Cod Almighty | Diary

Diary - Monday 27 December 2010

27 December 2010

With Mr Normal Diary slumped by the fire with his whiskey and gin, and donning his Christmas cardigan to sing about his delicious chocolate éclairs, it is left to me, that is I, Deviant Diary to be your slightly underwhelming replacement. The Val Doonican to his Perry Combover, if you will. A slight space-filler in this unsettling midpoint between postponed matches.

It's the time of year for rueful reflection and wistful, wishful nostalgia. Nothing says Christmas more than a five hour special on Nazi collaborators or a trite space-filler in the GT about Town's year from hell (series 10, released as a DVD box set on January 3rd, to beat the VAT rise). In a very real sense, a documentary on fascist stooges is a companion piece to the Queen's speech, of course. A complimentary piece and a complementary piece. An unsettling space-filler in the slight midpoint between paragraphs.

Are we at peace? We'll know tomorrow morning whether a positive pitch inspection by a man from Doncaster will end Town's hysterically historical unbeaten run. Let the facts speak for themselves sir - no league game lost since October 10th and no goals conceded since November 20th to boot! This could run and run, unlike some of our midfielders.

In the land of amateur football administration revenge is a dish best served with some advanced ticket sales only: Mansfield supporters have the utter and ridiculous annoyance of having to buy tickets for the soon to be postponed New Year's Day fixture; it's a reciprocal arrangement, as an actress never said to a bishop, Englishman, Irishman and Scotsman in bar or whilst she crossed the road. At this rate all will be quiet on New Year's Day, and the western front too. A bummer crowd, rather than a bumper one.

There is no news on the state of Town's toilets. If we can't flush, there can be no push for promotion.

And if the ground upon which our warriors roam remains as hard as a barmaid's face in Eastenders we can console ourselves with Ricky's pouting in a land down under, where the sneers flow and their men chunter. We can snuggle up to snigger at Rrrrrrricky.