Cod Almighty | Diary

Diary - Monday 28 May 2012

28 May 2012

I'm eating a muffin, is that the maguffin? Do you want to join your Deviant Diary in a game of Monday morning Pontoon pontoon? Twist.

The bunting is out, the street parties have been licensed, the heat is on: season tickets are the same price as last year. Hurrah, we aren't going to pay more for more of the same, just more of the same for the same old, same old. And if you look deeper into the eyes of the obligatory link you'll find exciting news of exciting new pre-season friendlies against teams we always have pre-season friendlies against. Same old, same old. Like a spinning wheel, round and around we go again. Let's twist again.

It's free drinks all round next year as the Mariners Trust proudly announces that it will run all the bars. They'll ask you for money, but just tell them you haven't got the cash right now and if they don't give you a pint then you won't be able to guarantee that you'll want another one. Remember, it's all for the comfort of John. No news yet on the Mariners Trust stance on tractor trance though. Will they be providing the mood music, the ambience for the amber nectars, the beat for bitter shandy and bitter half-time recriminations? The assembled Trustmen look more on the Phil Collins end of the spectrum, so Cap'n Stevie G'll be a happy supper. Actually they look more of a Phil Collins lookalike line-up. Guilty as charged, m'lud.

Or they could just water the beer down. Yeah, that'll do for the kidney-punching metaphorical allegory du jour, as Joey Barton said to the bishop. Twist.

And the big footballing news from the weekend was that Nick Colgan didn't kick the ball away at Wembley. Who cares about That England: the charity chuggers provided more vim, verve and swerve than Roy's toy soldiers. Who didn't chuckle when the chunky chippy chef was felled by Teddy Slow. Twist.

Poor old Darlo fans, they're not even in the Northern Premier League Division One South. That's tautology on a stick. Being a comprehensive schooled lad, I was never taught tautology. It probably explains my shoes.
Oh, we're bust.