Cod Almighty | Match Stats

Saturday 25 April 2026

Division 4

Grimsby Town 4 Kabia (8, pen, 43, 58) Kacurri (22)

Swindon Town 0

Attendance: 8,167 (849 away fans)

Weighing up all the facts the corporate chompers somehow, for unfathomable reasons only known to themselves, alighted on the cheeky chap with three feathers in his cap. What was it that first attracted you to the multi-scoring Jaze Kabia?

Yes, yes, Kabia scored a hat-trick. But what, apart from scoring goals, what does he ever do for us? All great teams are built from the back and it's the man with one name who caught the eye for refusing to be bullied and bashed by Oily Palmer, a magnificently perfect header and don't forget that sumptuous swizzle. Ma-ldini, Mal-dini, Mal-dini, Mal…he's on his way somewhere.

The giddy gafferman could hardly contain himself, gleefully filling the air with flights of rhetorical fancy as he ruminated on the ruination of Fentycon's folly:

"It's a small milestone, we haven't achieved anything of significance…I don't want it to be just the point, my job is to constantly want more, demand more…women's team, U-18s, now we're in the play-offs…we just want to improve."

Ah, he's got a feeling that keeps him on his toes, a feeling he thinks that everybody knows, oh yeah:

"I could smell the atmosphere, the roof was ready to go off again…it's an intimidating place to come when you can see we what you saw today…it's not the end of the road, keep making progress, the P-word…"

C'mon Dave, crack a smile, share the love:

"Not bad. Is that a big enough superlative?"

Woah, steady on, don't get carried away now.

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The witterings and blatherings of this knackered old travelling salesman are usually of no interest to you or I, but let's bask in the warm glow of a self-acclaimed emperor marching towards the guillotine wearing nothing but a frown. After all, revenge is a dish best served out in front of a packed Blundell Park:

"We got outplayed, out-thought, I am totally bereft of what to say, they looked like they didn't want to play…worst performance any of my teams have ever given me…have an interesting meeting on Monday, absolutely gutless and fightless…Everything that's been said about us we just looked like that today….how can you be optimistic and turn it around in a week? My team was embarrassing…"

…Silence…

"Some of these people these days don't communicate in the way I would have, we need some honesty…the last thing I said coming out I said don't jump into tackles, they couldn't handle it…My team made me look like I'm clueless."

It's your team, you chose it and them, perhaps you are. These people? Honesty, you should try it some time, it's the modern way.

"I don't know what else I can say…That's me done."

Indeed it is.

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Each virtue virtually knows no bound, each trait is great and patently sound. They're clean and honest, their manners refined, and with the exception of Darragh wear shoes of the sensible kind. They run like an engine that's freshly oiled as the season's about to come to the boil.

Some minor improvements may not go amiss, but at all times you must remember this: they're a well-educated team yet willing to learn, so where next will the wheel of fortune turn?

Ian, put your toys away, please!

Let's hope we've not peaked slightly too soon and this is a good as it gets.

April is the cruellest month.

A big disgrace to the human race, not one of them was interested in making the effort to make an effort and they barely had an effort.

The only reason Town didn't score more in the second half was because the ball was constantly being passed out and run out of play by a succession of shocking Swindonites. They managed to recede from an apparition to a blank. This rag tag bunch of desiccated, homeopathic punters matched, nay surpassed, Cheltenham for ineptitude and attitude.

The worst collection of shirts seen for many a year, they played like they'd all just been informed their contracts were not being renewed. Perhaps they don't want their contracts to be renewed on this sinking ship?

They deserve to be thrown out the Football League for this alone. Not even a shower, just an amateur shambles.

A full house in full voice with no lull and they could hear us in Hull.

Mr C Brook

After an initial wobble this raspberry ref was a sensible sheepdog shepherding the match through to a sensible end, keeping himself to himself and letting the game flow to its natural conclusion: 7.801

Irrepressible and impressively immense, Town were practically perfect in every way.

In a word: it's got to be...perfick