Things descending into the dark deeps...
...and disappearing isn't as bad as big scary things ascending from the murk with the sole purpose of dragging you down to your watery doom.

However, I do like a bit of seafishing now and then, and if I get a bite and am reeling in, I'm looking intently over the side waiting for the first silvery glimmers of the hooked fishie.

One of these days, and this is 100% definite*, it'll either be an unexploded WW2 mine and we'll all be vapourised, a huge Conger Eel in a really foul mood, or something else will reach up from it's hiding place underneath the hull and pull me in.

The mackerel will swim in formation around my expiring body, sniggering in piscine victory as my eardrums rupture and the cold salty water....

Ahem.

I can swim. I've got lifesaving qualifications (OK, a bit out of date). I've got awards for doing it for real FFS. I've got enough blubber to keep me going for plenty of time, even in the laughably named 'temperate' North Sea. Before years of Marlboros took their toll I could hold my breath for unfeasibly long times without going purple.

And yet I still have the occasional wibble.

(I think the fresh mackerel on the barbie is still worth the sea-monster attack risk, though)







*might not be definite after all.
(osok Rebel without a clue, Wed 16 Apr 2008, 11:06, Reply)