The Fishing Trip

The Actors:

Vic

Drac

The Skipper

Rad or The Rad

Coach or The Coach

Sooty, Salty, Sulky, Slutty, Snotty, Snitty, Shitty, Skanky et etc

The Beach

Jimmy the Fish

Special guest appearances by the fish

Scene 1 - The trip to the Airport

It was a warm yet balmy Friday morning.  The sun had not long risen and our would be intrepid fisherman gathered inside the Bong, awaiting the arrival of The Coach, and sporting their finest orange darts shirts.  Struggling to come to terms with being awake so early on a day off work, Drac and Rad ordered a coffee from the ever alert staff at the Bong.  Never failing to please, the staff returned with something slightly resembling coffee but tasting like shit.  After two swigs of the black death, Drac and Rad were wide awake and buzzing more than a Saturday night.

Vic, made of wiser stuff, had stuck with a Sprite or Orangina or some other sissy drink.

Almost everyone was there.  The Coach was sighted, The Skipper had, somewhat surprisingly, arrived on time.  The trip was underway.

The lads piled into the car, meat in tow.  Yes, two eskies full of steak, sausages, hamburger patties - on a fishing trip.  Someone forgot to tell Jimmy the Fish that the boys didn't in fact like fish, they just liked killing them.  Someone also forgot to remind The Skipper that Vic was in charge of meat and The Skipper doubled the order.  Never mind.  No one cared, we were underway and the merriment could begin.

It was a tight squeeze in the car, made no easier by the bags, eskies and general "I've got the biggest knob and balls on the planet" sitting posture of every person therein (i.e. legs apart as wide as they can go). 

It wasn't long into the trip before we realised that The Coach's driver had no fucking idea where he was going.  To the airport son, the airport.  By the most direct route possible if you please.  But he had other ideas and, in fairness to him, we did arrive on time for our plane and with nary and accident to speak of. 

The occasion was obviously playing on everyone's minds.  The Skipper was silent, for probably the longest period in the history of The Skipper, apart from some minor backseat (from the front seat) driving and song switching on the wireless. At least I assume it was a wireless for the 1950's shit coming out of it has no excuse being played on a stereo. Drac was either on the phone to his missus, who had called to let him know her water had broken (never mind, she could hold on until after the trip) or singing along to every piece of shit song being played.  The Beach was grinning, somewhat foolishly.  Sooty was polishing his dome.  The Coach was gabbing - no one was listening.  The Rad was preening and Vic was telling stories.  Stories of past loves and bodily fluids.  Stories that couldn't possibly be told in any other environment than a boys only drunken fishing trip.  Unfortunately for those present, we were not drunk, not fishing and still in the car on the way to the airport, having detoured past Cu Chi fucking tunnels.

Scene 2 - The flight

Having arrived at the airport safely and on time, although somewhat exhausted from the detour, we all piled our tickets and passports over to the check in chick, after flirting outrageously with the little cute queue control girl who was admiring our fine physiques in our free form darts shirts. 

Seats arranged and baggage safely stowed, we proceeded through security screening without a hint of a snifffer dog's nose up anyone's butts.  Through to the departure hall without a single rubber gloving, we promptly lost Vic and The Coach to the smoker's room and a few others to the ever so hygienic airport dunny. 

With only a few minutes to spare to boarding, the lads proceeded down the stairs and onto the bus, which was to drive us to the other side of the airport to board our twin prop destined for Phu Quoc.  Thankfully, the driver of the bus knew where he was going, unlike the driver of the Coach, and we arrived at the plane without noticeable incident.

Boarding the plane, it became apparent that I was to be seated next to The Skipper. Without earplugs, I was sure I was in for a commentary on how to fly the plane but, no, to my surprise, the occasion was still getting the better of him and he was silent for most of the flight.  The Coach was plugged into his MP3 and mouthing the words to some hideous songs.  Drac was scanning people's hairlines to see if anyone was balder than him and decided that Sooty was.  Sooty was still polishing, I was still preening, The Beach still grinning and Vic was, well, still telling us about his slightly overweight ex and bodily fluids....

The flight was uneventful and we landed with barely a bump and we all stood up in unison, a merry band of Orangemen.  Everyone was in good spirits, we had finally arrived, the drinking could begin. We all began to smile like The Beach.  That was, until, a highly distasteful odour permeated the plane.  Stuck in traffic, there was nowhere to run.  Nowhere to hide.  It was everywhere.  All engulfing.  I recognized the tell tale signs of a Vic special.  Silent, insidious and fkn disgusting.  There was no hope for it, all one could do was look offended and disgusted so the other passengers would not think it them. 

Accusations started to fly.  "Vic, was that you?"  "If it was me, I would own up to it", was the highly convincing reply.  Maybe it wasn't Vic.  Maybe it was someone else.  Shit, maybe it was even me and I didn't know it. 

Whoever it was, it was WRONG.  Not nice.  Not sociable.  And we needed to get off the plane.  Luckily, the queue started moving and the stench was left behind for the poor wee souls behind us.

Off the plane and straight out the door for a smoke for most of the crew, and a confession from Vic.  Exiting the arrival hall, there he stood - Jimmy the Fish, standing in his King Gee Stubbies, Hawaiian shirt and thongs.  Looking for all intents and purposes like a person who has spent way too long on an island.  The only thing left to do was wait for the bags. 

Finally they arrived and into the taxis that Jimmy the Fish had so kindly arranged and off to the hotel for a quick shower before the barbie and beer. 

Scene 3 - The Shower

Censored

Scene 4 - The First Barbie

After a 15 minute ablution, we all arrived on the upstairs balcony. 

The balcony was the perfect setting for a boys' weekend.  High, with a nice view of not much, a beautiful breeze, a barbie, an esky full of pre chilled beer (and ice), a couple of boxes of meat and a two foot high wobbly safety railing that someone was no doubt going to fall over or through within 5 minutes of opening the first beer. 

Drastic action had to be taken and with some minor rearrangement of the concrete park benches an effective barrier was created in front of the ‘safety railing' and the beer drinking began.

The Skipper, by this stage, had fired up.  Tongs in hand, no one else was getting a look in and the BBQ king was off to work.  No one was complaining coz no one's better with a sausage than our Skipper and a mighty fine feed was prepared. 

Scene 5 - A spot of Fishing

With a sausage or two in our gobs and a half dozen beers in our guts, we all felt suitably satiated and ready for some small ‘f' fishing. 

I must admit, I was somewhat surprised by this, as I had, until this moment, thought fishing was a ruse to get away from our respective bits of fluff and spend a weekend sucking piss and hanging out in seedy strip joints.  But no, I was wrong.  We were going fishing.  Jimmy the Fish actually did have a boat and there were no seedy strip joints on Phu Quoc.

Fishing trips just ain't what they used to be...

A short taxi trip to Jimmy the Fish's (or is that Jimmy the Fishes) boat and it became apparent that there were only two ways onto the boat.  To swim - the option taken by most men of action.  Or to sit in the little coracle like a girl with the valuables and be paddled out by Jimmy the Fish's cabin boy, funnily enough, named Roger.  Where the fuck was the Jetty?  What kind of operation was this?  With such a decision to be made, there was nothing for it.  In jumped Drac and I into the coracle and told Roger to hop to it. 

The others, by this time, up to their necks in water scorned us.  But Drac and I were doing a valuable service for everyone that they really never quite appreciated.  We were keeping the valuables dry and safe.  No other reason for it.  We both used to swim fucking marathons!  Fucking unappreciative fuckers!

Onto the boat we piled.  Drac and I and more importantly the valuables, safe and dry.  The others wet and somewhat unfortunately, shirtless.  Another reason why girls were not allowed on the weekend.

Off we went, the diesel fumes mixing sweetly with the fresh odour of the sea.  Out to the middle of the ocean for a spot of fishing. 

Friday's fishing was more a recreational affair.  Nothing serious.  No competition fishing on Friday.  Simply a chance to flex those rods, and get the fish thinking, in anticipation of some more serious stuff on Saturday.  Hence the small ‘f' fishing. 

With Roger ever so kindly baiting everyone's hooks, (it takes a while to get into stinking squid and fish guts mode, especially when one was thinking girlie bars and titties), the rods and hand lines plonked into the water in unison.  In unison that is with some idiots who decided spastic diving was the order of the day, jumping off the boat and scaring all the fish away.

Not to worry, nothing could stop Vic and he was the first of the weekend to pull a fish in.  A great moment for Vic and for all of us and no one begrudged him his 10.4 cm beauty.  It truly was a fight, but eventually he landed it only to realize that Phu Quoc fish haven't heard of tag and release and insist on swallowing the hook - hook, line and sinker, so to speak.  Nothing for it but to grab the fish in the Vic special headlock and gently rip the fucking guts out of the thing.  Actually, on the first fish of the day, the headlock might not have been there and Roger may have come to the rescue, but the headlock became Vic's trademark after that fish.

Guts all over him.  One or two fish eyes stuck to his cheek, Vic's line was back in the water quicker than a quick thing.  The unofficial contest had begun.  The contest that all men can't help but be a part of when confronted with a spot of hunting.  Who can kill the most and the biggest.  Who is the biggest man.  Who has the biggest knob.  As things stood, we were all knobless to Vic's ten foot phallus.

This couldn't go unchallenged and it wasn't long before The Skipper pulled up an octopus.  An octopus in a borrowed shell.  An octopus the size of a doughnut, when it had its legs outstretched. The most pitiful creature one had ever seen.  The poor little thing shat itself and dumped its shell and wandered around the boat.  Calls of ‘throw it on the barbie tonight' went up.  The animal instinct having surfaced.  But I would have none of it.  ‘Throw the fucking thing back' I cried.  And thrown back it was.  But for the rest of the weekend, they all begrudged me that one occy leg, the size of a small finger, that could have been theirs.

As things stood, we had one fish and one octopus, The Beach having earlier snagged an octopus only for it to jump ship before boarding.  Beer in hand, we were all getting merrily pissed and fish started to flow.  With the Rad in charge of the music, everyone appreciated the sounds of 50 Cent P.I.M.P and other such numbers and not a single sledge was heard.  The faux Ipod was a raging success, despite Drac doing his utmost to fuck the thing up the night before by wiping all the music!

Scene 6 - The Second Barbie

Having drunk all the beer on the boat, it was time to head back to shore, with Drac and myself again keeping the valuables safe and dry for everyone.  A quick beer or two at the local beach bar, some take away salad ordered and it was onto some motor bike taxis we jumped, smelling worse than the drivers and back to the hotel for a quick scrub and tug and up for another barbie and more beer drinking.

Like with the first barbie, The Skipper was in charge, telling anyone who would listen, the finer points of grilling meat.  And, in fairness to him, he is mighty handy with the meat is our Skipper.  Another wonderful culinary treat served by Chef Skipper, with Snotty sucking on every bit of cucumber he could find in the salad.

Off for a piss I went, and on my return I was greeted with a trail of blood up the stairs, a puddle here and there and a smear or two to boot.  What the fuck?  Upon further enquiry it transpired that Jimmy the Fish had cut himself on some ice and trickled blood everywhere. 

Vic on the other hand was putting on a display of martial arts for all and sundry, smashing blocks of ice with his fists of steel.  Unfortunately for Vic, the ice wasn't as soft as water and his fists of steel came off a bit worse for wear.  Luckily Dr Coach was on hand with his medical kit to betadine Vic and plaster him everywhere but the cuts.

Two casualties from what essentially constitutes water in one night.  Hard as nails we are.

With the music still going strong, Alice Cooper - Only Woman Bleed, and many a beer later - it was decided that a change of venue was in order.

Calls of "Boom Boom Room" went up from the Rad.  No, it is not a girlie bar, as I had hoped, or a knock shop as one might think.  It is, in fact, a local nightclub.

But the others would have none of it.  The Skipper in particular wanted somewhere where everyone could hear him, and it was voted that we would head to some other place, the name of which I do not know, for reasons that will become apparent later.  Unfortunately, getting taxis can be somewhat of a problem in the tropical paradise of Phu Quoc and we proceeded to walk to find some motorbike taxis who would accept 10,000VND instead of the highway robbery of 15,000VND wanted by the guys next to our hotel.

Scene 7 - The Separation, the Boom and the Brawl

Having struggled to find sufficient motorbikes to Name of Place I do not Know, it was decided that we would go in batches with the few drivers we had, with them taking some and returning for others.  It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Unfortunately, with the others gone, Jimmy the Fish, The Beach and I, were left to our own devices.  After waiting what seemed like three hours for the bikes to return (but was probably only 10 minutes), we decided that enough was enough and Jimmy the Fish waylaid a car, with threats of violence and general familial intimidation, and in we piled.  But if that wasn't enough, Jimmy the Fish had had a change of heart and decided that we should go to the Boom Boom Room after all and to hell with the others.  This having been my original choice, I was all for it.  The Beach, seemed less keen, but with few options.  A quick call to Vic to tell him where we were off to and off to the Boom Boom Room we ventured.

Fuck it was loud.  Like all good Vietnamese clubs.  I guess it also explained its name.  We all looked a bit dazed and shocked but there was nothing for it and into the mix we went.  A few drinks later and a bit of foot stomping and I was having a ball.  Jimmy the Fish was nonplussed and The Beach was tense.  So tense in fact that there was a bit of niggle, something we had been sorely missing of late in the darts team, between him and a 4 foot 3 gay boy who insisted on pushing past The Beach at every opportunity when he could have just gone around. 

Words were exchanged.  Death stares given.  Nothing could be heard, due to the din but things were definitely getting heated. 

Having decided that a slap fest with a bunch of gay boys was somewhat beneath us, Jimmy the Fish lead the way out the door, although at this stage neither he nor I were aware of how offended the mighty cock sucking midget was.  Outside he followed us, with his mates, who happened to be good blokes and who kept apologizing for him, and the abuse continued. 

The Beach was not amused.  The Rad, in a break from tradition, tried to be the peacemaker and was also abused for his efforts.  Thinking enough was enough, Jimmy the Fish stepped in and palmed the wee lad in the chest and sent him back ten feet and said ‘fuck off you little cunt" or some such thing.  Things could have turned ugly.  The boys were starting to get annoyed.  A warning was given that some serious tearing apart was about to take place and then, the foolish wee lad realized the error of his ways and apologized profusely and into a cab hopped Jimmy the Enforcer, myself and The Beach.  Another night of niggle and Vic nowhere to be seen.  It just wasn't the same.

Let me warn all young folk about the dangers of drinking.  We took a taxi home.  The Beach and Jimmy sat in a pool of urine or beer or something on the back seat.  The next day Jimmy insisted he took his motorbike home, forgetting he also took a car out to Boom Boom Room with us. The Beach and I were convinced that the female taxi driver was somewhat of a babe in a slutty, headjob lips kind of way.  And generally, perception was impaired.  More on this later.

Scene 8 - Another Spot of Fishing Anyone? - The second separation

Back at the hotel at about 12am and Jimmy headed for the balcony to see if anyone else was about, The Beach and I headed for our rooms saying enough was enough - knowing that we had a 7.30am fishing start the next day for Big ‘F' Fishing.  Competition Day.

It wasn't long before the noise of the others returning from Name of Place I do Not Know (but have just learnt from further enquiry was Eden Bar) could be heard from the sanctity of my bed.  And it wasn't long before the messages from Drac arrived, saying ‘come up for a beer'.  Promptly ignoring Drac, it was off to sleep I drifted only to receive a bang on the door at about 2.30am.  ‘What the fuck", I thought.  Staggering to the door I opened it a squeak to be greeted by The Skipper jibbering something about going fishing ‘best time for fishing.  We're taking Jimmy's boat.  You in?'

"Fuck off" I said and slammed the door on him.  Back to my bed and back to sleep.  A bang on the door an hour later.  "What the fuck", I thought.  Satggering to the door, I opened it to be greeted by The Skipper slurring "we're going now.  All the guys are going.  Sure you don't want to come.  Best time for fishing.  Last chance".

"Fuck off" I said and slammed the door on him and back to bed I went in a useless attempt to get back to sleep.

6.30am. Curled up in bed, thinking - do I need to get up for fishing at 7.30am or are the others still out there somewhere, bobbing in the ocean?  Not wanting to be the only one not ready, I hopped up and showered and stuck my head outside my door to see The Coach, in a somewhat similar state to me, also wondering where the others were, having also been woken in the middle of the night and having also uttered the words "fuck off".

With no idea where anyone else was, we ventured over the road to meet Maurice at the Hop in Café for a full English breakfast.  A few phone calls and text messages later, the Beach joined us but no one else was contactable.  Drowned?  It was the thought running through our minds, but the breakfast was good, so no need to worry.

When confronted with the story of the missing fisherman, Maurice was heard to utter, ‘tell Jimmy he's a dickhead'. Which we would have been happy to do, assuming he hadn't drowned and we could find him.

What were we to do?  The three of us standing around with nowhere to go.  Now several hours after the 7.30am official start of competition fishing day, with no boat, no team mates and no fucking idea what was going on.   Thanks lads.  Thanks very much.

Nothing for it, it was back to bed for me and back to the beach for a romantic stroll for The Coach and The Beach.  But no sooner had I put my head down than I received a call from The Coach to say The Skipper and Drac had been located.  They were at Grant's Pearl Farm.  Vic and Snooty had been with them but disappeared in the middle of the night and no one knew where they were and Jimmy the Fish, who went off to get his boat in the middle of the night, never returned with it.

A few moments later, another call.  Vic and Salty had been located and Jimmy had been contacted and was on his way to us and then we were off to the Pearl Farm for the fishing.  10.30am - better than nothing.

Scene 9 - The Pearl Farm and Fishing

So with Jimmy's arrival, it was into a taxi we piled (although Jimmy did ride his bike this time to get his boat) and it was the same taxi driver from the night before, only she weren't no babe.  In fact, those headjob lips looked kind of scary and her pimple pocked face was not an attractive sight.  Now I don't want to speak bad about someone's looks, given the ugly bunch of fuckers I had gone away with, but I tell this story as a warning to young players about the dangers of drinking.  BTW - The Beach rightly called it that there was definitely something odd about her and she may well have been offering other services than driving a taxi.

Nuff said.

Arriving at the Pearl Farm. What a fucking sight - there was The Skipper, Vic, Sooty and Grant (who had been picked up somewhere in the middle of the night) all looking like shit.  Grant in particular a frightful sight with hair standing on end!

Drac, on the other hand, was curled up sound asleep in the hammock and not stirring for anyone. 

A phone call or two later and Jimmy the Dead Fish was located and off we trecked, cases of beer and eskies of meat in hand to Jimmy's boat.  This time Drac and I swam out to the boat with the others, just to show them we weren't nancies, through the diesel slick and millions of little fish that swim as well as Vietnamese ride motorbikes, bumping into us more often than not. 

Onto the boat and out to sea we went.  For some reason Jimmy the Fish forgot we were meant to be fishing off the Pearl Farm and we headed off to the deep blue yonder (which is a mixed metaphor or something like that but anyway).  It took a while for Jimmy to wake up to the fact we were meant to be fishing off the Pearl Farm but by that stage it was too late and a sea journey was well underway. 

With beer flowing again, people started to liven up.  All except Drac, who sat catatonic all day.  More and more beer and finally Vic and the Rad asked Jimmy to weigh anchor (is that a fishing term?) and lets fish.  Jimmy, knowing better, said, "No fish in these parts boys" but we would have none of his wisdom and threatened mutiny unless we could dip our rods quick smart.

So weigh anchor he did.  And fishing we did, with Vic and The Skipper off to a fast start.  I was on the rod to start with and Jimmy the Fish had hooked me up with the world's largest hook and a whole squid stuck to the end, reasoning that without a big hook and big bait, you couldn't catch a big fish.  After about half an hour of ridicule for being the only one not catching anything, I said fuck that you Jimmy the Fish cunt, I'm going to the hand line and no sooner had I done so than on jumped the Monster.  The biggest fish for the trip.  It was unbelievable.   Truly a marvel and a good half an hour to land the bugger, but eventually I landed him, getting the others to make room on the boat and my fishing immortality had begun.

Nothing after that mattered.  Vic's and The Skipper's pathetic contest for most number of pip squeaks.  Drac's fishing without having bait on his hook.  The Beach's pissing whilst swimming or The Coach's general good humour that, in a hung over state, could have brought him well and truly undone. 

It was all immaterial, for I had landed the Monster. 

Now others may tell a slightly different tale of events and try to diminish my triumph but none can deny that I caught the biggest fish.  Admittedly, I promptly washed my hands in a bucket of Omo to get the fish stink off them but nonetheless, I had the Biggest!

Scene 10 - The return, or not, as the case may be

Having decided that Jimmy the Fish may in fact know a thing or two about fishing in them there parts after all, we agreed to let him take us to another place for some big game fishing (or at least some fishing with fish bigger than a thimble).

Unfortunately, due to mechanical problems we were forced to stay where we were a while.

Not to be put off, we unpacked our rods and reels again, baited up and fished for another couple of hours, drinking much beer and enjoying another Skipper sausage fest. Roger, Jimmy the Fish's cabin boy, also tucked in and cooked up many a fish and had his own little feast.  But it has to be admitted, not one of us so much as tasted a fish the entire trip.   Next year we're going cow hunting!

[Editor's note - a few events have been deleted from the chronicles at this point].

...

Scene 11 - The Final Barbie and the fizzle

With the fishing over, we were back on dry land at last.  Back to the hotel for a shower and for Vic to wash off the fish eyes still stuck to his cheek from the day before. 

A quick kip by some - Vic and Drac, and the rest of us were upstairs for some more beer and meat.  Jimmy the Fish had gone home.  Needing a rest after the shenanigans of the night before and we were down to 5.  The Skipper didn't disappoint.  No kipping for him and he was straight onto the barbie and cooked up the hamburger patties, many a steak and whatever else he could find, with Grant turning up just in time for a meat patty.

Not wanting Vic and Drac to miss the fun, we attempted to rouse them only to be met with snores from Vic and nothing from Drac because no on knew what room he was in.

After many an attempt Vic was finally up, with Drac not far behind.  A bit of beer and a feed and it was all go, except we were all knackered and the evening fizzled out to a non-event with one by one people disappearing off to bed, leaving only Sulky, THE VIC MACHINE and myself to soldier on.

So a few beers later and off we went to the best SEEDY BARS MONEY COULD BUY.  Girls all over us.  The time of our lives. 

Actually, that's a lie.  We staggered off to a beach bar for a cocktail on the beach, a bit of friendly advice from Vic to the barman about turning the fucking music up and general unsteadiness brought on by a bad case of sea legs. 

One drink later and with our hearts not in it, we returned to our rooms and off to bed.

Scene 12 - The breakfast, the flight and "will you give us a cuddle"

With a good night's sleep in all of us it was off to Maurice's Hop In Café for a full English breakfast.  Jimmy the Fish was there to, which was good to see and our trip had basically come to an end.

To the airport and a quick flight home and our trip was officially over.

But we were having none of it.  Having started at the Bong, we decided to finish at the Bong, so off to the Bong we went for a few beers. 

When I left, with only The Beach, Vic and Drac still there, everyone was in good shape.  When I returned to the Blue Gecko three hours later, things were a bit messy.  One nameless gentleman was asking everyone for a cuddle, including blokes and then proceeded to call out "nine percent" for no apparent reason.  He left not long after, forgetting his bag. 

The trip was over.  We all still had wobbly legs but much fun was had.

Jimmy the Fish put on the weekend of our lives and we had an absolute ball.  Three beers for Jimmy the Fish!

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