Jérôme goes to the cupboard and pulls out three fishing rods, and a plastic container.
Come with me, says Jérôme.
He leads them into the street and along the footpath to a small bridge over a river.
Down here, says Jérôme. On the grass, next to these flowering bushes.
He gives one rod to Vello, one to David and one to Terence.
He opens the plastic container and shows them the lures.
Once the lures are attached, they come to their senses.
What the devil are we doing this for? asks Vello.
Everyone is doing it, says Jérôme. Street fishing. We hold competitions.
Fishing competitions! says David. Did you hear that Terence? It's a competition.
Yes, says Terence, staring hard at his lure. It is shaped like a skeleton.
THIS isn't a competition, says Jérôme. This is a leisure activity.
Are there fish in this river? asks Vello.
Oh yes, says Jérôme. Plenty of chub. Now remember the rules, boys.
Rules! says David. What rules?
Rule number one, says Jérôme, CPR.
Meaning? says Vello.
Catch, photograph, release, says Jérôme. Rule number two, handle with care, rule number three, no fishing at lunch time, rule four, no walking on boats.
Ridiculous, says Vello. There are no boats . And what's this about lunch time?
Rules three and four are for the more serious competitions, says Jérôme. Just ignore them.
Until lunch time, says David. Then I am quite prepared to stop fishing.
Me too, says Vello. what time is it?
Quarter to twelve, says Jerome. I must say I thought you two would be keener.
Terence is keen, says David. Look at him fishing.
Terence is fishing quite hard. He is concentrating all his effort on staring at the spot in the water where the fishing line goes under.
( Which is fishing quite hard ).
Swloop! Terence has a bite! It's a chub, a thick bodied European river fish with a grey-green back and white underparts.
He reels in his catch.
Oo! a fine wee chub on the end of his skeleton.
Look! cries Terence. A fish! I caught one!
Jérôme flies over and grabs the chub which is struggling and flipping.
He unhooks it. There we go, gently little fellow.
The chub appears to be smiling, orange mouth open. Waiting for something.
Anyone got a camera? asks Jérôme. Hold it up, Terence.
David snaps the smiling chub in the proud hand of Terence.
Take another one, says Terence, becoming excited and squeezing his catch in the middle.
Plurp! the chub's insides spurt out through its gullet, and its tail becomes flaccid.
It is instantly dead.
Release! says Jérôme.
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