[Guest]

That's a bit

Diversion a bit but a guy I used to work with used to sabotage my car and vice versa, every day you started it up expecting something to fall off or blow up, he ramped it up with WD40 on my windscreen, didn't see a thing till I put the window wipers on and couldn't see a thing! so I put a potato up his exhaust, like right up, with it parked with the exhaust facing a greenhouse forgot all about it until the bang, then bang, then another bang and screams, he had revved it right up and fired the potato not just through the greenhouse but out the other side and through a shop it took out a display of pot plants that a woman was arranging in the next building?

I know the feeling, a mixture of pleasure and guilt. It's only human, I guess, to enjoy someone's misfortune when the context leaves room for it.

One day my younger brother and I were fishing, but as always he got bored quickly and started lighting firecrackers, throwing them at me to p*ss me off. He ignited them with a cigarette and just as I was thinking of getting off my seat to give him a good hiding, I saw him light one, put it in his mouth and throw away the cigarette. I said nothing and just waited. Made my day.

 

[Guest]

Can this be for real?

Oh, yes, he was a true heavyweight, but he can't prove it anymore.

 

[diawl bach]

Can this be for real?

It's a good story so it doesn't matter!

 

[Guest]

It's a good story so it doesn't matter!

It would to me, but then I was there. He didn't have any trouble with a crate of beer, a bad habit I picked up quite early and only shed a couple of years ago.

 

[JoeOh]

Back in the coarse fishing days, I arrived at a promising swim in the corner of one of London's Hampstead lakes in the early hours of morning. I set up by torchlight, cast out my swimfeeder and regularly lobbed out balls of gtoundbait. Total number of fish until dawn, one gudgeon.
As the sun rose, I could see my swimfeeder about 10 yards out, and the balls of groundbait clearly. I had chosen the most shallow corner of the lake, where the water was approx four inches deep. No wonder the swim was unoccupied...
Still not as bad as the story I heard of Carp guys mistakenly night fishing a fog covered field.

 

[ohanzee]

Back in the coarse fishing days, I arrived at a promising swim in the corner of one of London's Hampstead lakes in the early hours of morning. I set up by torchlight, cast out my swimfeeder and regularly lobbed out balls of gtoundbait. Total number of fish until dawn, one gudgeon.
As the sun rose, I could see my swimfeeder about 10 yards out, and the balls of groundbait clearly. I had chosen the most shallow corner of the lake, where the water was approx four inches deep. No wonder the swim was unoccupied...
Still not as bad as the story I heard of Carp guys mistakenly night fishing a fog covered field.

I have done this walked to a remote loch and it took way longer than expected, arrived in darkness but heard fish moving so, fished along a whole bank with lots of plucks and tugs yet...nothing, the following morning in daylight realised the plucks and tugs were the bottom of 3 inches of water?

 

[Guest]

I have done this walked to a remote loch and it took way longer than expected, arrived in darkness but heard fish moving so, fished along a whole bank with lots of plucks and tugs yet...nothing, the following morning in daylight realised the plucks and tugs were the bottom of 3 inches of water?

I've seen the other way around. I was fishing for carp in a barrage in Wallonia and two guys set up camp on the other side, maybe 500 meters away, tents and rods on the bank at the edge of the water. I tried to warn them, looking through the binoculars, shouting and waving my arm up, to make them go higher, and they waved back at me. The barrage, a set of dammed valleys connected to each other, provides the drinking water for the whole region and two major cities. Next morning the water came, all three meters of it, and I'll always remember the first sounds coming out of the mist. Pity I couldn't see the commotion, but the soundtrack said it all. When it finally cleared, the guys were gone too.

 

[ohanzee]

These stories are triggering memories, warning dafties that don't listen always makes a good tale, a dead calm summers eve on a loch too near Glasgow, I was across the loch from a weekend beer binge(with rods) usual grunter yelling and swearing for the sake of being the type just, ruined the calm of the evening, anyway, it gradually escalated into darkness, couldn't see but could still hear it, one shouted 'I'm going for a fkn pis ya fkn whatever' yells back along the same lines, went quiet for a bit then SPLASH

 

[Vintage Badger]

Talking of the demon drink, once while fishing the Tay we were staying in a very nice B&B right next door to a bar, so it seemed only right to keep the bar in business after dinner each night (by the end of the second evening they'd run out of Highland Park, but that's another story!).

While sitting there gently chasing a pint of very dull bitter with something much nicer, I noticed that all the local men were shouting at, rather than talking to, each other to have a conversation. Now this was quite a small bar and there was no need to vocally compensate for distance, as the tables were small and they were sitting barely 2 feet apart.

I commented on this to my fishing friends who hadn't really noticed it, and they agreed it wasn't particularly logical behaviour. So one of them leant over to an elderly local lady, who must have been 80 if she was a day bless her, and asked her why all the men were shouting rather than talking.

She paused and looked at him in complete astonishment, shook her head in disbelief and uttered the immortal words 'Cause they're pished"! Perhaps we English really are too reserved after all!

 

[ohanzee]

Talking of the demon drink, once while fishing the Tay we were staying in a very nice B&B right next door to a bar, so it seemed only right to keep the bar in business after dinner each night (by the end of the second evening they'd run out of Highland Park, but that's another story!).

While sitting there gently chasing a pint of very dull bitter with something much nicer, I noticed that all the local men were shouting at, rather than talking to, each other to have a conversation. Now this was quite a small bar and there was no need to vocally compensate for distance, as the tables were small and they were sitting barely 2 feet apart.

I commented on this to my fishing friends who hadn't really noticed it, and they agreed it wasn't particularly logical behaviour. So one of them leant over to an elderly local lady, who must have been 80 if she was a day bless her, and asked her why all the men were shouting rather than talking.

She paused and looked at him in complete astonishment, shook her head in disbelief and uttered the immortal words 'Cause they're pished"! Perhaps we English really are too reserved after all!

Perfectly normal Scottish behaviour, a few drinks and everyone is assumed deaf