This is the tale of a two-day adventure with Darren the Glitter-man and “Golden Balls” Steve the Dolive Jones – a man who knows his Dolives – and is quietly lethal with them. Steve, who just gets on with it.

Part One: Glitter Man Assembles:

Darren arrived looking like a magpie had mugged a tackle shop. He was excited. And when Darren is excited, you pay attention.

Furthermore he’d brought his Nacre lure – that pearl-coloured beauty – along with new Glitter packs. His arsenal included:

· Pearl Nacre Asturies and Patchinkos

· A Glitter Patchinko 125 and a Komomo SF125 – both painted by the legendary Mark Sayer’s – Sayer’s Custom Painted Lure’s

 (priced at £6.50 each, plus £4 postage, in case you’re keeping receipts) He is on Messenger and Facebook. I must say don’t know Mark. I am posting here to inform the reader about the Glitter lures he sells which are currently very successful.

We affectionately named Darren, Glitter Man. He wore the title like a sequinned cape.

Part Two: Amber Skies and Empty Hooks:

We set out as the sun melted into an amber bruise. Stunning.

Steve positioned himself 10 metres to my right. Darren perched on a ledge 250 metres away, looking like a bass-hungry gargoyle. Conditions were kind – light breeze, biggish tide, and a full moon expected.

Perfect, in other words. Which meant, naturally, that nothing happened for ages.

Then the lights went out.

And everything changed.

Part Three: The Sound of Yippees

From the darkness, Steve began landing bass – 45 to 50 cm, clean and mean. His weapon of choice? A battered, scratched-up Vulture topwater, switching later to his beloved Dolives. No fuss. No glitter. Just business.

Meanwhile, from the ledge, I heard it.

Yippee. His headlights flashing green

Yippee.

YIPPEE.

Yahooooo

Darren was obviously having the time of his life.

And me? I was blanking.

Part Four: The Desperation Spiral

I threw everything I had at that moonlit water:

· The Hunthouse 155

· The Sasuke Cotton Candy 110 and 140

· The Baby Patch

· The Joker Flashing Plate Komomo2

All my big guns.

Nothing.

I even tried a Dolive – because when in Rome, or in this case, a rocky Welsh coastline. But, I soon became demoralised and lost patience.

Still nothing.

Let me paint you a picture: I’d been awake nearly 20 hours. I’d blanked that morning on the north coast of the Llyn. I’d clocked 26,000 steps – through rough terrain, kelp, and the kind of rocks that hate ankles.

My bottom lip began to tremble.

I was a spoilt six-year-old in waders.

Part Five: The Summit of the Ledge

Then Darren shouted me over. Excitedly. Because of course he did.

I trundled – there is no other word – through rocks, waist-high kelp, and water that had no business being that deep. I clambered up onto his ledge like a damp, defeated sea lion.

Darren was over the moon. Literally. The moon was full. So was his scorecard.

“Twenty bass. Up to 60cm. Six pounds, mate.”

I nodded. Silently. Internally weeping.

Then he handed me a lure.

“Try this Glitter Komomo, mate.”

Part Six: Science, Skepticism, and a Glitter Miracle

Being a man of method, I first gave my Mullet Vulture three scientific casts from Darren’s ledge.

Nothing. (The Vulture failed)

Then I tied on his Glitter Komomo SF125.

First cast: Bass. 45cm.

Second cast: Bass. 45cm.

I stood there, rod in hand, questioning every life choice I’d ever made about lure colour.

Was it the honey pot hole Darren had discovered?

Or was it the lure?

I’m not 100% sure.

But I’ve since ordered two Glitter lures in the 125 Patch and the SF125 Komomo for further research.

You know. For science.

Part Seven: The Quiet Man

While I was having my glitter-based spiritual awakening, Steve was quietly going about his business.

Ten bass.

Biggest: 60cm of perfect condition.

All on the Dolive, plus two more on his Vulture.

No yippees. No dramatics. Just fish.

Steve, is the angling equivalent of a ninja. You don’t see him. You just hear the occasional splash and the quiet zip of a reel.

Part Eight: My Final Tally

I ended the night with six bass. Three were decent:

53cm, 55cm, and 56cm.

Not Darren’s twenty. Not Steve’s quiet ten. But mine. And they came after the bottom – lip tremble, which somehow made them taste sweeter

We both catch at the same time my 55 looked much smaller than Steve’s 60 it was a stunning looking fish I thought it was much bigger initially

Not Darren’s twenty. Not Steve’s quiet ten.

Part Nine: The Sleep of the Dead

By the end, I was shattered. Properly, deeply, see-you-in-the-morning shattered.

I crawled into my cave tent, peeled off the salty layers, and found dry clothes and a new Barker sleeping pad waiting for me.

I slept like I’d been clubbed over the head with a Giant Komomo.

Even the sheep – those relentless, baa-baa-baa-ing Welsh sheep – couldn’t touch me. Landmines apart – they were everywhere.

Final Cast

So what did I learn?

That Black and Glitter might just work.

That Dolives are still magic.

That Darren is insufferably cheerful and funny when he’s winning.

That Steve is a bass-catching ghost. Black magic, a Wizard, a Sorcerer

And that sometimes, after 26,000 steps and twenty hours of humble pie, a single glittery lure can save your night.

Tight lines, and may your bottom lip never tremble.

(Unless the bass are big. Then trembling is allowed.)