Orwellian dimensions we are fed in the media, if it was not for the likes of Trev keeping us sane, that is.
Trev tells it like it is, and good for him, say I. He is a countryman by upbringing. Here he relates a recent heated encounter he and a colleague had with a well-heeled, rather busybody ex-suburban couple recently moved to the area…
‘…well anyway me and my mate were out in the field culling a few pigeons last week there’s a glut of the bloody things and they do a lot of damage and cause a load of mess shitting everywhere and carrying disease and whatnot so there we were banging away shot a fair few too then along comes this couple just bought a big place in the area all dressed in really posh clothes waxed bloody jackets that looked like they were new like straight off the shop peg all perfect like and glistening and new wellies and leather floppy hats and looking like a dog’s dinner both of them and he says all posh like we really must protest at all this killing – killing what do you know about killing says Dean you ought to take a trip down the slaughterhouse mate then you’d see how what ends up on your plate actually gets there or are you a pair of bloody vegetarians or vegans or some bloody thing then…
…we really must ask you to stop slaughtering those lapwings he says in his stupid fruity voice all stuck up then his wife pipes up such pretty birds and so rare oh how could anyone…what lapwings then? says my mate… they’re lapwings says this silly little sod again you’ve already shot ten of them such a senseless waste he says like the stupid little brainless twit he is with his wife piping up non-stop now both of them acting as if they own the bloody place know what I mean…
…so by now Dean was really spoiling for one and looked as if he was going to fire a barrel at them as well as the pigeons but the silly sods still went hammering on about bloody lapwings and what a cruel waste and how can you people do this kind of thing for pleasure and how we should be prosecuted and made an example of and how could we call ourselves sportsmen and all that guff and so Dean got really pissed off they’re bloody pigeons you stupid little prick he shouted out we’re thinning them out because they’re a total pest a bit like you two…I’m going to report you to the authorities people like you should be made an example of killing rare birds for so-called sport do you really call that sport killing harmless little lapwings they don’t go around killing things they never start wars they don’t invent nuclear weapons what have they ever done to you?…and on and on like that…scatty they drove us totally scatty they did…
… so that was it Dean just lost it like and marched towards him and roared out they’re bloody pigeons you silly little sod and the other bloke was just going to open his stupid mouth again when Dean rushed at him and made as if to swing a right hook right smack bang on the chin you’ve never seen anyone move so quickly could’ve set a new land speed record easily they were off both of them like a pair of terrified pheasants just loud squawks and two pairs of green wellies kicking up a cloud of dust before he could land the punch they were nearly out of sight and Dean just bellowed after them pigeons pigeons… pigeons… for the tenth time they’re not bloody lapwings they’re bloody PIGEONS mate… funny thing we never seen them since good riddance that’s what I say…’
People like Trev, with their no-nonsense approach to life, keep us on an even keel and are in their own small, but very likeable way the sound voice of common sense and reason in a sometimes totally crazy world.
Trev has a refreshingly straightforward, non-bureaucratic approach to problem solving. He frequently makes his appearances at the lake carrying his shotgun – broken and unloaded of course so as not to alarm any of us – over his arm. On one occasion I asked him what he was expecting to shoot. ‘Mink’ was the immediate, unhesitating response. ‘Someone reported there was a mink nosing round here a couple of days ago…just thought I’d see if he turned up this evening and I’d have a shot at him…and of course there are quite a few other pests around as well’. These days there are indeed many species of unwelcome visitor, not only animal, but human as well, turning up nowadays at lakes everywhere which hold good stocks of fish.
There have been stories circulating of large carp disappearing from lakes here and there in these parts, and rumours of attempts to net waters. So there are more than a few of us who are glad that Trev takes an interest in intruders of all kinds which need to be kept under observation and control…
Trev is not a particularly big man, but he stands his ground and is never fazed by strangers round the lake – quite the reverse. He and a colleague share the policing of Cowpat, a lake created on a piece of land acquired by the club with admirable foresight some years ago. They take no nonsense from intruders who are clearly not members. Potential recruits to the club are put in touch with Trev or his mate and accompanied round the lake so they can walk about and form an impression of the place and ask any questions before they make their minds up about joining. All just as it should be. But all too often certain unwelcome individuals will come nosing round lakes by day, and return by night.
One anecdote of Trev’s concerns intruders he did not actually come face to face with. Late one evening last September after dark when he was passing Cowpat on his regular route home from the farm where he works part-time. He noticed an unfamiliar van parked in a nearby lay-by… But why not let him tell his own story?
So anyway after I note the number down I carries on a bit and stops the car a couple of hundred yards away near the cottages so even if they heard me they wouldn’t be too suspicious like and I grabs the gun always have it with me like my best friend it is like and then I walks back to the gate to the normal car park and lets myself in all quietly and stealthily like you know me and walks on a few yards all dead slow like and then stopped and listened carefully like could make out three voices just odd snatches couldn’t make no sense of what they were saying so just stood there for a bit just the odd voice and a few movements and a torch flashing once in a while they had a red filter on it a bit professional they were and up to no good and no mistake…
..so I thinks best just scare them off whoever they are and have done with it like so anyway I loads the gun up all quietly like and fires into the air two shots that’s all that sort understand like one after the other into the air over where I think they are must’ve given ‘em a bit of a shower must’ve come down sounding like a load of metal confetti and given ‘em something to think about a bit of a shock like no messing both barrels in quick succession that’s the way to do it innit so anyway I hears a loud shriek like then crashing through the bushes then next thing I hears the van start up and away they go off at top speed like no hanging around for introductions and polite discussions like…funny thing we never had any trouble in that way since…the day after we found the net and stuff they left behind we did…good riddance that’s what I say…
Before you all start tut-tutting about irresponsible endangering of life and limb, I should point out that Trev keeps a stock of cartridges specifically for this deterrent purpose. And before I go any further, please note that it is for this purpose only…just like ‘real’ ammunition, it is never to be used in fun. Instead of the usual shot, these cartridges are I am told packed with relatively harmless rock salt. I am also reliably told – although I never want to experience it first-hand at the receiving end – that this is an extremely effective method of deterring undesirables. It will not kill or maim, but if you hear it landing in the undergrowth it will sound a bit like hot lead raining down and make you want to depart without delay.
And if you do somehow happen to collect some of it on your fleeing anatomy it will sting a bit – and it certainly will put you off returning…and good riddance, say I as well!
Rod Sturdy.
