Cod Almighty | Diary

Diary - Friday 20 February 2004

20 February 2004

Instead of handing over to Guest Diary, as is semi-usual on Fridays, I have decided to stick around today, because GD will be bringing you this column all next week (some of us have to work for a living, you see). Having said that, I wish I hadn't said that, because I woke up this morning with a killer hangover - after just three pints and a short. If the Diary continues ageing at the current rate, then my pre-match drinking in the Rutland will soon be restricted to the Old Mill mild instead of the bitter.

Why do we have to have hangovers, anyway? There are those who argue that they function as a necessary brake on overindulgence and that without them the world as we know it would descend into alcoholic chaos and become nothing more than a larger-scale version of Cleethorpes seafront on a Saturday night. But this is like those scientists who tell you that feeling pain is necessary to the survival of our species, because without it our ancient ancestors would have gone around jumping off mountains with gay abandon and blithely indulged sabre-toothed tigers to chew their legs off. This is so much bollocks, as the human brain is clearly advanced enough to understand the concept of harm and danger without necessarily having to experience the sensation of pain. I know full well, for instance, that if I allow Mrs Diary to carry out all that she threatens then I will never again be able to type this column, and so the price of a daily GTFC news summary is eternal vigilance.

That said, the intense psychological pain of watching Town play never seems to deter me from supporting them; and with Darren Barnard and Stacy Coldicott looking unlikely to figure in this weekend's game at Colchester, we could be looking at more of the same. Until tomorrow, comrades... now where did I put those black and white striped furry handcuffs?