A Kink

Aye, in my line. I let the other two take the boat and was quite happy bank fishing with L's big rubber fetish gear chest waders. By lunch, I'd had a bite, but thems had nowt. And so it continued. Or so I thought. I found a brilliant spot where the fish were swimming around me. Unfortunately, they weren't hungry. Or aggressive, or anything. I should have taken a stun grenade. Meanwhile the boaters found a rich seam of stupid fish around the air bubbly pipe. And were hauling them out.
So, that was that. The wind shifted to the east and it got chilly bloody willy. So, a warm up in the Anchor, with their coal fire and Real Madrid getting a pumping. Back for L's Spaggy Bol and ... more wine of the poorest quality. Marv-ell-ous!