Cod Almighty | Diary

Diary - Monday 5 November 2007

5 November 2007

Little by little the night turns around.

As Town fall like a crumpled leaf onto the overgrown garden of despair it's Devious Deviant Diary contemplating a riposte to the rabid post-Rotherham ranters and recommending a sturdy lawnmower of love to help you through the day.

After Saturday's South Yorkshire pudding the pitchforks are out in spades. Ah, Nesbitboards, the emotional mulch of festering dead leavers and rotten vegetable men in the compost heap of Grimsby life. Why does anybody read them? It's like listening to six old drunks in a snug bar. Witness the man who wails at the wall and wallow in self pity if you wish, but shall we be calm and rational, just like Ciaran Toner? Calm and rational? How very unGrimsby. With a little luck we can work it out.

It's not all bad news for the women's team is sweeping all of Lincolnshire away in a Tsunami of goals. So that's where that elusive striker is.

Forward to the future: Town have been ordered by the Football League to play a professional football game tomorrow against a bunch of mercenaries in Buckinghamshire. It is not obligatory for our brave boys to hold their noses, but the stench may be overwhelming. It's Logan's last run but at least it's nearer Walsall, so Martin Butler may feel like dancing a bit more than he did on Saturday morning.

Remember that love is the shadow that ripens the wine. Let's give them some love now and again, eh.