Cod Almighty | Diary

Diary - Thursday 24 March 2005

24 March 2005

In the Diary's more melancholy frames of mind, I sometimes reflect that life is a series of last-evers. There's the last ever time you see GTFC play second-flight football. The last ever time you see the first house you bought. As your beer belly extends into middle age, there's the last ever time you see your own meat and two veg without a mirror. But it's not all bad, because one day it'll be the last ever time I write the Diary. Today, meanwhile, is the last ever spring transfer deadline, because of that ingenious window system being extended from next season, bringing to the Football League's 72 clubs all its profound and numerous benefits, such as... um... well, I'm sure I'll remember.

Anyway, at the time of writing there is no news of any last-minute wheeling and dealing by Mr Russell Slade, although the rapacious, cash-crazed suits who populate Blundell Park's corporate inner sanctum view today not as a sad end to a traditional and much-loved date on the footballing calendar, to fans as much a herald of springtime as nodding daffodils and the clocks coming forward, but as a commercial opportunity to be ruthlessly exploited to the max by promoting the club's SMS service. It would never have happened in Lawrie Mac's day, you know.

There is news, however, of Mariners past. Michael Boulding has gone to Cardiff on loan, which is slightly surprising given that he had finally been looking like he might be any good for Barnsley. Michael Keane - the tattooed Hull midfielder who done good on loan to Town from Preston two years ago - has landed at Millmoor after being ejected from the KC's revolving door, probably to make space for another three strikers. And Craig Armstrong - one of the many here-today-gone-later-today nomads who did nothing to help the Mariners avoid relegation last season - is making an enforced giant leap for utility player-kind out of Valley Parade after doing nothing to help Bradford do anything very much this season. "He hasn't showed me enough and he would probably say the same himself," sniffed Bantams boss Colin Todd. So would we, Col; so would we.

Anyway, I'm bollocksed if I'm going to sit here all afternoon telling you which no-mark midfield journeyman has signed until the end of the season for which frustrated semi-bankrupt provincial lower-division side with a faint mathematical possibility of losing in the play-off semi-finals, so I'll let the BBC do it instead.

Today is also cheese/song title deadline day, and Diary readers have conducted a number of last-minute transactions before the door swings shut forever (thank God). Edited highlights only, because I'm getting bored. Respect is due to John Pakey and his mates at work for curdling the words of Elton John ('I'm Stilton Standing') and Chris de Burgh ('Lady in Red Leicester') and to Rich Mills for 'In-A-Gouda-Da-Vidda' by Iron Butterfly and 'I'll Brie There For You' by The Rembrandts. A smelly, blue-veined thumbs-up, meanwhile, goes to Andrew 'I'll Get Me Coat' Lumbard for The Who's double A-side of 'Cheese Box'/'You Feta You Bet'; ELO's 'Ma Babybel'; The Clash's 'Paneer Opportunities'; and Joy Division's 'She's Gloucester Control'. Now, was that last one just an album track or did they release it as a Kraft single? Sorry.

The Diary has heard a tantalising rumour that CA's cheese-themed erstwhile Refwatch specialist Mark Stilton could be reprising his pre-match check on officialdom in time for the Easter programme. Of football matches, I mean, not Sunday's Corrie. Let's hope so, because the bastards in the green this weekend will be Nigel Miller at Bury tomorrow, famous for his remarkable handling of Town's humiliating defeat at Scunthorpe earlier this season, and Joe Ross at home to Rushden on Monday, who in 2002 was responsible for the worst single refereeing decision the Diary has ever seen: a penalty awarded to Coventry against Town when Lee Mills ran into Paul Groves' back and tossed himself to the turf in such an unconvincing and half-arsed manner that his own team-mates were embarrassed by Ross's spot-kick call. Let 'em have it, Stilts!

That's it. I'm off. No guest diarist this weekend: I'll do you a round-up tomorrow night. Have a great weekend.