Cod Almighty | Diary

Diary - Wednesday 24 June 2009

24 June 2009

It's Lincolnshire Showtime baby!

On Thursday 18 June 2009, throwing his last summer dice in an attempt to drum up user-derived content in these torpid days of hot longueur, Mr Normal Diary begged for clarity on what historians will call "the Sonagoan Incident" and memories of pubs you have known. Yes, curry houses and pubs in the last resort. Well, I, Deviant Diary, have eaten in the Sonargo(a)n, and lived in the Trawl for a month in 1975, where all I remember is watching Space 1999 while sat at a baby grand piano, underneath a very large rubber plant. Like Flash Gordon, I am still alive.

Who will save us from this torment of nothingness?

Ah-ha! Guess who just got back today - Re-Newell is back in Town, Re-Newell is back in Tow-ow-ow-ow-ow-own. Cool Hand Mike is seriously relaxed about signing a keeper, is seriously relaxed about signing The Sweeney, and is generally seriously relaxed. In the source material, a seriously relaxed saunter through the canyons of his mind with Delightful Dale, the Peter Levy of the SNOS,© the manager with the dancing eyes foxtrotted across the ballroom of Town's future confirming that he's looking for a goalkeeper plus three new players, before throwing in a tease about a long-term loan. To save you the bother of hunting high or low for his exact comments, here it is (with the umms and aahs and Dalesque diversions removed): "a bit of pace in the wide areas right or left, a midfield berth (Sweeney), a keeper and another striker". And don't get too excited; he knows who he wants and he'll get them before the season starts. No panic, no worries.

All of which will disappoint big Town fan and Posho chairman Dairmid O'Hanraha-hanrahan who bleated to his local o'ragfest about, ooh loads of things, which is paraphrased and filleted for Bennettian bones of local confection by our local ragfest: "We of course missed out on Bennett which annoyed me big time as we put together a deal that would have earned Grimsby up to a million over time and I am sure it would have allowed them to bring in four or five good players that may have given them a good push in League Two."

Now there's a figure that sets a benchmark for expectations, especially for Mr Taxman and Mr Bank Manager. And of course Mr Nesbit of North Messageboard-in-the-Marsh. Before the frothers in the fens get too excited, just note the words "over time". No dates, no facts, just a bald assertion without context.

Football is run by idiots, we know that, we're not fools. "An example would be two players offered to us over six weeks ago on free transfers. We could have secured them for £1,800 per week, but they weren't for us... they have now joined League One clubs for 3k per week thus illustrating my point about how some clubs are run." Dairmid, the millionaire backer of a small town club with low supporter base, rails against clubs spending beyond their means. Which neatly brings the recurring theme of failure to crisis club number 43 this summer: Stockport County, the even madder Hatters. No board, no management, no players, no ground and now they've sold the shirts off their own backs. They are naked before the world, without dignity or garish polycotton fibres. At least Mr Fentycon has been ahead of the curve here.

Talking of selling, after just two English weeks there are over 1,000 season ticket holders already. Everybody's laughing, everybody's happy.

How can we end but with the never popular Gigs in Wigs feature? News seeps out that Phil Spector is a sensitive needs prisoner after his wife claimed he was mistreated, forced to sleep naked on the floor for two nights and to eat out of a bowl with his hands like a dog. Dogs don't have hands.

And on that bombshell I'll hand you on to another furtive diarist in these dogs days of summer. Chicka ferdy para sol. Tomorrow is just another day.