Cod Almighty | Diary

Diary - Thursday 26 January 2012

26 January 2012

I can smell cat food, but we haven't got a cat. Can you solve the riddle of the cans? It is Thursday, I am Deviant Diary, you are reading this with at least one arched eyebrow. Things are more Freda Karlo than Fred Karno these days.

I can't be bothered with Barry the Barrow Boy's me-old-china-cup-chirpy-cockernee-knees-up tickling of Hearn's ivories. And neither can he.

What would a Thursday be without someone's stockings needing mending? Today's holey sock is lying in the wreckage of the Safecracker Stadium. Now my advice to those who cry is beware the pennies on your eye. Dear old Darlo have another white knight goin' messin' up their brains.

Awww, these white knights are gonna drive them insane. It's the hope that kills. They started with six teenagers on Tuesday and had a full house on the bench too - that's a youth team, not a professional club. Their mere existence is now starting to skew the league, the impact dependent upon the arbitrary fickle finger of fixture list fate. 'Tis a sad thing, 'tis a bad thing, 'tis a mad thing.

Which is not uncannily like the London Planetarium, but is uncannily like the mood of the average Townite when watching Anthony Elding bounding free towards an opening goal. He did it again on that wet Tuesday night in Barrow: the BSP version of an old sore.

Where would we be without clichés? With half a diary, matey, which is better than half of nothing. Where are we? Rock bottom. Tragedies? We got 'em with that lazy, lazy journalistic tic - the cold night in Grimsby. Here we go again - the stock market is supposedly like a 0-0 draw at Blundell Park.

Someone hasn't been clocking the information that's sweeping the nation. Everybody knows we trail none but the brave Barca Boys. Get with the programme grandad. How many amps do you want with that gramophone of yours?

All of which diverts your attention away from the dry drudgery of life, the existential angst of late capitalist wage slavery. Sir, we gave you just one more slice of bread in the circus of Town life. Maybe jam tomorrow, eh?