Cod Almighty | Diary
Diary - Thursday 18 June 2009
18 June 2009
As you probably caught yesterday, O'Peterborough United have officially declared an end to their interest in pissing Town about over Ryan Bennett by conspiring with his agent and giving misleading statements to the media in a concerted strategy to unsettle the player and acquire him for less than his potential worth. Not that this will mean an end to O'Posh's comedy director of football Barry Fry bringing embarrassment to his club and any of its supporters with a sense of shame, as an endgame report in the Peterborough Evening Telegraph demonstrates with painful clarity. Clearly unable to contain his anger at the epic failure of his underhanded scheming as little Grimsby thwart the imperial ambitions of the mighty O'Peterborough, the former Barnet manager has tried to save some face with a laughable dig at Town in the local paper. "They think they can get a couple of million for the boy so good luck to them. I'd be amazed if there's anyone out there prepared to match what we offered," concludes Fry, clearly having given up completely on the idea of retaining any trace of class or dignity whatsoever.
Diary reader Tom Carpenter has a distinctive take on Town's rejection of O'Posh's reported half-million-quid offer for Bennett, believing it is more the work of the manager than the chairman. "Ha!" he begins in an email to the Diary. "Only a young Peter Cook could have come up with something as funny as Mr Fenty's wistful confirmation of Town's rejection of Peterborough's record breaking offer. The whole thing reads on the SNOS like Fenty, pound signs ablazing in his Tory eyes, was desperate to let him go, but Mike Renewell put his foot down. Well done to him, and to Mr Fenty for making me laugh so hard I've spilt tea all over my keyboard." Tom has been particularly shrewd in making a link to Mr Fenty's political inclinations: after all, it's not like the Tories' previous spell in government didn't establish a long track record of selling off key assets at knock-down prices.
Yesterday, Wednesday 17 June 2009, at around 3:28pm BST, I came across something interesting on Vital Football. It's a page on the Lincoln City section of the site, about the Imps' forthcoming meeting with either Town or Scunny in the Lincolnshire Cup. It's interesting because it explains that this local tournament was the very reason for City being founded in 1884, which the Diary must admit I had no idea about. The page also links to a Wikipedia entry all about the Lincs Cup which details the various formats the competition has taken over the 128 years of its existence and lists every winner. Learning all this stuff has been a very satisfying way to spend a few minutes of the close season, other than that it's left me with a nagging ache to find out who were the Grimsby All Saints FC who won the competition in the 1895-96 season.
Just before your regular Diary departs for a short break, leaving a ragtag band of mercenaries to stand in here next week, some of you have emailed about the badly named local restaurants I rather capriciously ripped the piss out of here yesterday. The Sonargaon, Mat Hare explains, "is a tandoori place in Meggies marketplace. Named after the ancient capital of the Benga presumably." Oh, of course - that ancient capital of the Benga. Michael Robinson (of Soccer Books publishing fame) adds that the Sonargaon is "much beloved by some friends of mine. It's reasonable, I suppose, but Eastern Delights (literally) next door is the better option. They give you Mintoes there after your meal, you know. Oh, and a rose for the ladies. Mainly they don't seem to give you gastroenteritis, which is always good in a curry establishment."
Martin Robinson, meanwhile, has found another, well, interesting name for a local venue: "Gypsy Tears is the name of a bar in Cleethorpes," he announces. "Something to do with Borat? What's all that about then? Oh, and the Trawl is going to be a 'Hungry Horse' family restaurant/bar type place. Another local pub bites the dust..." Well, that's something else to talk about. While I'm away, readers, email diary@codalmighty.com with your reminiscences of favourite local pubs, clubs and stuff that aren't around any more, and either we'll catch up when I get back or the reserve diarists can pick it up next week. Cheerio!