Cod Almighty | Diary

Could be butterflies, could be that curry

3 April 2015

Good Friday one and all, it's your London Diary here slightly miffed that I'm having to write a diary on a bank holiday. I mean, most of you are probably on holiday or already down the pub. Is anyone even there?

Today's diary will very much be like Paul Hurst: short, and to the point. I'm on my way from London to Grimsby to start the party weekend and I haven't been this excited since going to Phil Elliot's house when I was 9 and discovering his loft had been turned into a train set room. Literally a loft full of train sets which included the brand new Hornby Intercity 225. What an Easter weekend that was. All change please.

A huge congrats to our gaffer who this morning picked up the MOTM award. Now, we all know what that has meant in the past and I think it's best that we ignore it and move on. I'd prefer him to be manager of the month for April but let's see what happens.

Now. This weekend is massive. Huge. Bloody enormous. Mammoth. You get the picture. If you can, pack the Park tomorrow. Bring your scarves, shirts, inflatables, gran, parents and swing them all in the air. We need as much noise as possible tomorrow. It's like when you watch rugby on the television and the 'men' head towards that 'line' and all the 'middle class' men shout 'heave' and they then push harder. That's what we want, I think. I'm not sure if we're the men pushing or the men shouting, but either way, get stuck in.

So I'm gonna jump in the car and drive up the A1 and while I'm driving past the weird little metal diners and the even weirder little private shops, all I'm going to be thinking of is of our beloved Town. I've packed three retro shirts for Monday and suggest you all do the same. Let's wear colours tomorrow and show Gateshead who the real black and white army are. Let's sing our hearts out, let's never boo, let's bang that drum for 90 minutes, let's get behind the lads and let's heave til we bring the top spot home. UPTHEBLOODYMARINERS!