Cod Almighty | Match Stats

Saturday 24 August 2019

Division 4

Grimsby Town 5 Cook (20), Ogbu (51), Green (57), Waterfall (80), Hanson (86)

Port Vale 2 Whitehouse (13 og), Smith (62)

Attendance: 4290 (246 away fans)

We have a new default go to Spumanti spewer. The word on the corporate street is out, if in doubt give it to man who has clout.

It's becoming one of the great unspoken truths of Grimsby Town. You don't need to guess that The Hess is the best, cleaning up everyone else's mess. Without him we're much less of a thing.

The word of the day is pleased. Michael was pleased. We're pleased you're pleased.

"The game was in the balance for a long time, so to come out of it with three points and five goals, we are really pleased about that."

More on this

His word of the day is "disappointed".

When they asked Askey what's what he cut to the chase, being that some didn't really bother chasing:

"But one or two, you can't just turn it on when you want."

You can't always get what you want, John.

More on this

Jolley's copycat Cowleyball simply ground down Poor Vale after half time with just a teeny-weeny soupcon of oomph added to the gloop and gruel.

When you've got a problem with people speeding down your street what you gonna do? That's right, put in some speed bumps. Town's midfield is the prototype for that traffic calming in Brereton Avenue. It's functionally adequate, designed for a single purpose - to reduce harm to the locals. They do run around and get in the way with Chief Inspector Hess the top cop in our sleeping policemen.

Defensive diffidence largely disappeared with the appearance of Pollock, a cheaper and more versatile version of Davis and Öhman, the Haddock and Cod of Town's central defence.

But why chivvy and chafe when we're top goal kings of the division. Ogbu blossomed before our very eyes, Green was a pest and Big Jim is our mobile Insect-o-cutor, bedazzling and frazzling flies at will.

We're so uppermiddletableofthefourth.com.

These losers, boozers and Jacuzzi users were a right bunch of whiny divers, with squealy Worrall the pick of the floppers.

Occasional moments of flittering and frittering hinted at capabilities, but they imploded when grown men snarled at them as they passed by. Their goal threat disappeared when Whitehouse was removed, for he wasn't there to calamitously pan-handle at free kicks.

They look to be slightly better at football than last year, but remain psychologically fragile. They just didn't like it up 'em.

From bemoaning to beholding the power of our engine, feeling the thrill of desire for goals.

Mr W Finnie

Finicky Finnie was foolish and friendless throughout, starting even before the start with his triple delay to the kick off. Whoever hit the turf first won a free kick, whoever squealed loudest got a free kick. He nearly ruined what was a bad game, until Town's goal-crazy rampage changed our view of history.

The latest in a long line of silly young men with whistles, we thought we'd left them behind in the Bananarama: 4.337, what a silly Willy.

A second half surge after a first half dirge.

In a word: oomph