Many moons ago,a mate and I used to night fish for tench on Dringhouses pond in York. I'm not sure we should have been, mind, but no one ever objected.
This particular night, said friend, who has a pathological aversion to rats, was fishing off one of the wooden platforms which projected about 15 feet out. When he grabbed for some sweetcorn to feed up, he picked up a very surprised and angry rodent, which had been having a casual munch under cover of darkness.
With a noise like escaping steam ,and forgetting completely in his abject terror that his legroom was very limited, he leapt backwards and disappeared into a bed of lilies.
I'd nodded off, but alerted by the sounds of attempted murder in the next peg went charging round to find the geezer missing and a series of diminishing ripples to the left of his platform.
Fearing the worst, I scanned with the head-torch and discovered a dome-like object, with a big lily pad for a hat, about 6 foot out. The lily pad slowly tipped back to reveal a head, submerged to the nostrils. Further tipping revealed the owner's mouth. Words followed - "Get me out nob 'ead, me feet are stuck".
I almost fell in laughing, it was about ten minutes before I recovered enough strength to pass him a long bankstick and pull him out, complete with a couple of stone of mud and lilies.
Precious