Cod Almighty | Diary
Diary - Wednesday 19 August 2009
19 August 2009
The Diary's campaign to close down Grimsby Town Football Club received a boost last night as a stirring but ultimately fruitless performance from the Mariners showed that Town will always fail, no matter what goes right or wrong. Outplayed but not outfought in the first half, Mike Newell's side dominated Rotherham after the break only to go down 2-1 to a combination of lapses in concentration and weird officiating. On another day, advocates of continuing to run the club might argue, the team might have been allocated another referee, and without the perverse decision-making of Graham Salisbury and his two assistants the same performance might have brought a win. On that day, though, of course, the same performance won't happen. After 130 years of hurt it ought to be clear to everyone concerned with the club that when everything else goes right, the players themselves will get it wrong, or an obscure technicality will mean Blundell Park is closed after failing a safety inspection, or a freakish shower of Gamibian crimson bullfrogs will force the match to be abandoned with three minutes remaining and Town leading 17-0. The only possible response: Shut Down The Town!
New York-based Diary reader Graham King has emailed to sign up to the Shut Down The Town campaign: "OK, you've forced me into it!" Granted, he doesn't actually say he's signing up to it, but that can be the only possible conclusion from the exhaustive list he has drawn up detailing the pros and cons of Shutting Down The Town:
Pros:
Cons:
Meanwhile John Ellis, the Shut Down The Town naysayer who emailed yesterday with a moving but ultimately very misleading message of hope, has been in touch again. "Thanks printing earlier message," he begins. "Bright idea! Need new slogan! Inspiration young Grimsby womanhood 50 years ago. Word picture. She 5' 2", slim as whippet, little or no bust, cheap peroxide hair growing out roots, short skirt, jumper exhibits remains earlier meals, roll-up corner mouth. Accompanied son, little boy 4-ish, snotty nose, metal-rimmed glasses held together grubby piece Elastoplast. Boy trips over kerb Freeman Street, crashes pavement. Mother unprepossessing, but would never expose child to neglect, cruelty nor abuse - would never be tolerated Grimsby. When gets home, will apply iodine grazed knees. But her instinctive reaction to fall is appeal to child's genetically-inherited, innate intestinal fortitude, and she screams: 'Bloody gerrup!' Mariners are now down, and the crowd, if any, should bellow at them: 'Bloody gerrup!' Well, at least it will be funny and have benefit of logic. PS: Do such young ladies still exist in Grimsby?" If John's singular prose style is the result of a career spent composing telegrams, then he clearly missed his vocation as an advertising executive.
Today's final word is from Mark Wilson, who asks simply: "Can we start a campaign to get John Ellis to do the pre-match and half-time team talks?" Great idea, Mark - need contact Newell suggest. If that doesn't work, I don't know what will... hey, and that was the whole point of Shut Down The Town!