Cod Almighty | Match Stats

Saturday 5 October 2019

Division 4

Grimsby Town 0

Mansfield Town 1 Pearce (90+6)

Attendance: 5087 (681 away fans)

Businessmen they drink the wine but none were level in their minds. You can take a joke too far, you know.

He held the team together like a good rug.

Mithering Mike muttered about the nutter nominally in charge:

"From our side, I thought the referee was absolutely appalling."

And then decided to dive down the rabbit hole with some utter nonsense verse about the blank:

"I thought our performance was good overall. I thought we were the better team for most of the game, certainly in the first half."

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Relieved at remaining employed, the current manager of Mansfield had the grace to avoid over-claiming:

"Although we didn't play brilliantly today I thought we deserved the win because of previous things that have happened to us."

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The egregious berkery from the raspberry fools was a welcome corporate distraction from the egregious toshery from Town.

What an utterly wretched waffle of a non-performance individually and collectively. The evidence for the home prosecution is hiding in plain sight – Town's big-man big-balling approach has been rumbled.

Robson believed his own hype and reverted to the young pretender swashbuckling in his own bubble of gilded youth; Ogbu was only adequate after he'd fallen over; Hanson trudged in ever-decreasing circles; Cook was a soufflé of soundbites, ephemerally flirting on the fringes of life. Green kept his old mate in a job through the sheer persistence of his mime.

Town created nothing.

The most insipidly dreary parcel of Stags seen for many a year, they relied on the kindness of strangers for the avoidance of angst.

Even before the sending-off they were just a bunch of time-wasting whiners and divers, intent only on disrupting Town's lack of rhythm with brazen insurance scamming all along the dock-tower. Logan's sneaky, snidey antagonising antics had even the most soft and gentle of ancient Pontoonites frothing and raging at this agent provocateur.

They don't care, they won, so who's whining now?

Like everyone else in this division, they're mid-table mumblers and bumblers.

Seething, we're seething, John.

Mr P Marsden (Lancs)

Dear Paul, if you love football, for the good of the game, please resign from the referees' list. Now.

And take your linesmen with you.

Where do we start? When do we end? This inadequate imbecile had no understanding of physics, football or humanity. He had no control over the game whatsoever, resulting in the nadir of numptiness when Mansfield took seven years to make a stuttering substitution. He, quite literally, shrugged his shoulders, turned to the nearest yellowman and asked them what was going on and what to do. And then there was the double drop-ball disaster, the bizarre bookings policy and… and… and… everything, everywhere, all the time.

He even managed to be magnificently appalling against Mansfield too. He ruined a rotten game and was a slither away from inciting a riot.

Don't come around here no more. This man is dangerous: 0.001

A flash in the pan and Town scammed by an out-of-town gang.

In a word: egregious