Cod Almighty | Diary

Diary - Thursday 9 February 2012

9 February 2012

In the shimmering ivory towers of Cod Almighty there's no income tax, no VAT. No money back, that's guaranteed. Come join me, that is I, the Diary of Deviance, standing on the grassy knoll of association football and tutting from the hip. I think I saw someone do that on Opportunity Knocks once.

So down in the enchanted, emerald city Dumb Fabio sleeps with his goldfishes because he can't keep his regimental goat in the garden and, in one bound, the self-styled Chauncey Gardiner of football is free. Awwwwwight! Happy Harry, the jovial jowl-wobbler of old London Town, struck it lucky with a cock-er-nee version of a Ken Dodd jury. At a push he could get you some Trevor Francis tracksuits from a mush in Shepherds Bush, no questions, nudge, nudge, say no more. Who among us hasn't forgotten they put £10 in a secret Skegness building society account in the name of their favourite dog? Lovely jubbly! Tax? That's what the little people pay.

And aren't we snow-sodden, soot-stained northern folk so very poor and 'umble.

Ah, so very poor indeed. Taking up the reins of rubbishness recently tossed aside by the SNOS, BBC Look North burbled excitedly last night about Town's epic journey to the quarter-finals of the "FA Johnstone's Paint Trophy", showcasing a squeaky goal by a black and white striped warrior. Marvellous. Local talent for local people.

There's snow and ice around and the Conference paupers are fretting, for they have no more chairs to burn. With Kettering teetering and Darlington having their weekly Armageddon fright-a-thon, every second counts or it's wipeout. Poor old Darlo have no home game until March: no income, just pity.

And what have we learned from Town's Twerton Tuesday? Duffy has cravings and Shouty's touchline ban has made no difference. The Humber Foghorn can be heard for miles and miles and miles and miles.

I've run out of hot chocolate. I've run out of news. I'm running out of here.