Monday 7 April 2014

F - Fisherman

I don't know why, but I've always found something quite alluring about the life of a fisherman. There's a certain calmness I experience when I imagine myself sitting in a wooden boat with only the gentle lap of the tide against the boat for company. So that's why I decided to cast my line and set sail towards tortured metaphors, I mean, I attempted to become a fisherman.

The reality is far different to what I imagined. I answered a job advert, and quickly found myself on a fishing trawler surrounded by 20 guys who didn't speak a word of English. We set off for the cape of Africa, braving the rough waters of the Atlantic. I sang a few traditional fisherman songs to keep our spirits up, but many of the men seemed perturbed by my dance moves to Oops Upside Your Head. Neither did they seem particularly keen on my rendition of Whigfield's Saturday Night. I started to suspect that I was on board with a bunch of fishing newbies, and I decided that, being the only one of us in an argyle sweater, I would rise up and lead these nautical n00bs. Someone had to take responsibility here.

The next day, I was awoken by a loud commotion on the deck. I scrambled upstairs to find that we were in hot.pursuit of a shipping container, which seemed to have the other men very excited. Perhaps they were having a friendly drag race with another vessel. I wasn't sure because I couldn't understand their language, plus they kept firing their guns in the air.

What I imagined wasn't exactly what I got

As I was the self appointed manager of this vessel, I decided to take decisive action. I noticed that we'd been out at sea for ages and still hadn't caught a single fish. At this speed, we'd be sure to capture half the ocean if we deployed our net. I moved to the rear of the boat and deployed the net straight into the water, immediately curbing our velocity and bringing the boat around in a small semi circle. My fellow fishermen seemed pretty ticked off by this, with one of them hitting me in the face with the butt of his AK-47. I began to lose conciousness, but not before I cursed whichever union gave him the power to hit his boss.

When I finally came round, I realised that we were on board the shipping container that we were chasing. One of my colleagues handed me an automatic weapon, and pointed towards a bunch of cowering people near the control deck. Their arms and feet had been tied. Perhaps this is what happens when you lose a race at sea. It appears that we had taken control of their ship, which I guess is what happens when you gamble out at sea. I could hear gunshots ringing out on other areas of the ship.

In broken English, I was told to stay and guard the prisoners. While I wasn't keen on being told what to do (being the boss and all), these Somalians seemed to understand more about the fisherman's code than me, so I stayed put.

The prisoners were Americans. They seemed very upset by this whole turn of events, and several of them were sobbing. One of the prisoners spoke to me.

"Hey buddy, if you let us go I can pay. Double what these guys are paying!"

I explained that I was the boss, but I did offer to loosen their straps as I thought being hogtied was a rather harsh forfeit for losing a race. As soon as I did, one of the passengers quickly snatched the gun from me and knocked me out cold, which seemed a bit harsh over a bit of fun.

When I awoke I found myself tied up in the cargo hold with the rest of my fishing colleagues. It seems the crew of the ship had taken control, and we were being transported to shore to face charges. I didn't really understand fully, but it seemed that my time as a fisherman was over. It came as quite a relief actually, since I can't stand the smell of fish

26 comments:

  1. I have spent many many many long days at sea . . . .but right now I am off to a garden centre (life does change somewhat) . . . . Anyway I will be back later holding plants and harpoons (Ah those were the days). . . .

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    1. What kind of garden centre sells harpoons?

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    2. Funnily enough Sir Addman that is exactly what the man in the Garden Centre said to me today . . .. . . . Even when explained I was an Ex North Sea Tiger he just looked puzzled and pretended to prune a rose. . . . . . So many lost gritty tales of the sea as a nomadic oil worker and do folk care . . . . . . . NO. I know just how you feel about your days as a fisherman stuff like that is in the blood (not the fish, i dont mean you have fish in your blood, well not many).

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    3. Well I did eat some tuna chunks yesterday, so who knows?

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  2. I was expecting pirates and was not very disappointed. I'm terrible at fishing. Absolutely terrible. I went once and failed spectacularly. The only life I could expect on the ocean is one of infamy and piracy, but even those jobs have been outsourced to the Somalis.

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    1. I used to go rockpooling whenever we went to the sea side. I never caught any fish, but I did once catch a huge condom. I swear it was this big:

      <------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------->

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  3. It seems a good thing you stopped being a fisherman as you were suffering from chronic concussions. Attracting that much brain trauma doesn't make for a healthy career.

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  4. Doesn't stop premier league footballers.

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  5. What do you call a fish with no eyes?
    .
    .
    .
    .
    .
    .
    .Anything you want, he won't know where you are! hahahahahahhahahahahahahahahaha

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    1. Actually, I call them Mexican Tetras:

      http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mexican_tetra

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  6. My dad once took me fishing. I spent 4 hours on a boat and caught nothing, Later in life, I learned that by spending a mere 10 minutes I can just drive to the supermarket and buy a fish.

    In all fairness, though, I was not wearing an argyle sweater...

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    Replies
    1. The argyle sweater is what makes a person a fisherman. Fish do not respond to anyone not wearing one, and refuse to be caught by argyleless people.

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  7. When I was a teenager I complained to my mother about my short legs. She told me my legs were part of my Portuguese heritage. "We come from a long line of fishermen," she said, "and men with short legs don't loose their balance in rocking dories." I thought about this and wondered why I had short legs when I got seasick and hated to eat fish.

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    Replies
    1. You deny your heritage?

      Seriously though, if that's true that's really interesting. I will only pick the shortest legged men for any vessels that I may command in future.

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  8. Oof, that's worse than the time my friends and I went fishing on Michigan Lake and collided into some big refinery-looking thing. Good thing it only took us a few minutes to swim to shore because shortly after the accident, the water started secreting a load of thick, black sludge. Apparently BP did something or whatever.

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    Replies
    1. Haha! Funnily enough, there was a recent event where a swordfish attacked an oil pipeline, causing a minor leak. Nature is fighting back.

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  9. One of my old high school friends is now a lobster fisherwoman, living on the Maine coast. I have never been more jealous of anyone in my life.

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    Replies
    1. She must have had some strange careers advice at school.

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  10. Did you at least bring me back some shrimp... or some rum?

    If you didn't bring me back some rum, I'm not sure I even believe your story.

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    Replies
    1. Rum? Of course not. It's not like we were pirates or anything.

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  11. You should really think about investing in a good quality fishing helmet.

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    Replies
    1. One with a spike on so I can skewer fish? The Nazis were the best fishermen.

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  12. That reminds me of the time that I went hunting and accidentally conquered Canada.

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    Replies
    1. It's so easily done with any outdoor activity. I once went potholing and accidentally ransomed Chelsea Clinton.

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