The mind of Mr Gomersall is certainly unique.
His crazy artistic talents famously adorn all three of Tel’s books. The two of them aligned way back in the Yateley days, and Glynn’s scribbles became legendary through the pages of “In Pursuit of the Largest”, followed by “Still Searching” and, last but not least, “Through the Mist”. There’s no mistaking Glynn’s cheeky, edgy style, with his trademark being some kind of rodent or pest finding its way into the scene. It was only when I first met him that I understood the background to this very point.
I was heading back down south from a trip up north. I had my two sons in the car with me, neither anglers, but they do love a character. So I filled the boys in about Glynn and explained we were dropping in for a brew and to show him what we’d created from the seven original and exclusive pieces he’d put together for SwanShot.
The drawings hit my desk late 2025, and after all the backwards and forwards, making sure we’d done Glynn’s work proud, it was time to show the man himself what we’d come up with. So down to the Three Rivers rolling bait room it was. Glynn’s been rolling bait for years, working out of a long, narrow corridor of a bait room. Racked from floor to ceiling were sacks of powdered ingredients, black bins, multicoloured dyes staining every surface, rolling tables, and enough pungent spices and flavourings clinging to your nose hairs like shit to a blanket to knock an Indian spice dealer on his arse.
Old 35mm photos were stapled to the walls. Past glory days. Carp that meant something.
Copse Lake original scale and 40 years old
Glynn’s a big fella with a smile to match, and after a few handshakes we got settled in.
No tea bags.
Coffee. Take it or leave it.
Then the stories started…..and could he tell ’em.
First came a trip down memory lane to when he worked on a pig farm, collecting massive slop bins from primary schools to feed the squealing porkers. It was already making my boys gag. Glynn was convinced pigs were evil, and unless you’ve had to climb into a pen containing hundreds of the pink bastards, you’re probably not in a position to argue with him. The story goes that they’d attack the ankles. Sink those gnashers into your Achilles heel and it could bring a grown man to tears… or fight mode. According to Glynn, twatting the lead instigator over the head with a shovel was the only way to set a precedent. The rest would back off long enough for you to fill the swill buckets and get the hell out of the pen before they swarmed you. He reckons they’d take chunks of flesh out of each other fighting over the food.
“Evil bastards they are!”
Next came rats as big as cats in the bait room. That acrid smell of rat piss you couldn’t mistake for any bait flavour, and one big female had shacked up in the roof space, soaking the plasterboard in urine where she’d made her nest…….it was time to make a phone call.
Glynn and his mate, armed with a bankstick, started prodding the damp patch. The plasterboard began to collapse and out dropped a few rat pups, which were quickly put to sleep. More prodding and poking. By now they knew a full ceiling repair was on the cards anyway. Then, all of a sudden, the biggest female rat flopped out of the hole, hanging on by her front paws while the boys were smashing the shit out of the roof trying to get her. She hit the deck, clearly pregnant, teats like thimbles sticking up as she lay on her back……then she moved, straight up matey boy’s leg, over his shoulders and behind the sacks in the corner.
At this stage my boys were hyperventilating.
The sack pile was dismantled in pursuit of “Big Momma”. She ran up the wall and Glynn stuck her with the bankstick, trying with all his might to push it straight through her. But if you’ve ever tackled a rat, you’ll know how bloody tough they are. Squealing and baring teeth, Glynn built the story of this rat dragging itself towards him along the stainless bankstick like something out of a horror movie.
My boys were belly laughing. The stories were coming thick and fast and, to them, all way more entertaining than any carp story.
It was a great moment. And suddenly it all made perfect sense why the pests keep finding their way into Glynn’s artwork. He clearly has a love-hate relationship with the rodent world.
So, what’s the project all about?
We wanted to bring Glynn’s work to the wider angling world because it’s never been done before. The kudos is already there. That’s clear. Yet despite the acclaim his illustrations received through Terry’s books, Glynn himself has largely remained in the shadows. This is about showcasing his work while giving angling art collectors the chance to own a signed and numbered, seriously limited-edition piece for the man-cave wall.
Seven unique works have been put together on heavyweight 300gsm art paper, individually watermarked and stamped by us at SwanShot, then presented in the coolest of tubes.
Use it for your floats. A pen pot. Or just sit the thing on the collection shelf as a standalone piece…
They’re mega.
We aim to drop two prints per month in the run-up to the festive period, with the seventh and final print in the collection carrying a little twist.
The first two drop:
Thursday 24th September.
21:00 UK time.
This is a one-off run of the highest order.
Proper collectors’ shiz.