Somehow, I can tell my mate's not impressed with my latest idea. No, it's not that pond I've been on about. Yes, it does have pike in it. Well one at least.
Look, it's another water. No, I don't know for certain if there are any in there, but there might be, you never know until you try.
So anyway, I was thinking about having a go with the lures one night after work. You fancy it..? Um, why's that so funny..?
Maybe my mate's had a tough day. Maybe he's been on that old moonshine they make down his way. Maybe he's just gone quietly off his chump since I last saw him. Oh, I see. Tres amusant, as people in France who have pike fishing blogs on the internet say.
I might be the world's worst lure angler, but I'm up for a shot on this new water on the off-chance there are some pike swimming unknown in its mysterious depths.
Tell you what, he says. You give it a go and let me know how you get on. If you catch any, I might come next time. How's that for a plan..?
I decide to forge ahead regardless. I will rise above this like Roy Hodgson, the England manager, who pressed on despite the sceptics who said if the Italians didn't beat us on penalties, we'd get knocked out by the Germans.
They didn't baulk at a challenge, did they - those lads with three lions on their shirt. I bet if Roy Hodgson had said look lads, I think there are a few pike in this water and I want Gerrard and Cole to give it a go on lures after the game, they'd have gone for it.
My mate finds this a difficult analogy to get to grips with. Wh'uddya mean four-eyes, he asks, I thought we got beat by the h'itallyuns.
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