To re-cap, there were three pairs of anglers fishing for what was hailed as sports smallest trophy - the Golden Maggot. Points were awarded for the number of different species you caught in a more or less sleepless 72 hours. And, to add to the fun, dirty tricks were allowed.

I was partnered with Gareth Edwards, the great rugby player, and we took our share of them. Our camper van was invaded by maggots. Pike fishing I was - well nearly - assaulted by a mad Lapp who claimed I was desecrating his tribal burial ground. He turned out be to be an actor hired by Kevin Linnane and Terry Eustace to slow us up. Meantime Gareth and I had screwed up Jim Gibbinson and the late (and still greatly missed) Ian Gillespie by getting it put out on Stockholm radio that two famous English anglers had arrived in town and wanted to give free fishing lessons to all the kids. It added the location where the pair intended to fish

What Gareth and I planned now, however, was revenge on Kevin and Terry, and this is what we did. We knew that the pair were coarse fishing on a big river in Southern Sweden of which I have forgotten the name. So we, in turn, hired an actress, a stunning blonde who, topless, paddled slowly up and down the river in front of our rivals, causing - as wed planned of course - a total collapse of their concentration .

Okay, it's taken me a little time to get to the point but there you have it. Fishing (very soft, admittedly) porn.

It's another sort of fishing pornography, though, that I have in mind now. The last decade has seen (maybe it has a lot to do with the decline of our own fishing, especially in saltwater) a mighty increase in angling tourism, which in turn has given rise to a lot of angling travel writing based, it has to be said, on freebies (flights, hotels whatever) supplied by the tourist industry. Now in a way that's understandable, so long as the writer is honest about what he's experienced. Often though, he/she isn't. And that brings me back to true angling porn (not the Kevin and Terry kind) in which the aim is to make a trip sound so exciting that the reader - the punter - gets all worked up, can't rest, until he's out there in the sun as well, catching all those mighty fish, just as the writer did.

Now, don't lets go overboard about this. If distant water writing wasn't subsidised by tourist boards, airlines, travel firms etc, then there would be very little of it - in fishing magazines, that's for sure. And if the writer is halfway honest - and there's a clear indication at the foot of his piece as to who paid the bills - that's acceptable. If it's angling pornography, though - the writer singing for his supper and painting a picture of the sport he's had which is, well, exaggerated, - then it ain't. Sadly though, there's a lot of it about. And when it comes to fishing writers also getting paid by tour operators, then this is getting close to fraud.

It's not difficult to spot actually. It's what, when I worked for Sports Illustrated in the US , we used to know as the 100 lbs-of-living-silver-clawed-its-way-skyward syndrome. Translated it reads, "The tarpon jumped". Wouldn't be fishing pornography then, though, would it?

I'll never forget the time when it was brought home to me what a responsibility angling writers carry when they head to faraway places. In this case it was Kodiak Island in Alaska where I'd gone (Pacific) salmon fishing. At the posh, fly-in lodge, the anglers were clearly well-heeled, except for one who turned out to be a telephone linesman from California who'd just retired and was spending his retirement lump sum on this trip, one he'd dreamed of for years. As it turned out he was far from disappointed. The fishing was terrific (and, incidentally, he turned out to be one of the best flyfishermen I'd ever watched in action.) But, I thought, what if he'd headed to one of those much-boosted venues where the action didn't match up to the promises? Ever since then, when I've written angling travel pieces, that guy has been, in my mind, the one that I'm writing for

I was lucky, of course, because SI was a very rich magazine with a policy of paying for every trip and never taking freebies, so that I was never under any kind of pressure to boost a location that didn't deserve to be. Which meant that plenty of times I'd come back with a story that was, let's say, negative. Oddly too, stories of this kind often turned out to be a lot more entertaining than the ones in which everything went right. I recall going to Kenya to do a marlin fishing story which turned out to be a little limp because on my very first day I caught three of the rascals. It all sounded too easy. Fishing pornography, right?

The good stories tended to be like the one, back in 1987, when I was one of a group made up of the first Westerners ever allowed in to fish the Kola Peninsula in Arctic Russia which ended up with the Soviet minister of Sport bursting into tears. Or the time I went up to British Columbia to do a steelhead story and never got further than Seattle because of getting food poisoning

I still think my best disaster story of all happened on Mongolia.

Next month, right?