Cod Almighty | Diary

Goetze, cowson, Goetze

14 July 2014

Somewhere along swanky Florida Street in Buenos Aires three sad gauchos are singing a familiar song: "Su nombre es una tienda, Gonzalo Higuain, su nombre es una tienda".

The cult of personality was defeated by the collective action of a union of individuals. There's a message there for all of us, everywhere, about everything: that tattoos and silly hair get you nowhere. Sensible arms, sensible hair and sensible passing and movement. Guten Abend, Herr Buckley.

The World Cup says goodbye but your Deviant Diary says hello, hello, hello to the world of infinite possibilities but finite probabilities that is Town's pre-season. Saturday's seaside jaunt brought forth three goals and a mystery wrapped inside a riddle. Summer-lovin' TMFKAS won't even whisper in the ear of the SNOS™ for fear of unimaginable horrors descending upon his very soul. He'll suffer tortures of the damned, sir, tortures of the damned if he reveals the secrets in his eyes.

So who were the superhero trialists? Sarge? No. Rosemary the telephone operator? No. Joe Ironside and Adam Hinchliffe from two sides of Sheffield? Could be! The day trippers didn't take so long to find out, yeah, they found out. Loping striker Ironside set up a Hannah tap-in, and bustly midfielder Hinchliffe scored a belter. No-one is yet unimpressed with them, which is utterly bizarre in the World of Blunder.

Meanwhile, in the land of confection and infection everyone everywhere is getting their knickers in a twist over a sneering posh boy making things up out of his own privileged prejudices about the working classes, northerners and football. You dancing chimps who fawned over him at the back of the Pontoon – what did you expect? It says more about him than us. Ignore it, don't feed the publicity machine. Laugh at his ignorance. His comedy is not super silly: he's just supercilious.

Back to life, back to reality. Ironside, eh: wheelchair metaphors at the ready! He's even got his own theme tune. All is now in place for minor, temporary and irrational cultishness for the young colt, so TMFKAS is bound to say he's not quite what we need to ensure we finish fourth and lose in the play-offs.

The time is gone, this diary's over, thought I'd something more to say?