Cod Almighty | Diary

Diary - Thursday 8 September 2005

8 September 2005

Hiya! Bottom-of-the-Barrel Diary here, writing as bloody usual from the remote and sinister Lincolnshire village of Tetney. But beware! On Saturday I plan to fire up the ol' mule and head for the big city (Peterborough) where I will single-handedly ruin Town's astonishingly win-mongous sequence of away-day triumphs. I haven't seen the stripeys win since February, see, having missed the one Blundell Park Three Pointer they've managed since then.

Consequently the sheer Marvin-ness of my demeanour will doubtless drain the will to win, and possibly the will to live, from players and fans alike. "They're gonna score here!" I shall declaim, Burns-like, as Peterborough kick off, irritating the Cheerful Charlie Chesters around me beyond endurance, and perhaps prompting the formation of an impromptu lynch mob. Not to worry, I'm used to dealing with those in Tetney.

Grimsby, in spite of what some residents will tell you, is actually part of a wider community. We live in a place called England, part of a group of islands perched off the western end of the continent of Europe, separated from our nearest neighbours (The Congo) by a thin strip of water called the English Channel. We have a football team, who we now know to be a bunch of preening ponces, and a cricket team, who hopefully will prove themselves to be genuine sporting heroes as the last Test match starts today. As I write we are 74 for 0, which is nice, and I urge everyone to um...get behind the team, which probably involves shouting at the telly or something. But anyway, no booing, that's the important thing.

So, I might see you at Peterborough. If we lose due to my voodoo-jinx presence, and you want to remonstrate with me, I'm a small blonde girl with pigtails. You can't miss me.

Cheerio!