Now that Christmas is over, and the New Year has arrived, many anglers head for the ski slopes (and sometimes the chance to bunk off and wet a line too).

Others pack heavy tackle and fly south to warmer latitudes… where sunstroke suddenly becomes a serious possibility, and mythical blue-water species apparently want to steal your line, break your rod and send you whimpering home to your bank manager to work out how to fund your next hit.

Just from that little paragraph of palest purple prose, you can probably tell that this is a genre that easily slips over into self-parody when it’s not very carefully filmed or written about.

So it’s in homage to all those overblown hook-and-bullet I-fought-a-Ferrari moments that fashion-plate designer son of the Wandle Steve Edge (for it is he) actually did put his life, sanity and professional reputation on the line – by deliberately stalking and hooking an Italian supercar in central London.

We’re still not convinced he really put that reel through its paces

… and we were hoping that the Stig would climb out of the bucket seat to smash Steve’s rod over his knee and complete the final frames’ Verfremmdungseffekt but even so …

that’s what we call urban fishing.

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