Cod Almighty | Diary

Diary - Friday 29 April 2005

29 April 2005

Hey up, good morning, and welcome back to the strange world inhabited by your old friend Guest Diary. A world where the likely return of Tony Crane, the complete absence of local dentistry services and the gynaecological mysteries of the posterior position have all recently preoccupied the man labelled a cross between Richard Brautigan and a minor Thomas Hardy character. So, once more unto the breach, gentle reader, as I prepare for imminent grandfatherhood by idly speculating how the strange suburb that Iyseden Christie sounds like came to be anally mauled by a football boot.

Is it worth drawing to your attention that the black and white striped gingerbread boys of Grantham Town won the Lincolnshire Shield, defeating the unholy trinity that is Gainsborough? The Grantham Journal reports that 265 souls turned out to watch an incident-packed game which featured sendings-off, floodlight failure and predictable post-match acrimony to rival the recent goings on in Beckindale shop.

But what of Town, you ask. Will the boys of summer get a run-out? Will it be possible to fit Tony Crane, who possibly weighs his age, in the bus? Will Heggarty and Parky maraude the wings whilst Gritton and North forage the rich Kidderminster forward pasture? Will Jason Crowe sneak into his favourite right-back slot as McDermott fails to resuscitate his leg? Thankfully the Telegraph has just published most of the answers in a piece headlined Crane on blocks to face Harriers. The subtlety of which completely escapes me.

Any road, it sounds like Crane is playing, and so is Gritton. But Stacy probably won't start, although he'd like to, as he hails from just down the road; so he tells the Telegraph. Ramsden, Forbes and Jones will mop up Tony's cock-ups at the back. And the young lad Heggarty "may make an appearance at some point". My player of the year, Glen Downey, is likely to occupy a key position on the bench. If you are interested in Kidderminster then read Cod Almighty's exhaustive preview penned by Simon Wilson, who, it seems, will not be going owing to it being a totally pointless game or summat.

Look, friends, it's actually too nice a day to be writing this, and too nice a day for you to be reading it. I suggest that we meet in the pub garden in about ten minutes. Mine's a pint of XXXB. Enjoy the game tomorrow, if you don't make it. See yer.