Post by theoldfart on Feb 24, 2012 19:32:30 GMT
Was it only six months ago, that I sat in the doctor’s surgery and read an article that would lead me on a quest that would change my life forever?
I had gone for my monthly check up and after arriving at the surgery, found that the waiting time was down to only 17 hours as they were running early for once.
To pass the time I decided to read some of the periodicals that were laid on the table for my entertainment.
After reading the headlines it seemed quite apparent that the situation in Europe was becoming severe, and if we did not act quickly then Kaiser Bill could start some serious trouble in Johnny Frog Land.
I was about to carefully replace the crusted magazine back on the table, when a small article caught my eye.
It could have been easily missed as it was between an advertisement for’ Vick’s Menthol Suppositories’ and… The chance to win an all expensive paid trip on the maiden voyage of the new super liner that was being built, ‘The Titanic’.
All you had to do was collect 1,000 cigarette cards, win the competition and avoid terminal lung cancer before the voyage, and the trip of a lifetime would be yours.
However the article I had spotted, told the tale of a mystical the lost valley , high in the Himalayan Mountains.
Living in this valley, it was said was an ancient Fakir, who possessed six magical stones, each of which would bring the owner unlimited luck!
Immediately I decided that I must find the old Fakir and get the stones. With them I would win every fishing competition and catch every species of fish I went after. I would become the greatest fisherman the world had ever known.
And if they really worked I would be guaranteed to never meet Keith Arthur.
I knew the challenge would be great, but to me it would be worth it.
It was bad enough listening to ‘Fisherman’s Blues’ , without the chance of meeting him at an airport.
I returned home and immediately packed my Swiss Army Jock Strap for my trip to India.
Secrecy was all important ; so posing as a cricket correspondent for the ‘Isle of Wight Morris Dancers and Ferret Buggers Weekly,’ I managed to obtain a cheap ticket with one of the fleet of lories returning empty, to the Far East; having delivered their cargo of illegal immigrants to Birmingham.
A week later I arrived in India and headed north towards the Himalayan Mountains.
The trek was arduous and toilet facilities non-existent,(not good when your staple diet is curry), but persevering I finally arrived at a village called ‘Flatulence’ where I got my first piece of good fortune.
The local tribal elder had heard of the ‘lost valley’ and even told me the name of it. It was called Jur Dan, which was Hindu for ‘Lost Valley’.
Many had searched for it I was told, but none had set eyes upon it, except for a one eyed Scotsman and riding blind Yak.
Could this be the man who had returned with the story of the fabled stones? Spurred on by the knowledge that if a Scotsman could do it ,I could. I made my plans.
I decided to copy the Jock and purchased a blind Yak, from ‘Honest Hafiz’s, Used Yak and Donkey Exchange.’ (‘One lady owner and only 150 miles on the clock, honest, Sahib.’)
Progress towards the distant peaks was slow as the bugger kept walking into walls, but after a month we had travelled the two miles to the next village, where upon I traded $50 for further information from the owner of a local ale house, where they sold a fine local brew made from distilled Yeti crap. Well that is what it tasted like!
Shaking his head sadly and warning me against going further, he reluctantly pointed me in the right direction.
‘You must follow the mountain trail until you reach the ‘Amal Passage’ at the bottom of the two mountains known as ‘Buttock Peaks’, from there you will follow the path and find what you desire, but it is a path followed by no sane man.’
Never the less I set out on my trusty Yak (who I had called Referee, as he was blind), and started to climb higher and higher into the unknown wilderness.
Frost bite and lack of soft toilet paper began to take their toll, but upward we climbed, high above the snow line.
A week later we ran out of food and two days later we had finished the last of the Kaolin and Morphine.
By now I had started to really hate the high mountains. I even deliberately woke up in the middle of the night ,just so I could hate them a bit longer
Reduced to a diet of Yak urine and frozen toes, I had reached the limit of my endurance and was about to give up; when I saw a rusty can of Mc Kewans laying in the snow.
I was on the right track!
Starving and thirsty we carried on, but I am no stranger to hardship.
I remember that dark winter of 47’ when things were so bad in our house, that I had to eat my own words to stay alive!
Suddenly there it was, ‘Buttock Peaks’, and the trail to the lost valley.
As we passed the rocks and carried on, I wondered if I was in fact, the first man to go up the Amal Passage into Jur Dan.
Seconds later my illusions were shattered when I saw ‘Pete was here’ scrawled on the canyon wall.
A day later we passed out of the passage, and there before us was the fabled lost valley.
To my surprise I was greeted by a naked man with a beard longer than a queue of creditors at a Portsmouth FC A G M .
‘You the one?’ he exclaimed in broken English. ‘You come for stones. You follow me now.’
Naturally I guessed that this was the Fakir, and followed him into an old cave.
Once inside the cave the old man passed me a small stone that had a hole through the middle.
‘You hold’ he said.
With that he produced a bow and arrow and fired the arrow out of the cave entrance.
‘See, see’ he shouted excitedly. ‘If I fired at you, you would be dead now! Lucky you holding stone’
My god, he was right. The stones really worked. I had to get them. Then I would be the greatest fisherman the world had ever known. I set out the things I had brought with me to barter for the stones.
Six copies of Angling Times, The Greatest Moments of Fisherman’s Blues, with Keith Arthur CD, (the full three minute version), and a packet of Ammo blast frozen sand ells.
The old man inspected them all then threw them in the fire.
‘What that crap? He asked. ‘You want stones you pay American Dollar or American Express. $1,000 each stone.’
Tight fisted Faiker!
Reluctantly I paid the old git and set off home with the stones.
The return journey was hardship beyond belief and without the stones I would never have made it.
Unfortunately my trusty stead was not so lucky.
Poor Referee, was ambushed and hacked to death, before being eaten by a band of deranged Leeds United Supporters who were uni-cycling naked across the Himalayan Mountains.
When I asked them why? They replied that ‘Anything was better than watching Leeds play at home.’
Back in India I changed my identity again, and posing as an illegal immigrant heading to England, I joined the convoy of lories headed towards Blighty.
Known as the DHSS Express the fleet of trucks took longer to return than it had on my outward journey. This explained the driver was because they had to go through Eastern Europe, France and Spain to pick up more passengers.
Finally we arrived back on English shores.
Straight away the stones began to work.
As an illegal immigrant I was immediately given a new house and £50K compensation as I had kept waiting for 15 minutes at passport control!
As soon as I had let out my new house to some poor unemployed English family, I returned to the IOW and prepared to go fishing.
Carefully taking one of the stones, I threaded it through the hole and tied it around my neck.
I swear that in the next week the following things really happened to me!!!!
1. I went bait digging and got a big can of rag worms. If I had gone five hours earlier the tide would have been in and I would have drowned.
2. I heard that a friend of mine who emigrated to South America twenty seven years ago, had capsized his boat and been eaten by Piranha. If I had emigrated with him I could have been in that boat and eaten alive as well.
3. I went fishing on Totland beach. There was a terrible thunderstorm so I sat in the car all night on the promenade, despite the severity of the storm, I was not hit by lightning once, but the 700 foot TV aerial at Rowridge, just EIGHT miles away was hit NINE times!!
4. I read that this year alone 4 people have been killed by great Wight Shark in less than 3 foot of water, but I went for a paddle at Compton Beach and was not attacked!
5. On going to ‘Scotty’s’ fishing emporium at Newport , my wife saw an old friend of hers, and without looking ran across the road to see her. If she had done this five minutes earlier, just 200 yards away, opposite the bus station she would have been run over by the no 53 bus!
6. I took my grandson fishing and he stayed over the night with us. When he woke up in the morning there WAS NOTHING WRONG WITH HIM. If he had been taken ill at 2am I would have had to drive him to the hospital that is 12 miles away!
7. I went fishing with Nipper off the ‘War Knight’ to try and catch ‘Henry’, the giant conger that lives there. Luckily we caught nothing , but if we had got him , he could have capsized the boat and we would have drowned, or worse still be rescued by Freshwater Lifeboat ,(said to be the only ‘lifeboat’ in the country where not one of the crew actually own a boat!)
8. I went to the local pet shop and bought a small Koi Carp for my pond outside. If I had bought the pit bull that was for sale ,it could have turned on me and I would have been badly mauled!
9. Last year I went fishing and lost my reel out of my bag on the way home. Exactly one year to the day later, I went to a car boot sale and bought a better one for £80!
10. Finally, I read the local paper from cover to cover, and there was no announcement that Keith Arthur intends to visit the IOW in the near future!!
Now you cannot tell me that is coincidence? The stones as you must agree by now really work.
However I am not a selfish man so I am willing to sell the remaining 5 at £2,000 each
Please make cheques out to TOF.
Then you will be as lucky as I am.!!!!
I had gone for my monthly check up and after arriving at the surgery, found that the waiting time was down to only 17 hours as they were running early for once.
To pass the time I decided to read some of the periodicals that were laid on the table for my entertainment.
After reading the headlines it seemed quite apparent that the situation in Europe was becoming severe, and if we did not act quickly then Kaiser Bill could start some serious trouble in Johnny Frog Land.
I was about to carefully replace the crusted magazine back on the table, when a small article caught my eye.
It could have been easily missed as it was between an advertisement for’ Vick’s Menthol Suppositories’ and… The chance to win an all expensive paid trip on the maiden voyage of the new super liner that was being built, ‘The Titanic’.
All you had to do was collect 1,000 cigarette cards, win the competition and avoid terminal lung cancer before the voyage, and the trip of a lifetime would be yours.
However the article I had spotted, told the tale of a mystical the lost valley , high in the Himalayan Mountains.
Living in this valley, it was said was an ancient Fakir, who possessed six magical stones, each of which would bring the owner unlimited luck!
Immediately I decided that I must find the old Fakir and get the stones. With them I would win every fishing competition and catch every species of fish I went after. I would become the greatest fisherman the world had ever known.
And if they really worked I would be guaranteed to never meet Keith Arthur.
I knew the challenge would be great, but to me it would be worth it.
It was bad enough listening to ‘Fisherman’s Blues’ , without the chance of meeting him at an airport.
I returned home and immediately packed my Swiss Army Jock Strap for my trip to India.
Secrecy was all important ; so posing as a cricket correspondent for the ‘Isle of Wight Morris Dancers and Ferret Buggers Weekly,’ I managed to obtain a cheap ticket with one of the fleet of lories returning empty, to the Far East; having delivered their cargo of illegal immigrants to Birmingham.
A week later I arrived in India and headed north towards the Himalayan Mountains.
The trek was arduous and toilet facilities non-existent,(not good when your staple diet is curry), but persevering I finally arrived at a village called ‘Flatulence’ where I got my first piece of good fortune.
The local tribal elder had heard of the ‘lost valley’ and even told me the name of it. It was called Jur Dan, which was Hindu for ‘Lost Valley’.
Many had searched for it I was told, but none had set eyes upon it, except for a one eyed Scotsman and riding blind Yak.
Could this be the man who had returned with the story of the fabled stones? Spurred on by the knowledge that if a Scotsman could do it ,I could. I made my plans.
I decided to copy the Jock and purchased a blind Yak, from ‘Honest Hafiz’s, Used Yak and Donkey Exchange.’ (‘One lady owner and only 150 miles on the clock, honest, Sahib.’)
Progress towards the distant peaks was slow as the bugger kept walking into walls, but after a month we had travelled the two miles to the next village, where upon I traded $50 for further information from the owner of a local ale house, where they sold a fine local brew made from distilled Yeti crap. Well that is what it tasted like!
Shaking his head sadly and warning me against going further, he reluctantly pointed me in the right direction.
‘You must follow the mountain trail until you reach the ‘Amal Passage’ at the bottom of the two mountains known as ‘Buttock Peaks’, from there you will follow the path and find what you desire, but it is a path followed by no sane man.’
Never the less I set out on my trusty Yak (who I had called Referee, as he was blind), and started to climb higher and higher into the unknown wilderness.
Frost bite and lack of soft toilet paper began to take their toll, but upward we climbed, high above the snow line.
A week later we ran out of food and two days later we had finished the last of the Kaolin and Morphine.
By now I had started to really hate the high mountains. I even deliberately woke up in the middle of the night ,just so I could hate them a bit longer
Reduced to a diet of Yak urine and frozen toes, I had reached the limit of my endurance and was about to give up; when I saw a rusty can of Mc Kewans laying in the snow.
I was on the right track!
Starving and thirsty we carried on, but I am no stranger to hardship.
I remember that dark winter of 47’ when things were so bad in our house, that I had to eat my own words to stay alive!
Suddenly there it was, ‘Buttock Peaks’, and the trail to the lost valley.
As we passed the rocks and carried on, I wondered if I was in fact, the first man to go up the Amal Passage into Jur Dan.
Seconds later my illusions were shattered when I saw ‘Pete was here’ scrawled on the canyon wall.
A day later we passed out of the passage, and there before us was the fabled lost valley.
To my surprise I was greeted by a naked man with a beard longer than a queue of creditors at a Portsmouth FC A G M .
‘You the one?’ he exclaimed in broken English. ‘You come for stones. You follow me now.’
Naturally I guessed that this was the Fakir, and followed him into an old cave.
Once inside the cave the old man passed me a small stone that had a hole through the middle.
‘You hold’ he said.
With that he produced a bow and arrow and fired the arrow out of the cave entrance.
‘See, see’ he shouted excitedly. ‘If I fired at you, you would be dead now! Lucky you holding stone’
My god, he was right. The stones really worked. I had to get them. Then I would be the greatest fisherman the world had ever known. I set out the things I had brought with me to barter for the stones.
Six copies of Angling Times, The Greatest Moments of Fisherman’s Blues, with Keith Arthur CD, (the full three minute version), and a packet of Ammo blast frozen sand ells.
The old man inspected them all then threw them in the fire.
‘What that crap? He asked. ‘You want stones you pay American Dollar or American Express. $1,000 each stone.’
Tight fisted Faiker!
Reluctantly I paid the old git and set off home with the stones.
The return journey was hardship beyond belief and without the stones I would never have made it.
Unfortunately my trusty stead was not so lucky.
Poor Referee, was ambushed and hacked to death, before being eaten by a band of deranged Leeds United Supporters who were uni-cycling naked across the Himalayan Mountains.
When I asked them why? They replied that ‘Anything was better than watching Leeds play at home.’
Back in India I changed my identity again, and posing as an illegal immigrant heading to England, I joined the convoy of lories headed towards Blighty.
Known as the DHSS Express the fleet of trucks took longer to return than it had on my outward journey. This explained the driver was because they had to go through Eastern Europe, France and Spain to pick up more passengers.
Finally we arrived back on English shores.
Straight away the stones began to work.
As an illegal immigrant I was immediately given a new house and £50K compensation as I had kept waiting for 15 minutes at passport control!
As soon as I had let out my new house to some poor unemployed English family, I returned to the IOW and prepared to go fishing.
Carefully taking one of the stones, I threaded it through the hole and tied it around my neck.
I swear that in the next week the following things really happened to me!!!!
1. I went bait digging and got a big can of rag worms. If I had gone five hours earlier the tide would have been in and I would have drowned.
2. I heard that a friend of mine who emigrated to South America twenty seven years ago, had capsized his boat and been eaten by Piranha. If I had emigrated with him I could have been in that boat and eaten alive as well.
3. I went fishing on Totland beach. There was a terrible thunderstorm so I sat in the car all night on the promenade, despite the severity of the storm, I was not hit by lightning once, but the 700 foot TV aerial at Rowridge, just EIGHT miles away was hit NINE times!!
4. I read that this year alone 4 people have been killed by great Wight Shark in less than 3 foot of water, but I went for a paddle at Compton Beach and was not attacked!
5. On going to ‘Scotty’s’ fishing emporium at Newport , my wife saw an old friend of hers, and without looking ran across the road to see her. If she had done this five minutes earlier, just 200 yards away, opposite the bus station she would have been run over by the no 53 bus!
6. I took my grandson fishing and he stayed over the night with us. When he woke up in the morning there WAS NOTHING WRONG WITH HIM. If he had been taken ill at 2am I would have had to drive him to the hospital that is 12 miles away!
7. I went fishing with Nipper off the ‘War Knight’ to try and catch ‘Henry’, the giant conger that lives there. Luckily we caught nothing , but if we had got him , he could have capsized the boat and we would have drowned, or worse still be rescued by Freshwater Lifeboat ,(said to be the only ‘lifeboat’ in the country where not one of the crew actually own a boat!)
8. I went to the local pet shop and bought a small Koi Carp for my pond outside. If I had bought the pit bull that was for sale ,it could have turned on me and I would have been badly mauled!
9. Last year I went fishing and lost my reel out of my bag on the way home. Exactly one year to the day later, I went to a car boot sale and bought a better one for £80!
10. Finally, I read the local paper from cover to cover, and there was no announcement that Keith Arthur intends to visit the IOW in the near future!!
Now you cannot tell me that is coincidence? The stones as you must agree by now really work.
However I am not a selfish man so I am willing to sell the remaining 5 at £2,000 each
Please make cheques out to TOF.
Then you will be as lucky as I am.!!!!
very very good.... did you used to be a reporter for the Sunday People........LOL but you have far too much time on yer hands TOF!
, keep the tales coming, tell us about the one that got away! regards Trig 
