A ‘similar’ story, but doesn’t entail bleak eating the chub
was a Wednesday evening match I fished on the W&E on the Bhills MG sections in the late 80s.
Jack Fletcher, God rest his soul, (whose son Jake ran the tackle shop in Bhills) had seemingly taken me under his wing.
I was on the road section just up from the Jolly Collier (now long gone) - apart from the first few pegs near the bridge, the rest of the section - where I was in the middle - didn’t have much form. :(
In those days tench and bream usually from the pegs in the 40s on Apex bend used to win most of the matches.
I started on the punch and had a few roach. Then the smallest tench I’d ever seen from the cut - a couple of ounces. They usually were in the 2-3lb bracket. Over the next couple of hours I picked up half dozen of these small tincas.
Whistle went, I pack up and I’m waiting for the scales - ‘if yow dow weigh, yow aint caught owt’
Loads of anglers traipse past me all packed up, including a few ‘faces’
‘You the guy with half a dozen tench?’ I’m asked
‘Yep’
A few hang back with their gear waiting for the scales to reach me.
When they arrive I pull out my net and tip the contents into the basket…………the beamies didn’t even clock 2lb and the air is blue ‘Crappitty smack me, I’ve tipped a tench back’
followed by ‘That’s crappity smack all, I’ve chucked two back’
Whilst old Jack had been walking the section, all he’d done when asked if anybody was having any tench was reply honestly ‘yep, my mates got 4’ followed by ‘he’s got 5 now’ etc...........
Sad end to the story though
- can't remember actually winning the section, think somebody did stop and weigh one tinca in to wipe me out
Crayfish capers 
