Fishy Business

If only it was this exciting

Bugger me if this last weekend didn't present me with the most freakish sight. Perusing the TV listings for the weekend I discovered that Sky Sports 2 was broadcasting Fish O Mania, five and a half hours of live - yes, live - fishing. On Saturday. And on Sunday. 
I'm almost at a loss for words but, fearing a revolt from you kraken-followers, I'll cobble one or two together. Would you mind if the first word I used was...
...Fuck. Me. It's hard to imagine what a total of 11 hours of live fishing coverage must look like but let's just say that Dulux could probably sponsor it as a less exciting alternative to watching magnolia emulsion dry in a downstairs toilet. 
Who in the frig settles down for a weekend of live fishing coverage on the telly? Thing is, if you like fishing get the frig out there and do it yourself. It's hardly one of those inaccessible sports that we can only experience from the sofa, is it? It's not the fucking bobsled. Or the Tour de France. It's fishing. F.I.S.H.I.N.G. It's sitting on a river bank with a rod, a bag of maggots and an arse even number than an Eskimo's.
Course, I'm blogging here about a show I didn't even watch. I couldn't bring myself to do it. I should have, though, because now I am obsessing over what the fuck Sky found to fill 11 watery hours. Unless it was the drama of fishermen being swallowed whole by line-caught sharks I'm at a loss. Perhaps it went something like this:


Opening Credits
Cut to commentator
Commentator nudged awake
Cut to riverbank
Close up of water
Action shot of maggots
Cut to competitor
Competitor nudged awake
Commentator says "Big rod"
Cut to water
Action shot of grass
Competitor starts snoring
Cut to sleeping maggots
Action shot of twitching rod
Commentator says "For fuck's sake"
Closing credits


So that's 11 full hours of fuck all that I've saved you there. Don't say that I never give you anything.