Hot on the heels of the presentation for the 2003 Boroko Motors Barra Comp come startling revelations that all who attended did not actually play with a square bat!!

Shock, horror, gasp… what can the story be?

Well let me see –

It was a bright and starry night fellow anglers, when the miscreants, moguls and energy transfer specialists readied themselves for the long and arduous 2 days of full bore fishing that is the Boroko Motors barra comp.

The ever enduring sponsors had all thrown their collective hats in the ring, yet again, the trophies were set. Short Fat from Sufferers Paradise was in town to fish with Albert, Billy T had his new boat, proper flash, Angus joined Gorilla Grip and HB under the fridge on-board Cockroach and long time supporter Keith K was pencilled in to fish the Sunday aboard BlackTracker. Things were starting to look like all was right in the piscatorial world.

How little did we know.

The quick escape Friday was the plan for a quiet night at Doa Estate with a few beers and an early night. What an error of judgement that proved to be. Out they came… the homeless, the humorous, the hungover, all for a bit of early work at the Reach. A captivating crowd to be surE.

Me and BC had parked the esky and taken a pew and in between having a quiet sip soaked up the atmosphere as the crowd passed by. Some sat and sipped along with us, some set a hectic pace, perhaps the precursor to a sudden fall from grace.

Dick-lick arrived with tart in tow, he appears to have quite a harem, his only interest dinner time and were we going to share them. At table height and keen of sight you cannot afford to trust them, you turn your back and all you end up with is teeth marks in your kai!

And Val had slaved long and hard to get poor Ron’s dinner on the table.

Well blow me down, the big fellas lobbed with quiet young Karl in tow - both looking a trifle ruffled from the trip. BJ parks the ute and boat right there, right in front for all to see, she’s a marvel of modern engineering with everything that opens and shuts!!

The boys were obviously honing their skills for a big start to the two days on the water. We only had to wait and see if either would survive the first night. We all know how jittery blokes can be on their first night - at the Reach.

Connie just watched in awe. So did Terry, Justine, Shane, Geoff, Mike, Rose, Justine and Jimmy and heaps of other people as well.

Saturday dawned overcast and cool – for some anyway – and all about we sped. Down the front was the call for the clean water, the Laloki featured for a cunning few, the Goroho was bound to get a canning.

It was in the end, the Abisi was where the most fun was to be had. Young Andrew boated a nice barra in beautiful water, Rob and Cath were lurking around at the top of the first stretch, there was a distinct air of concentration as the green depths were plumbed for barra.

The afternoon, for some, seems to have worn on a bit and boredom prevailed. A carry over from the previous evenings frivolity perhaps, who knows?

Rob and Cath fell victim to the first assault from those charming little fridge magnets, a waswas a la Mercury to destroy their revere. Oh how they laughed, their assault complete, as off they sped again perhaps to douche some others with their splendid little game.

We stealed ourselves, the MoaPis crew, we knew our deadly fate, the hoons were out, all reason gone, we may as well cop it sweet.

Interestingly, scientists reckon that cockroaches will be the only survivors in the event of a nuclear holocaust. Sadly, these same scientists made no effort to check the boat driving skills of cockroaches and that may be where this whole plan came sadly undone.

A flick of the wrist, I doubt it, more like a good hard tug. It was State of Origin all over. Gorilla Grip catapulted onto the field of play just like Blocker. He left an indent that took five minutes to refill. Angus was welded to his seat, you could see the whites of his eyes from 50 feet. And HB? The bucking beast subdued and senses gathered, hat and sunnies rescued and resuscitated, there he sat.

Oh dear dear me HB – a painful task complete – and me and my mates on MoaPis right in the front seat. The yarn you know, the list of injuries well recorded, the screwed up look on HB’s face adds flavour to the tale.

So what’s to say, a change of misnomer perhaps, Hospital Boy does have a certain ring to it, so to speak.

The attached pics, here abouts, give you a good look at Angus’s and Bill’s butt cracks just to round things off nicely. Thanks to Val for the expert hands in getting the boys sorted with their ‘sports injuries’.

Ladies and gentlemen this is only day one!!

In the midst of all this excitement Paddy, playing the strong silent type for the weekend, Andrew Smits and Terry all recorded fish and then, of course, Frank arrived. At 22.7kg the mark was set for Sunday, an excellent fish by any standard.

But first, Saturday night, had to be encountered. As spurious rumour would have it not all was rosy in the camp that evening. Speaking of Rose, she was probably the smartest of all, getting off to bed nice and early.

A torrid night beneath the stars with wanderings a plenty, or so the rumour goes. We drank and ate and lounged about, the beer it flowed like water. Water! Someone must have left the tap running! It all went off without a hitch, most of us towed the line. And silence from the miscreant meant he didn’t cop a fine.

To drive around the bush at night can be a terrible dangerous thing you must look out for drop bears or narapela kain sumting - even extra terrestrials.

So Sunday dawned, the hunt was on to top Frank’s fish. Mike and Jimmy scored, one in, one out, and that was the grand tally.

So Sunday night the lists complete and we all take our places, a glance around the room confirms we are missing a few faces. The tired and ill have stayed at home, so much for their social graces!

Frank is the champ, the Barra Comp is his, young Andrew Smits claims second and that’s right were the controversy erupted. The crowd called up ‘what about Jimmy’s fish?’ - there appeared to be a mix up, a quick recount, a re-adjust and Paddy nearly cried, Jimmy’s fish had stumped him and only by point 25.

The Boroko Motors Barra Comp, you have everything to gain, far better that you win it than gain instant NAFA fame.