Cod Almighty | Diary
Diary - Tuesday 8 April 2003
8 April 2003
Not much in the way of GTFC news today - short of John McDermott joining Georges Santos and Simon Ford as doubtful for tonight's game against Wolves - so I'm handing over today's Diary to you, the people, and the six emails you've sent since yesterday, as Strawberry Switchblade once sang. 'Since Yesterday', I mean; they probably received a lot more than six emails when it came out.
First up, Cod Almighty's very own Si Wilson, who responds positively to the news in yesterday's Diary that Town's chairman wants the league to dock points from clubs in administration: "I agree with Mr Furneaux's remarks. I would have agreed with them in a more whole-hearted manner if Leeds hasn't trounced Charlton at the weekend and reduced their chances of relegation and the inevitable administration that would have ensued." The Diary can only assume from this unreasonable outburst that Mr Wilson has had some kind of altercation with his Elland Road-frequenting in-laws.
The bulk of your overnight correspondence, however, concerns the Diary's ongoing cranial pain, and let me say immediately that I am deeply touched by your concern - even Si's, who suggests a sequel to Being John Malkovitch: "Was it like having a disco in your brian? Groovy!" The entirely diverting image of many young people strutting their stuff inside the manager of Scunthorpe United has made me feel better already.
Marnix Kolder, meanwhile, presents a similarly entertaining slip of the pen. "It could be the bends. Have you been diving for an excessive amount of time recently resulting in a build-up of nitrogen in your bloodstream that cannot be held in solution at 1 atmosphere leading to nitrogen bubbles in your blood that could mean headaches ultimately followed by either a heart attack or a stoke?" That reminds me - Ade Akinbiyi, acquired on loan by Town's relegation rivals on deadline day, has been ruled out for the rest of the season with damage knee ligaments!
"Dear Diary," begins a correspondent identifying himself only as Dave, "On Saturday, you mentioned that there were 'bright colours floating around the room'. From this i can conclude one of two things: either you have been dropping tabs of LSD (then, presumably, picking them up again, blowing the dust off, and ingesting them); or that this is the early stages of you transmogrifying into a higher, non-corporeal form of life. If it's the latter, please let me know how it's done, as travelling the universe using merely the powers of thought has to be better than sitting behind a desk all day." Sorry, mate - trade secret.
Zebedee Flowerbud, meanwhile (I'm not making this up, though I presume he is), blames it on the Diary's lifestyle. "Over the past few years, I believe you may have indulged in extremely heavy drinking sessions, yet have awoken the following morning as bright as the proverbial button. Now, despite you lessening your alcohol intake, you are suffering these awful cranium crushers. I feel that your headaches may be caused by Karma." Don't know about the rest of you, but I suspect Mr Flowerbud to be a lightweight of the highest order whose diagnosis is informed only by his own feelings of inadequacy at being unable to hold his beer.
And finally, our old mucker Mark Wilson, who is, or seems to be, a real person, but begins by urging: "please don't quote me verbatim on this". I'll try and paraphrase, then. Mark praises the efforts of Messrs Keane and Hughes in the Town midfield at Leicester at the weekend and argues that, far from "strolling" to their win as the Diary so blithely decided on Saturday, the home side could have been a goal down at half time but for some dreadful shooting. I'm going verbatim for the next bit though, Mark, because I like it. "If you get a ground like the Stadium of Crisps by going bust," writes our man in Hertfordshire, "can we get the administrators in pronto please!" Carlisle's Paul Raven, he adds, was found a little wanting for pace on both Bristol City goals in the LDV Vans final on Sunday. "Regards to the lovely Mrs Diary," concludes Mark cheekily. I could get quite used to letting other people write this column for me, you know.