Cod Almighty | Diary

Diary - Wednesday 10 June 2009

10 June 2009

First there was the long and drawn-out transfer saga that preceded Thierry Henry's switch to Barcelona. Then there was the even longer and, er, drawn-outer transfer saga that preceded Cristiano Ronaldo's switch to Real Madrid. Then the biggest club of all decided they needed a galactico of their own, and Peterborough United moved in for Ryan Bennett. Peterborough's director of unsettling transfer targets via his friends in the southern media, Barry Fry, has been working through the stages of his carefully constructed plan to ensnare the Grimsby captain and has this week reached phase three: get the agent to tell the media Bennett wants to move, and that way he won't forfeit his loyalty bonus by asking for a transfer, and Posh can save a few quid on his signing-on fee. Hence the appearance yesterday of stories about Bennett "wanting" and "asking for" his dream move to Cambridgeshire, and "urging" GTFC to let him go.

So was it just part of Fry's campaign of shit-stirring when he responded to Town's initial brush-off by claiming that "certain things have changed, as they always do in football"? Or does he know something we don't? In a near reprise of the classic administrative blunder that allowed Crystal Palace to sign Danny Butterfield for free, did Town forget to activate their option to extend Ryan's contract, so that the only alternative to the "derisory" offer that came in from London Road last week would be a fee decided by a tribunal? Or is Fry just a cynical bastard who couldn't believe his luck when a bored Irish millionaire stuck in a pin in a map and the nearest club was Peterborough?

"Dear Diary," writes Will Douglas, in an email to the Diary rather than an entry in a journal of his private reflections, "Following your intended chant tuition with your six-month-old bairn, please can you put this to bed once and for all?" Well, I try, Will, but Baby Diary won't go down to sleep until he's watched the DVD of Town beating Spurs the other year with Daddy waving his arms around like a nutcase at the end. Oh, hang on - there's another question. "Is it 'Mike Re-Newell's barmy army'? Or 'Mike Re-Newell's black and white army?' Yours bewitched, bothered and bewildered, UTM, Will." Well, there's a good question, and the Diary's not much of a singer, so perhaps you readers would like to email in and enlighten us. And that reminds me - when we sing "We piss on your fish", do we mean we literally empty our bladders on to the other lot's cod before we send it down to them, or do we mean it figuratively, as in our fish is simply much better than their fish? Email diary@codalmighty.com with the answers to these questions and anything else you like.

With that I bid you goodbye in an early end to the week, as your regular Diary is off to London in an hour or so, for my last chance to see The Pains of Being Pure at Heart in a reasonable venue before they move on up to the Carling O2 Natwest Shockwaves Academy circuit. Guest diarists will, of course, see you through Thursday and Friday. So long for now.