Cod Almighty | Diary

Diary - Tuesday 25 September 2007

25 September 2007

It's Tuesday and I'm Deviant Diary: wearing brown, supporting Town, sporting a frown and searching for the long-lost noun. It's a typical day in Townland: Fenty's whoring himself out for want of the price of tea and a slice, the mini-Mariners are chugging in South Yorkshire, there's a lot of mooking by Meeky about birds, and roly-poly Jarman is indulging in some fighting talk.

The SNOS is up to some more commercial puffery today and it's the old favourite: cheap tea and sympathy with OJ Fenty. Buy the ultimate matchday experience: twitching with Positive John, a "chance" to chat with many Town fans followed by a Boardroom Blitz on the buffet. Wine, women and biscuits!

What kind of biscuits do they serve in the boardroom anyway?

The good old SNOS is adamant that the collection of tiny tots and mismatched paint pots they call The Reserves will keep just about the same team that defeated Lincoln last week. They play Rotherham, in Rotherham, today, at 2pm, and once again the name Foulkes appears in defence. Does he or doesn't he wear Harmony hairspray? Will they never tell us?

But what of the future? Jam Roly-Poly is keen to make an impression (and it's not Norman Wisdom pretending to be Tony Gallimore): young Nate's been doing extra training with Big Stu 'Now That's a Haircut' Watkiss, which seems to consist of running up and down the seafront in an homage to Rocky (I and II, not III). Or maybe Big Stu has been putting him through psychological tests with those constant trots past the novelty rock emporium, candyfloss mountains and eternal aroma of doughnuts. Eat all that and you would get constant trots.

Let's sing a lullaby. Golden plovers fill your eyes? Codalmighty's very own feathered Falstaff has sent a loath letter to mistress-in-distress, Geoff Ford. It's the merry whines of Healing: the new ground and birds again. Dirty, disgusting boirds. What are they good for? The chairman's sandwiches in the Fentydome?

Finally, at last, they're back! Football's funniest 50-year olds called Danny have snuck on to the interwaves and they want to know about mad men who sit near you. You won't find that kind of recycled ninnery on Compost FM. Come to think of it, what kind of ninnery do you find on Radio Compost?

You know statistics have proved that England really do much better without Meatballs 4 up front.