KEVIN PERKINS

Kevin Perkins
Kevin Perkins is one of those anglers who sees the funny side of life, and there are plenty of funny goings-on in fishing. He’s the Alternative Angler who sees that side of things that most of us miss because we’re too busy going about the serious business of catching fish and often missing the satire and laughs along the way.

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.

Looking Backwards, Going Forwards

Oh well, it’s crept round to that time again when we find ourselves on the cusp of another year. Time to look back and reflect, and time to look forward to the future. For me, it was not quite so prolific on the writing front, I only managed 30 or so articles this year, and if I’m not careful that young pup Mark Wintle will be catching me up!

Also, I got ideas above my station and tried writing a few ‘proper’ articles as well, and all that did was to show me I should stick to what I know (whatever that is). I do regret that this meaningless sidetracking meant that I didn’t manage to get my ‘Herbert’ hat on at all last year, and Donald and Damien had a rather extended but certainly not planned break. I apologise to their four or five fans on FM and will do my best to rectify that omission next year.

Speaking of next year, I really must get out fishing a bit more (I say that every year, but this time I mean it). I went out with Woody this week for a day’s spinning at Tring. Despite the fact that we may look and sound a bit like old Waldorf and Statler from the Muppets, we are always willing to embrace modern methods.

Woody
Woody, lure fishing

Spanking new carbon spinning rods were in evidence, braided lines were the order of the day, as were baitcasting rod and reel combos. And when it came to lures, we had just about every type of proven fish attractor in jelly or rubber, some being incredibly lifelike imitations, others resembling alien life forms.

To go with these were plugs and spoons and spinnerbaits in many diverse colours such as Chartreuse and Fire Tiger that were employed on the day. And all of this to no avail. Not at sniff, not a follow, absolutely nada.

Which perhaps just goes to show that even employing the most advanced tackle available doesn’t always make catching fish any easier. In fact, we could have spent the day using tackle that Alfred Jardine would recognise, such as cane rods, silk lines and Colorado or kidney spoons and we wouldn’t (couldn’t!) have done any worse, so what price progress?

Maybe another couple of ‘Ancient and Modern’ articles will prove that the gulf between then and now isn’t as wide as some would imagine (or hope, if you are a tackle manufacturer!).

But looking forward, I would like to get out for a session with one or two of the ‘characters’ from FM, perhaps the likes of Lord Paul or Deanos; the fishing may not be anything to write about, but there will surely be enough going on to fill an article.

In fact, perhaps we should organise an FM ‘Nutters’ Fish-In, where the sole object is to have a bloody good time and anyone who takes it seriously will be slung in. Camou gear will be banned, funny hats, red noses and Hawaiian shirts and frogmen’s flippers will be mandatory, and anyone who dares to bring matching or appropriate tackle will be banned from the match and forced into buying the first round in the pub afterwards.

Perhaps a ‘Bleak Fishing with a Beach Caster’ competition would be good, or maybe ‘Pole fishing for Trout’ would raise a laugh or two, certainly give your elastic a fair old stretch. All fish caught will be returned without being weighed, the winner will be chosen on the basis of sealed bids on your estimated catch put in before the match starts. Sounds like a plan to me.

But if I don’t get to see you at this or any other get together, can I just take the opportunity to wish to wish you all on FM a very Merry Xmas and Happy New Year

And, as its Christmas, a few ‘Alternative’ festive, FM themed carols never go amiss………

Hark the Herald Angels Sing

Hark the FM members sing
Tales about one G Marzdin
It’s ‘Peace on you’ if he gets riled
He isn’t meek and he ain’t mild
Just what makes him so angry
Is members blagging stuff for free
Deanos begging for a rod
Really winds up the old sod
Hark the FM members sing
You’ll not get owt from G Marzdin

He’s bound to never overspend
Tales of prudence never end
Of Scottish blood he sure must be
A branch right off the money tree
His Aladdin’s cave of many a prize
To give away would cause surprise
His hold on goodies is so tight
See the knuckles glowing white
Hark the FM members sing
You’ll not get owt from G Marzdin

God Rest Ye Merrie Gentlemen

God rest ye merry FM folk
Let nothing you dismay
Dear Ron will soon be back with you
With tales of old SA
T’will bring about mass boredom
And many a long, long day
Of discomfort and nowt to enjoy
Nowt to enjoy
Of discomfort and nowt to enjoy

His many tales of anglers past
Have had a strange effect
The chaps to whom they have been told
Look like they have been decked
A voice like liquid Vallium
Oft leaves the listener cold
And wishing that they had never asked
Had never asked
And wishing that they had never asked

O Little Town of Bethlehem

O anglers of Warrington
With rules you must comply
If you want to keep your fishing card
You’d best prepare to fly
Coz by those swims there lurketh
Big Baz, the bailiff guy
Your hopes and fears will end in tears
He’s sure to make you cry

For stealth it is his weapon
He creeps up on tip-toe
Moves silent like a ninja
His approach you’ll never know
But once locked upon his target
Escape you cannot try
Your card is plucked and you are f$%&ed
Pack up and say goodbye

Once in Royal David’s City

Once beside the babbling Ouse
Stood a lowly fishing shed
And many anglers paid a visit
Spending nights on a bunk bed
Friends for life they did become
Gay old times for everyone

Then a legend came amongst them,
Lord God Dicky was his name
And His rod it was a whopper,
Asked the boys to play a game
When the others saw His tackle,
They all exclaimed ‘O, f*&%$ing hell’

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