FINLESS
FREDDY &
BILLY BSAC
PETE HARRISON
Christmas is coming and I, like many parents who happen to scuba dive, will be pouncing on the chance to warp my child's mind with scuba-related presents, and push them towards my own chosen sport.
I am, however, retaining a degree of responsibility by dispelling some of the ludicrous myths that lie behind these scuba-toys. Take Harry the Hammerheadª for example, or his friend Maisy the Makoª: all happy smiles, not a care in the world. But it's not real life, is it?
I've seen a few hundred sharks in my time, swimming around enjoying the use of their fins, but then I've seen an equal number lying dismembered on the beach, roasting under a tropical sun. So, true to his pledge for realism, Daddy will be reaching for his carving knife this year and making a few cynical adjustments. I'm sure my little angel will be no less delighted with his bath-time companion Finless Freddy.
Then there's the Play People Dive Clubª - wishful thinking or what? Three divers sit comfortably in their padded seats, while their cox'n spirits them efficiently to the site in a highly polished inflatable.
No, I'll be buying an extra packet of divers, and squeezing them up along every inch of a half-deflated tube. We'll have a mixture of sea-water and two-stroke slopping around the floor, and the storage space under the seat will be crammed with tiny Mars Bar wrappers, out-of-date flares and broken fin-straps.
If the Play-diversª eventually make it to the water, I'll ensure that they get dropped at the wrong end of the bath, with a riptide sucking them straight towards the plughole. Should they be lucky enough to surface, the cox'n will be looking the other way, nattering on the VHF.
Of course, sticklers for realism might be unhappy with the clarity of the bathwater. The toilet is one option, but because they'll presumably be sharing the bath with a small child - and children being what they are - Play-diversª would sooner or later get visibility reminiscent of the Channel.
You can get carried away making these sorts of adjustments, especially when you start trying to cater for bigger kids at Christmas. Last December's Diver detailed a set of grinning novelty condoms (under the dubious heading Raising a Smile). Doubtless most men would have plumped straight for Shark Sheathª, complete with devilish grin, or perhaps the Crocodile Sheathª.
It says a lot for the manufacturer's insight into the male psyche that it didn't try marketing a Shrimp Sheathª or a Minnow Sheathª.
But it was the Diver Sheathª that grabbed my attention. Sure, there was detail - a mask, reg and snorkel no less - but does that really reflect your average British wrecker?
No, by the time I had finished redesigning it, Diver Sheathª was decked out with twin head-torches (vital in the circumstances); a couple of pony tanks slung round his waist, and was jangling with all manner of reels, lifting bags, spanners and crowbars.
Realistic no doubt, but a sight that would bring tears to even the kinkiest of women.
It was back to the drawing board for this Christmas. Angular bits of kit were out, soft curves were in. And what we wanted was social realism. Digging deep in my reserve of old diving clichés, I brought out Mr Billy Bsac - 5ft 9, 18 stone, beer-belly and tattooed to boot. It was the perfect novelty condom.
What's more, the girth would have to be increased considerably to reflect that beer-belly. Many male divers - myself included - would appreciate that. Yeah, and reindeer might fly.
Appeared in DIVER - December 1999
