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Cod Almighty | Diary

A bleak landscape

16 March 2018

Wicklow Diary writes: A bomb! Near Blundell Park! The official line of an old mine is poppycock. CA have the real story from Chief Inspector John Knacker of Humberside Bombs and Donkeys Squad. Speaking on the condition of anonymity, Knackers, aged 45 and from Brigg, revealed that the bomb, contained in a GTFC kit bag with the initials RS, was intended for BP but completely missed its target. The bag was packed chockful of cheap components connected in a strange formation that had no chance of going off. "We've seen this handiwork before in the Midlands and East London and have a suspect in mind" Knackers confided. "Bombmakers tend to use the same modus operandi. This fella's approach is to obtain a viable explosive device and piss about with it until its unlikely to go off. Ever. We haven't even been able to carry out a controlled detonation on it and I've several un-taxed donkeys to attend to before I clock off."

Knackerses confirmed that the force was hoping to bring in an expert from Sweden to try to explode the bomb parts. They are also keen to track down the bealing caller to Radio Humberside last night that seethed "I only have to be lucky once John, they have to be lucky every single game. Why are they so lucky, John?" before missing the payphone cradle as he tried to hang up.

With all that humour safely defused, happy Friday. It hasn't been a bad week all told. We needed a win last Saturday but ended up with the vibe that Berrett's goal was worth much more than a point. I spent the game like everyone else, searching for some positive morsel to cling to. No sense in waiting for a goal to find your voice. The new guy takes a heavy touch but wins the 50/50 with a crunching tackle. That's the stuff. Clifton running like a whippet off his leash for the first time, slips on his arse but stretches out a leg to win the ball anyway. Good lad.

Considering that Vale hadn't won in 10, we should have been making them squirm after they took their early lead. That we didn't is still causing me intense discomfort. During the game, I turned to those more knowledgeable and even tempered around me: "We're going down." Hoping for someone to pull me out of the dark thoughts but only finding agreement and confirmation. However, this is football and this is Town. The joy at the end gets us through another week. Another week for Michael Jolley to cast a spell and tease every ounce out of this collection of players. He took some time off today to visit St Joseph's where one of the excited kids dressed up as a mini-John Fenty for the day. Freaky. I wish he'd dressed as mini-Phil Day instead.

Jolley added to the squad yesterday with the signing of Gary McSheffrey. (No I will not go there with 'two clapped out lumps washing up at Blundell Park on the same day: what are the chances?' I stand by the opening paragraphs above and McSheffrey still has something to offer). He is available for tomorrow's trip to Lincoln, as is Mallik Wilks. Good. We need some attacking bite. Put him up front with Harry Cardwell, please MJ. 

Ah, Lincoln. As always with these games, fans from both sides are getting het up about t'other and in the process undermining their own footing that the opposition are meaningless losers who are beneath contempt and don't deserve the time of day. The Lincolnshire Echo, a paper drowning in smug and pop up ads, is stirring the pot with some dreadful hyperbole and no doubt has the 'shocking scenes that shame football' articles drafted and ready to publish tomorrow afternoon.

The Imps are on the edge of the play-off places and we're teetering on the edge of the Bananarama event horizon. However, having conquered the Conference in some style, I expected Lincoln to be good bets for automatic promotion this season. The organisation and discipline that brought success last term should transfer well to defeating division four dross.

It's tempting to draw a parallel between the job faced by Michael Jolley now and the Cowleys then. Lincoln circa 2015 BC (Before Cowleys) was a bleak landscape. Bleaker than anything we've slumped to, thankfully. Chucking a bin at your own goalkeeper bleak. Whilst leaning on a farmers gate chewing on a corn stalk and getting tonked 5-3 by Whitewash Buckets FC. On the telly. Any one would be bad enough but all that in one picture is Turner Prize material. The attempts at tifo back then were also telling. When the Co-op tarp covering the unused seats overshadows your crepe paper display, it's time to pack it in. 

Imps before the Cowleys


Fast forward to 2018. Now it's packed houses, Wembley and beating Premier League teams on the telly. And get a load of the bomber display. Not a Co-op tarpaulin in sight. Well played.

Imps post Cowleys

The Cowleys have obviously worked wonders. However, they missed a golden chance to kick us into the Humber in September. Considering they outthunk Paul Hurst's Town twice in a month at BP, overcoming Sladeball should have been a mere bagatelle. The fan output hasn't got much better either. If you can't come up with a wittier quip than we have ourselves, you lose. Tommy of the Town's Bundle Park trumps Blunder Park. The Cods? Check the name at the top of this page. It hurts when you lose derby games only because it pleases them, the other lot's numpties, so much. I know we have numpties too but they're our numpties.

Depending on your age anyway, this match may not even be considered a derby or the bitter grudge game the Echo would like you to think. A grudge game for me is Hull, Leeds or Wednesday and that tells you my vintage. I just want a win and defeats for everyone else within an asses roar of us in the table so I can stay off the hard stuff on a Saturday for the first time in months.

Enough. There's a feeling in some corners of CA towers that some good writing gets a too short a shelf life as a diary. This is a tough pill when you consider the risk taken writing it at work and the effort to conceal it as a unix shell script or spreadsheet formula. To address this, may I point you to a couple of wonderful Retro Diary entries, one for our last visit to Sincil Bank and another because it's about time you read again his goldilocks GTFC diary.