Damn and blast it that was close. Seven of my favourite surface lures for a bargain basement price were within my grasp. I could almost feel them with how close they were ending up in my lure boxes for considerably less than these not exactly cheap lures usually cost - but then my twat of a mate went and bloody ruined it. Selfish, rotten, sneaky, fish-catching bastard. If only he hadn’t gone and caught that good bass I’d have been home and dry……………

You can’t help but default to a particular lure which has worked so well for you, and considering that my biggest ever shore caught bass came on the Spittin’ Wire surface lure, it is only natural that I have a bit of a thing for them. What another angler buys for themselves to fish with is entirely up to them, but my mate Steve had obviously lowered himself to read my blog when I first came across these lures a few years ago, and he rather quietly and sneakily gathered unto himself a collection of seven brand new and very shiny Spittin’ Wire lures. Where he found them all I have no idea, because when I was first put onto them they were not exactly very easy to track down, but he’s a bit of a ninja on the internet. I know how much pleasure it would give Simple “Stee” Steve to be able to nonchalantly dig into a lure box and oh look at this new lure as he clips it on and whacks it out.

A couple of summers ago Steve came to stay for a few days and we were catching a few bass off the top here in south east Cornwall, and I could almost feel his brain cogs whirring away as he unclipped his Patchinko 125 and as if by magic clip one of his new Spittin’ Wires was out in the open air. I had one on already and was catching on it and it obviously gave me no pleasure at all to see Steve whack his out, give it a bit of a go, catch nothing on it, and then go back to his Patchinko and start catching again! I was catching on the Spittin’ Wire but Steve didn’t, and I know full well he was thinking something along the lines of that Gilbey twat blogging about these perfectly useless surface lures. I would like it known that I did not take the piss at all that afternoon!

So Steve’s not exactly feeling the love with his shiny new Spittin’ Wire lures, and we were soon due to head off on a south coast of Ireland bass fishing trip. I may or may not have wound him a bit more about his growing distrust of my favourite surface lure, and I kinda floated it out there that I’d be happy to buy the lot off him at a decent second hand price of course if they didn’t do any good for him on our Ireland trip. And yes, I will fully admit to wishing all kinds of Spittin’ Wire based ill fishing fortune upon Steve for this particular trip. I always want the people I am fishing with to catch as many good fish as possible, but here are seven of my favourite surface lures within my grasp and all that needs happen is that Steve does no good on them at all when we are over in Ireland. Another week or so of not catching on his new lures and they will be mine. I want him to catch fish of course, but if he clips on the Spittin’ Wire then I’d prefer it if the fish suddenly got a case of lockjaw and swam straight by with their middle fingers extended. Seven shiny lures which I have got a serious thing for and I can literally visualise them hopping into my lure boxes with not even a backward glance at their previous owner.……………

For whatever reasons, we did very little surface lure fishing on that Irish trip, indeed from memory we got a few days of hectic conditions and did well in the surf. I’m made up. We are catching fish, I am learning more and more about metals in the surf especially, I am getting plenty of photographs for my library, and Steve is definitely not feeling any more love for his strange shaped surface lures that so float my boat. I believe I made a few references to wanting a really good price for his collection at the end of the trip, and I could feel the bloke starting to crumble. I had a few crispy Euro notes which are always useful if you go to Ireland a lot, and I obviously made sure to tell Steve just enough how good he was at fishing with the Patchinko and did he remember that August afternoon in Cornwall when he couldn’t buy a bite on the Spittin’ Wire? “Steve, you are such a natural with the Patchinko, the way you twitch it is pure artistry, I love watching you and your cack-handed casting, perhaps you skilful ways are better suited to the Patchinko and the Spittin’ Wire just isn’t made for you.” Something along those lines anyway.

And then one morning we ended up at a location where we can really spread out. I have walkie-talkies for the guys to carry in case somebody catches a good fish and can put it in a rockpool or keep hold of it in the water while I get to them for some photographs, and Steve came over the radio to say that he had landed a bass of about 4lbs and it was on the Spittin’ Wire. “That’s great news Steve, I am so pleased for you, and on the Spittin’ Wire? Great!” I think I said, but internally I was churning. Damn, he’s gone and nailed a bass on his jonah lure, but as nice as a 4lb bass is, it’s 4lbs and not say 6lbs plus. He had to be due at least one starving bass on one of his seven shiny surface lures, but I think it’s okay, it’s the one fish, and I bet he takes the lure off now he knows there are bass around and instead goes to something like the Patchinko 125 which I know he trusts completely.

But he bloody doesn’t. Nope, the stubborn old git only goes and keeps his Spittin’ Wire on, and now I can almost see the confidence start to flow through his incredibly manly frame. I head over to join Steve and Carl as we begin to work a section of reef which to be honest still haunts me a bit because it is where I hooked and lost what I believe was the biggest bass I have ever tangled with a few years ago. So here is charitable old me that September morning, internally hoping that golden balls doesn’t connect with any more bloody bass on his shiny Spittin’ Wire. Cack-handed cast after cack-handed cast goes out and I am within sodding touching distance of seven more Spittin’ Wire surface lure to add to my collection. Do I need seven more when I don’t think I have actually lost one yet? Obviously not, but you and I both know that’s got nothing to do with it. I love the lures and I need more like a crack addict needs their rock. I can see that the one 4lb bass on this lure has pricked Steve’s interest, but surely if he catches no more I’m in with a shout here. I am not proud to admit that I was literally sending ill fishing fortune vibes through my walkie-talkie as I encouraged the elder statesman to wade out a bit deeper and please don’t fall over because it would not be remotely amusing. “Just over there Steve, that’s around where I lost that donkey a few years ago.” Bless him, he was about half a mile away, but what’s a few hundred yards between friends?

I know that Mark and I landed a bass, and I am pretty sure that Carl did as well, but Steve has had no more. I know I should be willing him on to fill his boots with fine bass, but I am ashamed to admit that I was not. I’d kinda like it if he went and slipped over on the shallow reef and filled his waders so we would have to head back to the rental house to dry out and I reckon he’d have given up on the Spittin’ Wires and taken my crispy Euros. But no such bloody luck. I am watching my own lure walking across the ruffled surface and I happen to glance over to my left where Steve has so manly waded out to about calf-deep. Damn, damn, damn, he’s bent into a fish and it looks like a good one. “Well done Steve” I yelled at him, but was I really thinking that? Was I hell. As his rod bangs over again and again I can visualise that bargain box of seven fine surface lures just out of touch and disappearing from my outstretched hand like England in the rugby World Cup final last year. Hell, I’d take a broken leader, a lost lure, and six instead of seven Spittin’ Wires for a cheap price, but no, Steve’s fish ain’t breaking him off over the shallow reef, and it was with a renewed sense of joy (mmm….) that I wandered over to congratulate him and fire off a few photos of his admittedly rather stunning 7lb+ Irish bass.

“Well done Steve, that’s fantastic, I am so pleased to see the Spittin’ Wire work for you”, and bless his cotton socks I think he believed me as tears of joy/rage spilled forth from my eyes. “Makes my day that fish does Steve, it really does, it would have been awful if those lures hadn’t worked out for you, isn’t it amazing how (blind bloody luck) persistence pays off sometimes?” There’s Steve grinning away for a few grip and grin photos of his fine fish, basking in my outward show of joy and happiness at this capture, whereas in reality I am imaging that my lens is a rifle sight and my shutter release is the trigger. Steve unhooked his bass and grinned at me. Did he know what I was really thinking? Out of his mouth came some words that I had been dreading: “You were right Henry, those Spittin’ Wires are pretty good lures.” It would not be right of me to describe my thoughts to you at that precise moment in time. Seven of my favourite surface lures were not going to be mine for a bargain price. Damn and arse……………..

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About the only time I have wished for genuine ill fishing fortune upon a fishing mate

© Henry Gilbey 2023