“You bastard, you stole my fish!”
There’s a lot of shouting in the street this morning.
“Ian, you bastard, where’s my fish?”
I can clearly hear the commotion. They must be close.
“I want my fucking fish, Ian!”
I can’t see anyone.
“Fuck you, and fuck your fish!”
A man’s voice this time. Shrill. Squealing.
“GIVE. ME. THAT. FISH. NOW.”
The voices trail off into the distance.
“Iaaaaaaan! … You fat Twat!”
“Gerroff me!”
It’s gone quiet now.
I hope she gets her fish back.
I hope the fish is in one piece.
I don’t know Ian but if he’s the type to kidnap a fish the guy is capable of god knows what.
Best not to imagine…
I’m worried for the fish.
Should I call someone? The police, maybe?
And tell them what though? That I’ve just overheard an argument in the street leading me to believe a fish was in danger of immediate harm?
They’d only ask me what I’d seen.
Would you recognise the fish again, sir?
I’d have to admit that I’d not actually laid eyes on any fish.
How do you describe a fish anyway?
I can probably identify approximately two types of fish; 1: goldfish, and 2: those little transparent things that look like tiny glow sticks.
After that they all look the same to me.
I regret to admit such ignorance, and it does sound like I’m prejudiced against a whole section of the animal kingdom, but there it is.
It doesn’t make me fishphobic!
Maybe I should call the RSPCA? There’d be fewer awkward questions at least.
Do the RSPCA deal with fish though?
You generally associate the RSPCA with mammals, don’t you? Furry things. Big brown eyes. Cuddly. Animals that make you go AWWW.
Obviously birds have their own separate organisation, the RSPB. But fish? And come to think of it, insects too. Who’s looking out for the insects? Don’t insects have rights?
Who prevents cruelty to cockroaches?
And, surely if the RSPCA gave a shit about fish they’d be down the canal every Saturday with leaflets and a placard or two?
I’ve never seen them.
It’s tiddler genocide down the Leeds and Liverpool canal.
And what about the “Angling Times”? That’s still legal. Celebrating the slaughter of innocent shoals. There’s no Fox Hunters’ Express or Seal Cullers’ Mail, is there! Not nowadays.
I’ve never thought about it before but it must be hell being a fish.
Maybe, after all, the disputed fish wasn’t even a real fish. Hadn’t thought of that. But imagine how crackers it would be to abduct an actual fish? The logistics are pretty daunting to say the least.
Stuffed fish, knitted fish, balloon fish, poster of a fish (wasn’t there a pop star called Fish?) some kind of ceramic knick knack fish… tons of possibilities. There’s no evidence after all that Ian caused actual harm to any living creature, is there. I mean, is there?
Actually there’s no reason to believe Ian didn’t have an equal and deserving claim to whatever kind of fish he was asserting custody rights over.
What if the fish was some kind of object they’d jointly bought when the relationship was going swimmingly? Said fish was now just a pawn in the divorce proceedings. It does happen.
He might love that fish.
You just don’t know, do you.
I merely jumped to the conclusion that Ian bore malevolent intent towards the fish. That he’d filched the fish. But maybe the fish has some kind of sentimental value for him?
Couldn’t bear to be parted.
He did sound distressed when he was told to relinquish possession of the fish.
Anyhow, Ian is long gone.
The fish is headed towards Bramley, or possibly Kirkstall.
Hoping Kirkstall.
I can see Ian being ok in Bramley.
The fish, however, would have a better chance in Kirkstall.