Cod Almighty | Match Stats

Tuesday 17 September 2013

Conference Premier

Halifax Town 4 Carver (19), Gardner (27, 32), Smith (47)

Grimsby Town 0

Attendance: 1602 (518 away fans)

My dear old thing, Ross Hannah ran around, and so did Joe Colbeck. They tried and they looked like they were trying. These two young men, and James McKeown, can stand aside from the gibbet, toss those cabbages and rotten tomatoes at the guilty when they are paraded through town on tumbrels.

John Shelton Fenty appointed Shorty and Shouty. Shorty and Shouty bought every single one of them. The buck stops at the top, so aim high with those putrid vegetables.

Ah, you want to have the train drivers and ticket collectors named and shamed for the train crash, rather than the fat cat controllers? Everyone except Hannah, Colbeck and McKeown. Heartless, ineffectual, incompetent and gormless. And that was just the back four.

"I wouldn't say painful. I'd say embarrassing was more a word that I would probably use."

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The evidence before this court is incontrovertible. There's no need for the jury to retire. This will not do.

It was excruciating at 0-0, and that was the high point, the acme of achievement. These... these... Photoshop footballers could not cope with more athletic, stronger, motivated, organised and disciplined (part-time) opponents. They had neither wit nor will and it was the equivalent of Oldham 2003 in the deep, deep anus footballis that is Fenty Town FC.

The truth is out there, and has been all year. This was not an aberration, simply the worst of a bad job lot of non-performances using a monumentally moronic 'system' which just amplifies the physical and mental inadequacies of the players brought in specially to play that system. This was the logical conclusion of what we've watched all season.

Poor old Scott Kerrdle is the Scott Parker of the non-League: he's yesterday's man. If the legs don't work, it just makes you worse – he's like a cat in the bag, waiting to drown at Town. It's a shame, but there you are.

What about beardy-weirdy Jones? One strong surge and two terrifically terrible back-passes left everyone wondering whether he'd go back to find some peace of mind in San Jose.

But why pick on individuals? Any outfielder could've have been taken off, at any time. We're waiting to cut out the dead wood and clean out the Town. Is there anybody out there to save this club?

It's completely broken.

You could see that these Shaymen were mysterious, mischievous and devious as they circulated among the people in the place. But are these geezers good?

Well, they are a lot better than our lot. They passed, they moved, they tackled and grooved as they swaggered and swayed past the Town's turtles, Hurst's Heroes in a hardshell. If they hadn't declared at lunch they could have rattled up double figures.

They looked better all round than Alfreton, more fluid than Nuneaton and were admirable, interesting and entertaining. But it's impossible to judge as they were playing against a wall.

Rancid rage and recriminations rained down on the rabble.

All alone, or in twos, the ones who really love them walked up and down and were appalled. When the going got tough, several left at half time.

Mr D England (S Yorks)

There is no point in awarding arbitrary numbers: he was barely an actor in this Shakespearean footballing tragedy. He even took pity on these outclassed, humiliated joggers and jivers wearing our kit. I refuse to allocate a score.

Town's tissue paper professionals dissolved in the West Yorkshire water. And it wasn't even raining.

In a word: shame