Before we start the Mud-Slinger, I have an announcement. After extensive communications with Paul Dicks from Bristol Angling Centre, I can announce that Paul’s son, Callum, is coming to Whitemoor on the 23rd of September to spend a day with us/you.
For those who do not know, Callum Dicks is a former World Champion, winning the under 20’s world title and earning podium places in France, Italy, and Belgium. Callum was selected for the Senior nation team in 2014 and fished many matches for England. Since then, Callum has been at the front of his sport, winning many titles both with teams and individually. He even won the pairs match being fished at Todber when we were there a few weeks ago…
I am delighted that we can give you the opportunity to spend the day with an angler of this quality. An opportunity that I hope you will not miss out on.
The fees will be the usual £10 for Whitemoor.
This event will go live at 9am in the morning (Wednesday). Spaces will be limited, so get in early to ensure you do not miss out on a chance to fish with a world champion…
HEADLINES:
Junior angler responsible for global pellet shortage: Male angler complains of lack of length, girth, or weight: DDAS juniors helps local business:
It was a strange old day. I prepared as usual for the third Tuesday club of the year, knowing full well that I wouldn’t be there to see it. M’Lady has not been well for a few weeks and there has definitely been a dip in her health for the most part of the weekend. Her condition is such that she doesn’t ever ‘get well’. She oscillates back and forth between ill and extremely ill. Today she was the latter. Her asthma can turn on a sixpence either way and I put her meds in the night before hoping that she would be better by the morning.
Tuesday morning showed me that the decision not to go made on Monday evening was correct. Sgt. Bracey would have the helm today.
The lads were already casing the joint when I arrived unusually late at 09:30. I hadn’t had much sleep and blurted out what I thought they needed to know about who was coming and about what equipment I’d brought with me. They are an exceptional bunch of blokes, my coaches, and they just got on with what they needed to do. We took a blanket vote on whether to erect the injured bog tent. The vote was a unanimous ‘Nah, let ‘em jungle wee’, a term now well used in junior circles (Thanks Tina/Candy!). I promise to get the bog tent sorted for next time to cater for the comfort needs of the fine ladies of the Tuesday Club…
When everyone had arrived, I bled them of their money (Thank you to those who donated extra!). It was soon time for me to leave, and so I did… Home to Comfort and care for M’Lady…
In my absence, much of what follows may or may not have happened. I will leave it up to you to decide. I will give out the answers at next weeks Tuesday Club. The winner will get a half sucked boiled sweet as a ‘prize’…
Jack Davies is one of our newest juniors and looks to be a fast learner. He certainly has ambition. Last time out at Sharnhill, Jack was soundly thrashed by one of the lakes ‘Big girls’ (some anglers pay for such treatment) and was determined to even the score. Being new to pole fishing didn’t stop Jack from it being his weapon of choice in this battle of minds, and he patiently waited to spring the trap on his foe. The float slipped below the rippling water, Jack lifted the pole, and the line went taught. Elastic streamed from the tip as the lad entered a critical phase. Would the fish make it to the reeds? It tried but Jack turned its head, expertly guiding the fish away from danger. The ebb and flow of battle was won as Jack slipped the net under the Carp, and victory was claimed when he uttered the oath, ‘That’s not big enough! I want a bigger one!’ I can only imagine the look in the eyes of the small Carp. The crushing feeling of inadequacy must have ripped it to the core. One day, you’ll see! I’ll be back when I grow up, you’ll see! The Carp was returned to the water where I have no doubt the Carps’ mother was waiting for him, tea towel over her arm, drumming her fins on her arm as she stood waiting at the back door. She would have looked at the lad-Carps’ sore lip, clipped him round the gills as he swam through the door saying, ‘What have I told you about eating maggots laying around? If I’ve warned you once, I’ve warned you a thousand times! You just don’t listen to me! You wait until your father gets home! The door would slam, and the rest of the conversation is left private betwixt them both. (The last part was based on the memoirs of Mr G Howard. Taken from the chapter entitled ‘The day mum thrashed me to the floor with a damp tea towel’…) Jack like most kids likes to eat. Grandad Kevin seized his opportunity to ‘have a go’ himself.
Grandad Kevin made himself hugely unpopular by catching a Carp bigger than that of his grandson! Lunch was cast aside as Jack threw Grandad Kevin off his ‘new’ seat box and reconcentrated his efforts to catch a bigger fish. I am imagining Jacks vision was like that of a laser guidance system on a missile. Unblinking and constant. The float dipped and Whammo! Fish on!!! You probably know the rest and Jacks quarry was banked. Jack Davies 1, Carp in Sharnhill 1…
Open Day veteran, Reuben McNulty had joined us with dad Chris today. I am willing to bet that he never for one minute thought that he would be going home with a ‘new’ seat box today. Uncle Si had given the seat box tree a good shake and two had fallen out, ripe for a needy junior. From all accounts Reuben had a good day. I witnessed him bagging out one small Carpy looking thing after another. Once I’d sorted out his shot, he caught even faster. I may have to have a word with Chris about standing directly behind a loaded junior. At one-point, Reuben was playing hide the hook in the back of Chistopher’s head! Better the back than the front. Reuben looked like he enjoyed the day and I’m sure we’ll see him again next time…
Kenzie and Tina arrived bristling with new tackle items and could not wait to use them. For an un-blooded junior, Kenzie has a knack for the dark art of casting, and I heard it on the grapevine that Carp across the local area are on high alert. I had gate crashed a shopping trip at Alan’s Angling with T and K, helping Tina to rid herself of something called ‘funds’ from her bank account. This is a fate that has befallen many a parent in the past. But its all in a good cause. Namely to get their precious darlings on the bank and catching fish. What more to life is there? To reward my efforts in helping Tina to boost Alan’s retirement fund, she had promised to bring a nice coffee and walnut cake with her to show her adoration and appreciation. Imagine how stupid I looked standing there with a napkin stuffed down the front of my shirt and a knife and fork in hands in preparation for the feast, only be told ‘I didn’t bring a cake’… I had been sold down the garden path by ‘No-cake-Tina’. Si looked crest fallen too as C and W is his favourite. This only ramps up the expectation for the next time she attends a junior event. Double disappointment then because No-cake-Tina is not able to come next week! I’m wondering if Kenzie’s dad can bake?
DDAS Juniors are always willing to help growing local businesses, and this one is a peach! Kit’s mum, Jen, seems to have started a wellbeing fitness group called ‘Querky Twerks’. Apparently, this is focused on ‘cuddley’ angling coaches who have invested heavily in the ale and kebab driven waistline. Jen’s manifesto reads as follows, “The aim of Turkey Nerks is to get fat lads to twerk so hard that the buttocks make a
clapping sound. This is easily achieved with my experience in this field. We can get the clap so loud that it can make a pint glass wobble.” If this is you, go to www.twerk.it.til.it.hurts.com for more information.
It's such a shame that Kenzie will never win a junior match after that level of cheek. I fear that the rule book will be re-written many, many, times during his junior career…
On my way round the lake, I found Countryside Chris standing perfectly still, in the water. His eyes were glazed white, and I can only assume that he was ‘Warging’ a Willow Warbler, Game of Thrones style. So, I left him to it…
Our last competitor for this special imagined edition of the Mud-Slinger was A.S.K and his Glam Nan. Vogue Gran was desperate to show me her knees, and who was I to deny myself this delight. I admit to feeling slightly let down by the display, but I took a picture anyway.
Before M’Lady starts on me again, I did have permission for this one! I’m sure they are an excellent example of the finest knees.
Austin was doing his best impression of a character from ‘The Simpsons’ by dying his hands yellow from the pellets he was shovelling in.
This was part of his latest campaign to fill up as many lakes as he can using only 2mm pellets.
Since he masterfully created ‘The Isle of Kennedy’ at Todber Manor, this latest attempt was to be known as ‘The Spit of Scott’…
I’ve not seen as much bait being tossed into the water since the 106-ball barrage from the French national team during the 1982 World Championships in Poland, that caused a Tsunami to hit the beaches of Madagascar.
Austin was using ingredients faster than a cupcake sales rep outside a weightwatchers meeting!
The lad was physically held down as we removed a bucket of pellets from his feeder, much to the appreciation of the fish who were gesturing that they simply could not eat any more pellets!
The lesson here kids, is as follows… You want the fish to compete for your hook bait. Piling bait into the water will only do one of two things. You will feed the fish out of your swim, or you have too many fish in your swim. Either way, they will become hard, if not impossible to catch. You can put a bed of bait down if you think that’s what will work. But then you need to back off and only feed a little bit of bait quite often. The fish will come in for the banquet and only find a happy meal. They will fight for it to the point where they do not care anymore. That’s when you will catch them the easiest. Remember: You can put the bait in, but you cannot take it out again… and… Feed a little amount of bait, often…
Liam joined us for a short while today, sadly, I only saw him leave the lake because he had had enough as I arrived back for the last hour.
My absence during the large part of the day does mean that a small percentage of what is written above is fabricated. But I am reliably informed that a lot of it is totally true… Honest… Would the Mud-Slinger lie to you?
We’ve had some fun (I hope!), now it’s time for a little moan. I am mentioning no names here, and I’m sure that this can be aimed at us all at times. Fishing tackle is expensive (ask your parents!) so it is in your best interests to look after it. It will work better. It will last longer. It will look better. You will fish better with properly functioning gear. From poles and seat boxes right down to your bait boxes, everything needs to be clean and tidy. If it gets dirty, clean it. If it gets wet, dry it. If it smells, air it. Wet tackle goes mouldy and there is nothing worse than furry tackle! (Cheeky!). Would you eat food from a plate that hasn’t been washed for two weeks? Why expect the fish to? Let’s make a better effort please guys…
More than ever, I want to thank our wonderful team of coaches they are, Jerry Bracey, Si Wagner, Chris Ward, and Chris Painter. Thank you for covering for me today, it is very much appreciated. Big thanks also to all the dedicated parents/guardians who stuck it out in some less than desirable conditions today.
Next event is the last round of the Stock Pond Knockout at Revels this Friday (11th).
The next Tuesday Club is on the 15th of August at Luckfield Lake.
Take care and tight lines…
Juniors Sec…