Hardy, my man, do you mind if I refrain from answering your line ... quote: Cry's his Chinese Lady You have a whopper.

I feel we should keep this thread seemly. I started to write in keeping with Shakespeare, but I have now drifted to poetry more in line with Percy Byce Shelly. You would be forgiven for suggesting I have gone from Bard to verse.

To continue:

Hangler is a clever sod.
He wants to buy a brand new rod.
On second thoughts he has a few.
He thinks it better to buy two.

He searched the net, which got a blasting.
All he found were rods for casting.
Not a rod for bite detection.
He thought he better change direction.

All he hoped for, just a wish.
Good rods to handle larger fish.
His reels both loaded with good braid.
He felt the fish should be afraid.

Bait clips, sinkers, swivels too.
He cast, and bid them fond adieu.
Their future had been firmly mapped.
The moment that the leader snapped.

He tried once more, just like a matrix.
Gear supplied by Tackle Tactics.
Second cast just hit the spot.
He'd recalled to wet the leader knot.

He thought that he would start anew.
The second effort straight and true.
Thinking he was truly blessed.
He placed the rods both in their rest.

Soon a rod dipped, to late, he missed.
By now our Hangler was truly ... upset.
So what to do, there's just one thing.
The secret sparkle from Sue's bling.

The next anchovy, hook impaled.
Horizon bound, where it got nailed.
A fight just like a tug of war.
The fish gained some, but I gained more.

My wife was really gaining traction.
Capturing all this fearsome action.
Deserving, surely, much reward.
Perhaps, who knows, a Bafta award.

The ray, subdued upon the sand.
Looked rather strange on solid land.
Hangler, so pleased with his catch.
The bling won through, ray met its match.

The point here may be rather mute.
Use a necklace, and studs to suit.
I'm sure young Sue will surely see.
Her jewellery box is not for free.

Send Sue a text, perhaps a ring.
And she'll supply you with the bling.
Right now Sue may be right bereft.
Gary went fishing, there's not much left.

The moral of this story told.
That is, should I be so bold.
I'll keep myself just out of reach.
The'll be no meeting on the beach.

No means to challenge bling and cray.
I'm happy catching tope and ray.
Although you'll think it rather odd.
I'd be all to pleased with a prime red cod.

Hardy, I think you better explain to hb fisher that Gary is a very good mate of yours and you constantly throw jibes at each other.

Oh dear, I guess that's the end of that.