Once upon a time not so long ago in the land of Sans Subtlety there lived a fisherman. When he was young fishing was kewl. A delicate rod an occasional bite, and the thrill of the very rare fight. But the thrills were indeed very very rare and fishermen in Sans Subtlety became impatient, greedy for more. Rods became bigger, ponds smaller, fish bred for idiocy and still they wanted more. Guns replaced rods, firing tons of dull lead shot into stagnant waters. One day someone lobbed a pound of semtex pondwards and for a flash the fun returned. Then all was flat for a while. Nowadays to go fishing in Sans Subtlety is to pump out the pond.
Meanwhile our young fisherman was older and bored. He had an inking that all was not well in San Subtlety and so travelled across the sea to the small but select island of Refinement. There he found the rods to be slim and the ponds and rivers deep and tricky. As for the fish; well, he tied his first fly and cast with characteristic over confidence.
So I finned lazily a long the bottom of my home stream and watched this guy lob the clumsiest most obvious bit of feathers and cotton onto the surface. Splash it went - and of course I didn't even stir from the comfortable shingle bed, let alone rise to the bait.
oh and btw .... a middle finger gesture in your direction, but as interpreted by Mr Bean of course