Issue 4 Letters from the Archives of the London Diver Magazine

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18 April 2024

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ISSUE 4 ARCHIVE - LETTERS
I am a Dive Virgin I have never Done It Got wet down below Put my mouth round a hard hose Gave a snorkel a blow I have never gone down Never had a good suck I know what I'm missing And I don't give a fig Those funny frog-people In rubbery suits With big flappy fin-feet And stinky wet boots Seem to spend so much time Downloading their logs Computing their data (then eating like hogs) And tossing their gas-tanks And testing their regs They're meant to stay sober But they drink to the dregs And as well we all know To stay fit and alive You must always remember Do NOT drink and dive Size isn't important Or so I've been told But they measure their width In mills for the cold
They get in their wetsuits And think they look slinky But I'm quite suspicious I think they're all kinky Pierced ears seem important Perhaps it's the weight And tattoos on the skin So they don't look like bait And they get all excited When they've seen an eel Watched a wiggly worm field Had a fish fingery feel The only fish I like Are those on my plate Served covered in garlic Coz that's their best fate These divers they told me They'd just fed a ray A manta, a stinger As for me – no way I don't want to feed one Might bite off my hand But if I did feed one It would be on dry land Off out in a boat And then jump in the sea That might suit some strange folk It'll never suit me They take a giant stride Then they're off down below Into the water Where noone should go
It just isn't natural This hobby of theirs Why can't they stay up here And breathe uncanned air Their gear is quite heavy And not very cheap And they really don't need it Just don't go so deep You can stay on the surface And swim if you wish You can look at a picture If you want to see fish It's dangerous down there You might get the bends Your buddy can't help you And nor can your friends We're not meant to go there It makes me quite narked There are fish that can kill us Like giant squid and sharks Eat fish as your brain food Not t'other way round Don't let them eat your brain Stay put on the ground I just don't want to do it Too many exams I'll sit here on the shore Eating mussels and clams BUT...
After a whole week of dive talk You'll catch it And before you know it You've booked up for Datchet Don't phone me tomorrow I'm off for a drift And a hover, no bovver Just give me a lift To carry my dive bag I'd like a good caddy But that's one invention You don't get with PADI Don't phone me the next day I'm doing my nav You topsiders don't know What fun I will have I'm under the water It's awesome you know The reincarnation Of Jackie Cousteau I've seen big fish and small fish And medium too Looked into a cave And there's lots more to do I've done open water and I want to learn faster By the end of next week I will be a dive master I was a dive virgin Now I'm a dive tart I've weed in my wetsuit for warmth for a start
I was a dive virgin But now I feel shagged It wasn't the dive It was humping the bag! © Jackie Barrie Written before she learnt to dive in Tenerife. Jackie is now an MSD
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