- Sat Jun 13, 2009 4:30 pm
Translation for the non-austrian speakers among us.
2008 June, Mitch came over to London to see the family, asked if anybody had a day's fishing to share, as it happened I did - so folowing many decades of drought and hosepipe bans we went fishing on the Coln in the lovely county of Gloucestershire - pronounced glostersher.. handy tip for those who get lost easily.
Long story short - it pissed down rain the whole day, dinks and average fishes were duped and returned to be stupefied another day. It was fun, good to meet another Drakian from afar. cheers brother.
2009 June, the bold Mitch takes the opportunity to visit the family again, paying for it by working in a goldmine for 26 hours a day at temperatures of 120 degrees C in the daytime and -300 at night. Being the hardest dude on the planet he duly hardened the fuck up and saved up multiple pounds of gold to cover the Italy&Wales Drake Bake 2009.
In true Drake fashion, tickets were booked the night before and on the day of departure, decisions having been made at 4AM after gallons of beer and it was decided in this Drakian lucidity to visit Italy where the man had previously tied a silken insect but where the mystery had never previously set foot, inch even.
I gather that the trip from Chateau Shunned to Perth's international terminal was without incident and that the Shunnedmobile would be expected to remain safe on a hydrant until the return of the sacred mystery - AKA shunned. For the sake of clarity Mitch aka 2 fish will remain in background.
Having laid waste large areas of England's capital, as an example to the remainder, the mystery and the man teamed up and by magic were transported to a far off land where the polish was unintelligible to your heroes. This, it was decided, albeit after a few days, was a distinct advantage as the local folks were provided with the perfect example to prove their hospitality, which they did in style.
The heroic pair (well the mystery one anyway) hired a horseless carriage as displayed previously, with a fierce guard dog, who it transpired spoke neither our austro-anglo dialect nor the local speak - but a germanic throwback of a byegone age intelligible only to quadrupeds - he was left to guard the beers for breakfast, elevenses, lunch, teabreak, supper and snack-time. Cheers, zoozoo, for a job well done.
Finding fishing is far from easy when there are fifteen forms to complete to get a licence and another twenty to get a fishing ticket. Especially difficult was getting the latter tickets as the office had been closed with no forward address. As nobody spoke our language and we hadn't a frigin clue what was going on, a local guy worked out that we were totally nuts and should be thrown in the river. He guided us to a suitable place for that foul purpose which strangely co-incided with the fishery office. Cool, molto grazie meester.
Driving at the speed of light we managed to get legal, and proceeded to conquer truttas. A couple of dinks came along then the magic spell of the mystery clicked in and resulted in 3/4 inch of rain in the afternoon which clouded the waters of the stream and soaked yours truly to the arse of my waders. A decision had to be made. Of course we continued to fish until the last bit of daylight had been sucked from the sky and we then went back to the small castle we stayed att to get changed. Time to eat.
Oh and drink loads of beers and avoid the scorpions and fireflies and man-eating frigin spiders and try to sleep while huge bugs tried to eat the floor, easy after another gallon of Peroni.
The next morning dawned brightt and sunny, allegedly, it was too bright for jmy hangover anyway, the mystery woke me and informed me that the guard dog had eaten all the bugs and scorpions and the day was young, time for coffee. COOL, coffee mmmmm. After coffee it rained another half inch, mutthafucka, I have never seen the like. Off fishing we went, trying to distinguish the water surface from the sky. The mystery said he'd had enough rain and needed coffee. By magic the rain ceased, never to reappear, cofee did not so we returned to the village, coffee mmmmmmmmm.
We recounted how many truttas we had caught, me many millions, shunned had none he could remember until I showed him my camera, duhhh! :) more coffee mmmmmmmmmm
By now, seriously addicted to espresso and jangling at the seams we went off like suckers for punishment, watch out ye truttas, we will take your photograph and steal your soul.
just remember, every time you think you've a reputation to uphold there's 100 million other people who don't have a fucking clue who you are.
mitch aka 2 fish
le blogue .. http://reversedparachutes.blogspot.com/