"Eel regret admitting that," I hear some of you saying. But I sword I'd keep to my word.
This is not the start of a hake campaign against silly jokes. All of us, the hard of herring included, can have a whale of a time with them, and some are quite shark, bringing a ray of life into humdrum existences.
Yet it would truly be the fin end of the wedge to go too far down that road.
Arête, I hear French readers exclaim. Trust them to refuse to make no bones about it.
But saury, let's not carp. It's hardly cause for that familiar French cry: Aux barracudas. A one-legged man might want to get his skate on, rather than stoop to the kind of behaviour that would make even the strictest monk fish rather than meditate all day.
Mullet over. Weever or not we like it, the sole reason for punning on this scale is to demonstrate that whiting comes in many forms. And you don't need a snapper to prove it, whatever photographic sprats my trawl of Flickr may net. One man's poisson, I suppose....
You smelt a rat, I'm sure. You'd be a sucker to think any of this amounted to art; it's certainly not Porgy and Bass. Trout wishing to seem harsh, maybe Bill and Louise ought be given the perch for starting me off.
So we must sea if we can do betta. For many of you, I know, Salut! is the rock that keeps you from self-harm and the sturgeon's knife.
But there's no catch. As long as you can say you've never haddock so good, you can still find salmon to make you smile.
Praise be to cod.
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