Chapter 5
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     Chris the former stiff stallion, suddenly broke out from the reeds and willows like a vengeful bull, rapidly belting up his jeans, his hair full of bracken, as he raged at us from the bank. Our rope painter hung forlornly from the bough just to his side. He pulled at it in frustration and watched us with seething looks.

“Pull mate before he decides to walk on water and grab us!!”

     I pulled more confidently but we then pulled up short again, not more than a few yards further on!

“Wot’s ‘olding us back now – ‘ell it’s the stern painter!”

“Why did you tie that as well?”

“’cause l didn’t want the dinghy to drift away loike it did last week – l wanted to make sure it wos tied up good an’ proper and not rely on one o’ your Boy Scout knots!”

“Bugger!”

     The long rope which Bob had tied to a post on the shore now trapped us! The “bull” saw it, as it emerged from the water where it had lain hidden and grabbed for it. In doing so, he let go his hastily hoisted jeans which fell once again to his ankles making him look even more awful.

     His Amazon now topped the rise and tumbled awkwardly down to the river bank.

“Look wot you made me do! Cow shit all up me an on my best top too! Yoo fuggin’ idiot!”

Faint whiffs of freshly disturbed cow manure wafted down to us as the “bull” caught hold of our stern rope and started to pull.

     Bob finally and frantically found his boat knife and started to saw at the rope painter but too little avail. I pulled hard on the oars, struggling to keep us away from the beast with his bare arse – l could see disaster awaiting us if we fell into his clutches!

“Come ‘ere yoo buggers an’ l’ll teach yoo to mess wiv’ me when l’m nobbin’ ma bird!”

     We were discovering, that there’s nothing worse that you can do, than to disturb a man amid his sexual ecstasy. There is nothing guaranteed to provoke torment and vengeance more!

     All of a sudden, under the strain from both ends, the rope painter gave way, whilst l was in mid stroke and we shot forward. My last sight, as l toppled backwards into the bilges yet again, was of Bob falling headlong over the transom and into the water and the “bull” tumbling backwards into the nettles near the river bank!

“Bastids, bastids, fuggin’ BASTIDS!! – l’ll get yoo, yoo fuggin’ bastids!” came from a raging red faced bull amid the chorus of “But you pushed me, into fuggin’ cow shit, you bloody cretin!”

     Fortunately, the words receded into the distance as l pulled hard for the centre of the river, Bob holding onto the stern and thoroughly soaked, but at least safe.

“W’ere clear, they wont get us now! Gee, you ok, mate?”

“I will be when l get back into the bluudy boat and out of this bluudy freezin’ river!”

      Attempting to fish Bob over the stern was useless, he was just too heavily soaked and with no foothold that he could get a purchase on, getting him out was impossible. So, the only solution was to row for the opposite bank and effect recovery there. I found a clear patch of bank and eventually Bob could walk up out of the water to lie sodden and exhausted on the grassy clearing whilst l tied the dinghy up to a fence post.

“Jeeso, wot was that all about mate?!”

“Sex l think! Now l’m goin’ to try and get dry!”...........................................

............................................. His attempt was to be made, or shall we say, his research program was to be initiated, by strapping an outboard motor onto the back of a fibreglass kayak! Dave, who later became known as Dangerous Dave, was an idiot who delighted everyone, including knowing old boating wags and inexperienced boat enthusiasts alike, by coming up with all sorts of schemes involving ‘new boat design ideas.’

     This was his latest, in a long line of experimental disasters, which had included two dinghies tied back to back so that the resultant boat could “sail either way” and a device which lowered a door at the front of a launch so that you could walk straight off the boat and onto the river bank. This device had apparently sunk the boat when it lowered itself prematurely and scooped up ‘half the bluudy Thames!’

     Mounting the outboard motor onto the back of this latest idea, involved chopping the pointy back end off the kayak, the type seen on boating ponds all over the country, the type that always smell of urine probably from occupants who had paid their two shillings and sixpence and pissed themselves when the kayak rocked uncontrollably as they wobbled away from the bank, until it finally ended upside down!

     Onto the new flat plywood transom that Dangerous Dave had fitted into place, a bracket was mounted, onto which was clamped the rather large outboard motor, looking far too big for such a small and narrow craft. A system of crude controls was led forward to the cockpit over the aft deck allowing the occupant, test pilot or death seeking helmsman, to steer the kayak and to control the engine throttle. Although super keen just to throw the kayak into the water and shoot off with little preparation, we persuaded Dave to test his steering devise first and were glad that we did!

     Tests on these controls in a static situation initially showed problems both of adequate control with the steering and of sturdiness. Two pieces of string attached to a bit of wood hastily clamped across the front of the outboard looked crude and rather ineffective to say the least and a six foot long broom handle roped to the twist grip of the throttle, looked decidedly dangerous! The fact that, in order to turn the outboard and steer the craft with the strings, the throttle control, or broom stick, would simply swing out four feet from the side of the kayak, requiring the jolly helmsman to lean well out of the cockpit, decided Dangerous Dave to make hasty modifications, before hitting the water.

     We left him scratching his head and hoping that his enthusiasm for this latest hair-brained experiment would dwindle. Bob and l could think of possible solutions to the control problems but decided to remain silent, not wanting to come up with anything that was later found to contribute to his early death!...................................

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DD, not a big man, slid carefully into the cockpit with his greasy old anorak zipped up, balaclava over his head and with motor bike goggles over his eyes. He looked every part the World War 1 fighter pilot ace!

     Efficient as ever and probably wanting to ‘milk’ the situation as much as possible, he had a check list which he handed me to go through.

“Push left foot down on steering peddle, engine should turn left” – it did!

“Push right foot down on steering peddle, engine should turn right” – it did!

“Twist throttle pipe, engine throttle turns – clockwise to slow, anti clockwise to speed up” – it worked!

“Engine out of gear”

“Roger!”

“Who? Oh right!”

“Engine fuel tap on.” I checked, it was. “Roger.”

“Engine locked in down position.”

“Yup, er l mean Roger!”

“Start engine! Ok, l’ll do that.” I pulled the cord and she sprung into life with a hearty roar whilst exuding clouds of oily smoke! No matter, that would almost certainly clear when she warmed up.

“Check steering controls again.”

“Roger.”

“Throttle up with throttle pipe.”

“Roger.” Further smoky clouds engulfed us!

“Throttle down with throttle pipe.”

“Roger.” The clouds did not stop!

“All checks done, you’re ready to go!”

     DD gave us his usual maniacal leering lopsided grin and pulled the string that put the engine into gear. The ‘hooman torpedo’ immediately kicked forward thrusting determinedly out into the Thames...............................

..................................... The check list was gone through again, with particular emphasise on testing the steering control. Some of the owners of the boats on the opposite bank had, wisely taken the precaution of hanging old mattresses over the exposed sides of their boats and a rather plump lady, who turned out be DD’s girlfriend turned up to give her man encouragement.

     She was a rather fearsome looking lady called ‘Cynth’ with a voice like a foghorn and the unsettling habit of bashing anyone close to her with plate like hands whenever she talked, seemingly to add emphasis to her bellowing words!

“Christ, no wonder DD’s doin’ this, ‘e needs a fast craft to get away from ‘is woman! You’d ‘ave to go a mile quickly before you got out of earshot o’ that one!”

     The final part of the check list was achieved by his girl who, wading thigh deep in the water, gave him a big kiss on his goggles making sure that they were smeared with bright red lipstick and patting him on the head which, with her big meaty hands drove him down further into the cockpit!

“Oh my love, take care and come back soon!”

     To get away, he engaged the gear and ‘Shark’ once again moved forward, cleaving through a fleet of passing ducks as she left the jetty.

“Oh dear, watch those poor little duckies Davey dear!”

But the ducks sped out of the way with a profusion of quacks...........................

.................................... Jippo saw the danger and quickly grabbed the oars to clear the area. Cynth’, in panic, wrapped her plate like hands around the nearest thing to her, my arms and squeezed in total fright.

“Jeesus Cynth’, for fuggin ell’s sake, let go before you wrench me arms orf!!” But Cynth only gripped tighter as she saw disaster head towards her lover, or to be more accurate, her lover head towards disaster!

“Oh but do something, DO something!!”

“Fuggin ‘ell CYNTH! Your’e killing me fer Christ’s sake!”

     I managed to extricate myself by kneeing her in the thigh and turned to see Jippo in complete panic, loose an oar over the side, spinning the dinghy as he did so! Jippo panicked some more and leant over frantically to retrieve the oar but to no avail. It remained just out of reach. Jippo panicked again, even more this time, as he turned to see the ‘red dildo’ head straight for him. He paddled frantically with one oar turning the rubber dinghy dizzily around in circles. He seemed to drift side ways slightly. Was he clear? No, because for some strange reason, the ‘Red Dildo’ turned slightly too, back towards Jippo!

“Oooh dear, oooh dear!” was all we could hear from Cynch’ as she clapped her great hands together waiting for the crunch.................................

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