Cod Almighty | Diary

Diary - Friday 9 March 2007

9 March 2007

Mr Michael Reddy, the man who dreams that he gets as much ass as a toilet seat, remains too unfit to play first-team football. The Grimsby Telegraph tells us that he played a bit for the reserves on Monday, but that's his lot for the minute according to Lord Buckley - although the great man appeared to be slightly amazed to report that the 'mercurial' Irishman had turned up for training the next day after his big comeback match. This is the end of the Reddy bulletin - which was sponsored this week by Toilet Duck. Remember, gentle reader, the liver is evil and must be regularly punished...

Of more pressing concern to your Guest Diarist is the other news in the same article that Nick Fenton limped out of training yesterday with a sore achilles. Now this is an injury that I know something about, having had a dodgy achilles for ten years or more. I have it on record from none other than the bloke who used to be physio for Wimbledon in the early nineties that you can't really make 'em better - you just have to wait for them to get better on their own. He then proceeded to prescribe six expensive weekly visits to him so he could, presumably, watch nature take its course. Oh what tales he told, though, of derring-do with the Crazy Gang, and watching Linford Christie improve dramatically after a course of 'special' injections. Any road, Fenton had ice applied to his sore bit and is hoping it goes off. Young Mr Grand is on standby to deputise.

The wires have been singing clear up from Hereford county about how well those bullocks are doing this season. Lord Buckley has relied a bit on reports from his assistant to know this, but his opinion is more entrenched by the fact that their manager (Graham Turner) has done nearly as many games as he has. Hereford managed to get another loan of striker Steve Guinan who scored a load of goals in the Conference for them. This will be a tough match to get anything out of, methinks. In fact that rating system which Cod Almighty tipster Mat Hare uses (which is about as complex to decipher as working out when Easter is gonna be without access to a calendar) says we are going to lose. Mat, being a Town fan, resorts to saying Rateform is probably crap anyway and predicts a point. Let's hope that blind hope wins the day over the quadratic equation, shall we? And anyway that idiot Lovejoy says they are the "best team in the world" because the team hit the crossbar three times from the halfway line, so that has to count in our favour, surely, says the straw-clutching diarist.

Bernard Morley was a cracking bloke. He always said hello to me at matches, even though I only went on his buses about twice and that over 20 years ago. He was that sort of bloke, wasn't he? When I heard he'd died my first thought was "thank God he didn't go towards the end of that horrible sequence of defeats". At least he can rest knowing Town are in mid-table obscurity in the fourth division. I don't believe we have an imaginary friend in the sky, so this eulogy will stop now, but Blundell Park will be the poorer without Bernard. See yer.