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I often feel the Book of Revelations may have lost something in the translation, and was really referring to a quartet of malevolent, vengeful fish.
After all, the species were still smarting over the ‘Loaves and Fishes’ incident… feed the multitude with just two fishes? Pull the other one—it was just a cover-up for over-fishing the Sea of Galilee.

This headline is not just a cheap ploy to get the attention of the more devout anglers.:whistling I suspect two Horsemackerel (the Pestilence and Famine chappies) have been controlling things from just beyond casting distance for many years. They are probably responsible for the pestilence of whiting and the famine of cod.
But back to my report. Monday, early: the weather forecast was reasonable, with light winds and just a spattering of rain as the Kadsey burbled through the darkness of Oare Creek, heading for the old forts.
We three ‘good ole’ boys’ were settled in our plastic garden chairs dreaming of the cod we might catch there, while the skipper busied himself with driving, and looking a various glowing screens… 90mins later we were dropping anchor.

It was deeper than we’d been before: we could tell, by the unused anchor rope snaking out of the tub. The whiting had been waiting for us and sport was brisk, with them scoffing down worms the bait diggers has sweated blood to find at this time of year. But they were just as happy with strips of squid.

I had a couple of dabs and a couple of decent doggies to break the monotony. The forecasters had lied: it was very choppy and becoming more uncomfortable by the minute. Ken almost came a cropper, falling on my pair of Ron Thompson’s, ouch!—but no damage was done. Then it started to rain.

We moved about four times searching for something other that whiting, but I think the buggers were following us. Final tally was: four doggies, five dabs and a boxful of whiting; this doesn’t include the vast quantities of whiting unhooked and returned.

In spite of my flotation suit having kept me dry... over twelve hours the cold and damp seemed to have crept into my very bones.
Having gutted our bucketfull of whiting on the boat I was a hero to the memsahib. A hot bath and a very large whisky-mac was awaiting me at home.
 

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I like this post...particularly the inspired title:thumbs:
 

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great report don, as ever.lol
 

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Well done dear boy I do admire your persistence and it must of all been worth it for the hero's welcome. My normal welcome on returning home is " daft bugger what you out in this for?" She has no idea of my inborn streak of masochism combined with fishing. Regards Jim
 

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Great stuff Don, your persistance will be rewarded...........one day:thumbs:
 
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