Cod Almighty | Article

by Alistair Wilkinson

16 August 2006

There's brown sauce on my new shirt and
Boston are here to hurt. It didn't look good,
not as good as it should. It had to drop in the
white and I knew things wouldn't go right.
They went wrong; everything went wrong.
For Boston the game half an hour too long,
but it gave us this season's song.

The Town head still Homer's bed but Rankin
was waiting, the Pontoon's breath bating.
We're forward, back, forward, back; Boston
attack, Boston attack. Our turn yet? Nowhere
near the net.

The see-saw seats, the glances at phones and
the echoing groans. "You don't know what
you're doing!" Nothing's happening. Old,
cold and not very bold.

We're pregnant again, December's when, so
soon there'll be two, a pair to add to the
Blundell few. Littlefella has new words
every day, now I've taught him to say:

"Peter Bore!"

A slow start? We're not in the blocks! And
there're very few shocks. We wanted a new
beginning, it didn't have to mean winning but
somebody forgot to wash the slate, the Park
drifts back to hate, then slumps again to
apathetic slumber, summed up by Lump's
lumber. Has there been a summer?

Then Town exploded to life, the Blundell Big
Bang. Yin's dead; long live Yang! We got
better as Boston got wetter, crushed like an
Irish red setter under a three-ton letter – it
was that ridiculous and tremendous and
fabulous... and hazardous.

"Peter Bore!"

Well, that was the half-hour of the season
and just about every reason. Now we've got a
wonder kid, how's his id? We'll rely on him,
smother him; we'll crush, we'll squeeze. Not
another Flash, please.

Down to Wrexham but there's no one to hex
'em. Buy a stamp, get a letter in the post and
send it to Downey's ghost; we need a squad!
Butcher said it was worse, Futcher not alone
for curse. No midfield, where's that boxer?
He was a spoiler. I guess he didn't like our
party, why bring your own Rolls to a three-
quid carvery? We're having beef and
turkey.

"Peter Bore!"

Any hope in Bristol? The lodger tells me, a
little, but without the Burns and his bellicose
spurns I went to the flicks for my dose of
tricks. Superman Returns is ordinary.
Town any good? Not very.