Q & A with Mullet Man

Q: DEAR MULLET MAN,

NEED YOU TO SETTLE A BET. DO THOSE MASSIVE BARRAMUNDI STOCKED IN THE DAMS FIGHT BETTER THAN NORTHERN TERRITORY BARRAS? I RECKON THEY DO, BECAUSE FOR THEIR LENGTH THEY ARE A STACK BIGGER. WHAT DO YOU RECKON MULLET MAN?

BARRA BANDIT, BRISBANE.

A: Dear Barra Bandit,

This question is a part of a national debate in every pub in the north of Australia. Blokes that fish in dams reckon their fish fight better. Territorians reckon their wild fish would pull a dam fish backwards. What I reckon we need is a serious referendum to resolve this important issue once and for all. Now I’ve caught lots of barra in wild rivers and dams, and regardless, all barras fight like bastards.

Dam barras never have to look over their shoulders once they reach a reasonable size, as there are no crocs or sharks, but they don’t get to have a shag. You’d think this might make them fat and lazy. In reality they are a very toey, frustrated population of fish. All of the big ones are female, and having over 100,000 virgin fat frustrated females living in the one pond with no males creates some scary ugly bitch fights in these barras that can translate onto the line as the fight from hell.

There’s a significant body of scientific literature that says fat females should all be removed when you catch them as they pose a risk to the rest of the population. I’ve spoken to a lot of blokes about this idea and most of them are in agreement. I think the fish are aware of the general attitude towards cannibals that society has, so they are pretty keen to get away so they don’t have to face the music! Dam barras put on a huge stink in the initial minutes of the fight but it often doesn’t last as long as the fight with a wild fish. Pond fish grow up soft.

Wild barras are a bit like Jeff Fenech, the Marrickville Mauler. They are raised on tough tracks, have to swim around paranoid 24/7 worrying about crocs and sharks trying to kill them and when hooked fight like crazy. They are lean mean fighting machines. So as far as your bet goes, I reckon the wild fish get the gong, so hand over the money (I think your mate rang me earlier and we’ve come to an agreement.) But like Jeff Fenech would say, as far as barras go, “I loves ‘em all’.

Q: DEAR MULLET MAN,

MY 7-YEAR-OLD WENT FISHING THE OTHER DAY WITH THE FAMILY NEXT DOOR AND CAME HOME WITH A BUNCH OF FISH AND ASKED ME TO CLEAN THEM. I DIDN’T HAVE A CLUE WHAT TO DO AND FRANKLY IT WAS TOO SLIMY AND MESSY FOR ME. CAN YOU GIVE ME SOME ADVICE PLEASE?

CLINTON. SYDNEY.

A: Dear Clinton,

Thankyou for your letter requesting advice. Do you require "‘whole of life" advice or just how to clean fish? I reckon there’s a big problem here Clinton, and that is you are quite clearly a lily livered limp wristed soft wimp with no ability to raise a son properly. Why the fuck weren’t you taking your own kid fishing? It’s pricks like you that are making this country go backwards. If you were in the bush you’d starve in two days. You are probably the type that goes into a bush servo in a remote town and orders a machiatto. The BCF chain of stores made a series of television ads about people like you. You aint livin’, Clint.

Now, quite simply, to clean a fish, grab a good knife, shove it in the fish’s date and cut it forward up to the throat. Rip the guts out with your manicured soft little hands. Now scale the fish, rubbing up the sides with a spoon, bread knife or scaler. Rinse the fucker and cook it in the pan. End of story Clint. At least you’ve got good neighbours. If I was your kid I’d be packing a bag and moving next door. Harden up you weak prick.