The Bottomless Pond of Cleethorpes.

At the end of the road called ‘Suggitt’s Lane’ in Cleethorpes, is a large pond. The rumour for many years stated it stood bottomless. Now regardless of which shape you think the earth is, This was quite obviously bollocks. Others speculated that it went incredibly deep still and fed into most major waterways and seas in and around the UK. One person claimed to have seen Nessie in it.

Known as Chapman’s Pond, the rumours continued year after year. Some claimed Grim’s original secret treasure remained hidden in an alcove. Others claim that a drunken bus driver once lost an entire double decker in it, the vehicle form, not the chocolate bar. One local man decided two things a few years ago. The first thing he decided; he was a scientist, despite having no qualifications whatsoever, not even a GSCE pass. The second thing was that he would permanently put an end to the myths for good. So, begins the tale of Tim Bikkelmurr.

Tim did rigorous preparation for almost three days beforehand. By preparation, this meant he rented a wetsuit and spent the rest of the time drinking in the Swashbuckle Tavern telling everyone that caught his eye he was a scientist and going to prove what no-one previously had been able to. As his day arrived, he expected a jubilant throng to witness his discovery, but grew disappointed to see not a soul. He waited a while.

He had changed into the rented wetsuit, which fit too snugly in some parts, specifically his under-rated beer belly, and hung too loose in others. To make it airtight, he had taped the wrists and ankles to his flesh. It was April, so still fairly cold; he wasn’t relishing the idea of jumping in just yet. To pass the time, until hopefully it warmed up, he slung debris into the pond–rocks, stones, mud, stray cats etc. Hours passed by and he realised that no one would show up, and it wouldn’t get any hotter, he decided to finally take the plunge.

After visiting the shops and eliciting a few funny looks for being in a wetsuit, he emerged with a bottle of whiskey in hand and took a few healthy belts from it. If the outside of his body was to be cold, he would warm it from within. He strode with determination to the broken piece of fencing that allowed him access to the pond.

Tim placed his snorkel into his mouth, he took a running jump into the pond. “Bastard!” he gasped as his head re-emerged, snorkel wrapped around the back of his head. He had forgotten to put his flippers on. He needed them, he guessed. Tim splashed towards the shore to put them on. Shivering, he also finished the whiskey to brave a second jump into the murky waters.

The second time, his running jump took a turn for the worse as he tripped over the flippers, tumbling in from the side. As he frantically doggy paddled to a shallower portion of the pond, he rearranged his goggles and snorkel, so they provided a use for him. He dove underwater.

Disappointed, he soon reached the bottom of the pond. He tried again and again from different spots, but there was a clear finite space below the pond’s surface. He looked for holes that possibly led to deeper parts. Tim found four shopping trolleys and a television, but no holes. He emerged and swam back to the bank to get out of the water and change. He couldn’t believe no-one had done this before. Tim made the decision to report his findings as soon as possible. Changing back into his clothes quickly, he almost jogged the entire way to the Swashbuckle Tavern.

Gregg, the barman rolled his eyes as Tim burst through the doors yelling, “I’ve done it! Guys! I solved the mystery of Chapman’s Pond!” There sat only three other patrons in the pub, alcoholics all; a common sight most days of the week. They barely registered his presence, as even to committed piss artists as themselves, Tim was a pain in the arse. Usually he spent his days propping up the bar and complaining about bus routes in the area.

Tim continued, oblivious to the lack of interest shown by his only friends. “For years, nobody knew if Chapman’s Pond had a bottom! Today, I can confirm it has! Pint of lager and double whiskey please.” Gregg dutifully poured the drinks and requested payment. Tim’s disappointment that his discovery didn’t warrant even one free drink was clear on his face. Gregg shrugged in response to Tim’s pleading eyes. “I don’t get one on the house for proving the unprovable?”

Under normal circumstances, Gregg would bite his tongue; as annoying as the customers were, they remained customers after all. Most importantly, ones that drank throughout the day, thus warranting the hours Gregg desperately needed to work. Something about Tim always bugged Gregg more than most, perhaps the way he seemed to believe he was ‘above’ everyone else, despite his loser nature. “You know that’s a kid’s story, right?” Tim looked at Gregg with menace as he continued, “I mean, there was a massive flagpole sticking out of it for ages too. Kind of proves that ‘science’ already knew it had a bottom”.

Tim pouted. He felt deflated, but Gregg had not finished, “So you swam to the bottom, did you?” Tim nodded and added, “With a wetsuit and snorkel”. Gregg smirked, “So you must be well enough to look for work again then?” The other patrons laughed at this exchange, to which Tim glowered and turned to take a seat close to the window.

As he gazed across the waters of the Humber, he squinted and saw either Hull or Spurn Point in the distance. “I reckon I could swim that” he thought to himself.