10 things we hate about summer

1 Sunburn

Since I was a child, I’ve always associated a ‘healthy tan’ as a sign of good health. Through being scorched for days while floater fishing, or laying on the bedchair in a lager-induced haze, I still thought the same. The fact that the sun’s effects are doubled when reflecting off water I saw as a handy by-product of my hobby. Silly, just plain bloody silly. Sunblock’s okay, but there’s that one small patch on your back you can’t reach, known as the ‘red diamond’.

2 Shorts

Whether it’s a set of Don Estelles, 80’s footballers, Blackpool roll-ups or a traditional army breek, take a look in the mirror first mate, you may, just may, be looking a twerp. If you don’t, when you go angling, nettle stings, bracken burns, thicket rash and bark bruises will ensure you do by 3pm.

3 Hats

While the pragmatic practicality of a baseball cap is hard to beat, people still try to. Why-oh-why (nearly spells you-yo) do carpers over-indulge with headwear? Floppy hats, cowboy hats (wear a f***ing poncho) and even beanies are being utilised in the summer months. Man-up and knot a hanky, twerp.

4 The gents

You’ve arrived at dawn. You’ve placed your baits, your bivvy, your weekend in the plot before the sun swings around and starts to gently heat your dugout. The flies start as the eye-watering aroma of ammonia-based lager-wee pervades your weekend. Why? The last angler, or maybe a random passing-pisser has ‘taken a Kevin’ in your plot. Eeeurgh!

5 The Reverse Panda

You’ve spent the day squinting onto the sun’s reflection on the ripples pushed into your plot by a southwesterly. You’ve forgotten everything as you stare in awe through your polaroids at blue-backed leviathans ignoring your baits. You leave demoralised, only to take-off your bins and peep in the mirror at your purple, raw-burnt face and white eyes. The Reverse Panda. Please note that the ‘Reverse Panda’ is often accompanied by white lines across the temples, also known as a ‘Grandmaster Flash’.

6 Cruising carp

I remember the summer days of my youth being blighted by cruising carp. Now, while distinctly visible, these beasts would show no interest whatsoever in an angler’s bait. Floaters, Zigs, pop-ups… All were tried with similar results. But why will one always take a floater? One floater, never any more, just to keep you burning for another hour or six.

7 Milk going off

Okay, so the 2pm cuppa went well and your garage pint looks like it’s going to do the session. Bet you the 4pm brew sees the equivalent of 50mm of cottage cheese or goat semen deposited into the flotsam on your fresh brew.

8 Sleepless nights

If it’s not the mozzies, it’s the heat on a short summer’s night that precludes sleep. You don’t want your sleeping bag, it’s too hot. But leaving off the cover makes you feel like you’re sleeping in a packed Wembley, pre-cup final. Have a cup of tea… Nope; the Caffeine-based pick-me-up won’t see you getting down. Beer just sees you peeing; your food’s gone-off and I’ve eaten all your biscuits. You have a walk around, but feel like a nonce at night… And why does nothing happen when you watch the water? Never mind, it’ll be light soon…

9 Betty swallocks

Three days in to your summer session you decide to change your shreddies. Funny how you smell the trawler going past but never see it? Note to self: bring baby wipes next time. Note to you: it’s like wiping an elephant’s arse with a piece of confetti.

10 Mozzies

We’ve all been there, the day has given way to night, you’re comfortable in your pit, Cheryl Cole’s beckoning you into dreamland and ‘Niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii…’. You clump yourself ‘round the lughole, but in seconds “Niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii…” he’s back. Another clumping gives around to a flapping and a slapping of every surface in your hut, including yourself. Satisfied you’ve killed or scared-off the winged assailant you drift off to find Cheryl’s had to go, but Pat Butcher’s there if you’d like? You wake in the morning and look up to see a mosquito hanging in the spokes, laughing, the size of a chipolata. And then the itching starts…