A case of mistaken identity...

"I know where you live!", that's what I was saying to myself as I drove towards Blount. No, I have not started to collect debts for big Vern and I have not taken up a post with the Royal Mail. I was just psyching myself up for stalking a big fish.

It was a fish I had seen a few weeks ago and unless it has already been served with a squeeze of lemon then it should still be there, having found itself one of those lies that is near impossible to present a fly to without snagging a tree/hooking the rushes/fly dragging like a skating sedge on speed etc.

I arrived to find the air alive with Mayfly, in fact the car was covered in them before I could get my wading boots on. My fishing time was limited to the cooking period of a pair of Mediterranean breasts.., with new potatoes and my seasonal favourite, asparagus.

As I walked down river the dancing May's filled the sky, the grass and even the fishing hut looked like it had a living skin. The spiders would be having a right hearty feast for the next few days but they would need it to repair their webs, damaged by volume.

The leviathan's lair was quiet. There were few flies on the water and no sign of rising fish. I would sneak into position and wait for him to show...not too long mind, I like my breasts soft and moist, don’t we all?

After maybe fifteen minutes a fish snatched at a passing fly. It was not the monster Trout but it meant that he would soon be out to play. Another five minutes passed and now there were three or four fish under the willow, all snatching at the Mayfly feast. Then, moving a large wake of water he came to the surface of his dark lair, to engulf his starter.

It was time. I got into the river and crawled on all fours, rod in teeth, to the spot where I knew I could present the fly. Although only shallow, I needed to stay low and the water was dangerously close to the top of my chesties as I knelt against the rushes.

He was now rising steadily.

I prepared the shooting line, I prepared to cast....the fly landing just at the top of the eddy, enough slack to hold it still whilst the current ate up the free line, "SLOSH!!", he struck, so did I

....a blinking Chub!!!!