Cod Almighty | Diary

A classless society

13 January 2014

What to do when you've been morally excluded from Blundell Park? Saturday's FAT calumny is still fresh in your Special Bonus Diary's mind this morn of Monday – for the club's small-minded elitist attitude towards its customers, continued with the removal of choice, atmosphere and sense of occasion. The dentists, corporate schmoozers and middle managers were pandered and pampered, but the working man and woman were excluded from their natural habitat. It's about class – it always is in Britain. No chips, no Pontoon, no respect!

Town won, apparently, so the chance for glorious failure on two fronts continues!

Check out the post-match press conference. Mr Happy and Mr John of Tondeur are very much the Mike and Bernie Winters of the Krillsquare Premiership these days. All it needs is for a St Bernard dog to waddle on during their post-match freeform comedy routines. They laugh together, they cry together, they'll probably sing a sentimental song too. All is well, everyone and everything is beautiful, post Shouty.

While Town's floppy fringers were crawling past Maidenhead, those Lincolnites were adding to the gaiety of the nation with a satisfyingly staggering home capitulation to the Humber Bridge Toll Booths Working Men's Club. It's all of your childhood dreams – Lincoln are falling apart, it seems, even barring the Villagers players from the bar with a petty bar bar. They are rapidly becoming the black sheep of the Conference. If that doesn't gloat your boat, what will? Woah, steady on, we may get Jarman's Jaunty Joskers next: you shouldn't cluck your chickens just yet.

It's like a dam of ignorance has been broken. Once one person confirms it, then another follows and soon afterwards the world shrugs. First it was Giovanni Carchedi, now it's Liam Davis. Who knew Town's youth programme was an incubator for café-owning society? Young Gio does a mean panini down in the Lincoln dead zone between BHS and Boots, and we're sure Davis does a lovely latte. Oh, and something about Liam's sexual identity, but who cares about that these days? Hats off to you, lad.

And we're back to the future. How are we going to get out of this place? Why, by signing all of York's team from 2011, of course. With Jason Walker floating in a tempting tin can somewhere far above the Wolds, Jamal Fyfield is wing-backing his way our way. The archivists have found just one reference from our harrumphing match reporter, who identified Feefiefofield as York's weak link: "didn't like the ball bouncing over or behind him". Is it Jamal today or Jamal tomorrow? Let's hope it isn't Jamal on toast. People change. Who could have envisaged the metamorphosis of the frog Burgerboy into the princely McDonald?

Oh, it's Chorley or Tamworth at home. Surely the Pontoon must be opened when the big guns come to Town.