Cod Almighty | Diary

Fentycon? Fentycan!

2 July 2018

Hello. I'm Deviant Diary and I've been clean since I had a shower this morning.

It's July and you can feel the force, the momentum of mass hysteria at the exciting possibilities of a better future. Destiny is calling out our name in the winds of change; oh the sweet tasty tang of tomorrow is on the tip of our tongues.

Yes, it's coming home. It's coming home. Football is coming home. The first pre-season friendly is only five days away. Elsewhere in the entertainment world we're saying ta-ta to the tantrums and tiaras of gazillionaire gloaters and ephemeral floaters. Sometimes it's nice to see alpha males get in touch with their inner child: red-eyed Ramos, roaring Ronaldo and poor old Messi's muttering and stuttering. There's only another couple of weeks of this fish-tank football left and then we can get down to Proper Football for Proper Fans in Proper Places. And Nailsworth.

Clap. Clap. Clap-clap-clap-clap. Fish!

I read a book once. Green it was. And halfway through a character from our deep, deep fishing past emerged as the villain for not squad rotating. If nothing else the quadrennial World Cup of That Football of Theirs allows us to remind ourselves that "one of our own" once ruled the world. Yep, old Arthur Drewry: former head of the Football League, the International Selection Committee of the FA and FIFA for five years in the fifties before they finally said "not now Arthur". Arty, Arty, Arty, if only you'd given the lads a rest for the USA game in 1950, we'd have won every World Cup since.

Mmmm, the momentum of mass hysteria at the exciting possibilities of a better future... If a fish merchant from Grimsby could rule the footballing world, why can't a modern-day fridge magnet? Infantino out, Fenty for FIFA!

Well, if the Russian rhinoceroses can reach the quarter-finals anything is possible. And remember the iron rule of management – promote your problems.

Hasn't it been lovely listening to the silence of the spam. Carry on Top Con John, leave St Michael, the patron saint of Mariners, to do the speakings and doings. He's so local now he goes down Meggies at the weekends watching the wheels on the tanks go round and round. Yeah, that's what happened at the weekend. St Michael looked up and saw a disciplined display of tactical fluidity within a rigid structure that entertained the watching crowds. Watch out for JJ Hooper looping the loop while trailing blue smoke from his ankles sometime during the first half against Cleethorpes Town.

Some more things will happen later on in the week and your dream team of diarists will feast on those facts. Me? I'm going to feast on a Feast. Now, where's Aimé Jacquet's Filofax got to?