Cod Almighty | Match Stats

Wednesday 26 December 2018

Division 4

Port Vale 0

Grimsby Town 1 Thomas (62)

Attendance: 5129 (425 away fans)

The wheels on the bus go round and round and Harry and Hess continue to astound with their exuberance and energy; the force that doesn't stop. They simply don't stop 'til they get enough.

Facts matter to St Michael, so he matter-of-factly recited some matters of fact: "We scored a fantastic goal which I think is worthy of winning any game. And the lads really put their bodies on the line and made some unbelievable blocks to preserve our clean sheet."

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It's traditional to have an Aspen whine at Christmas, as nithering Neil overlooked his part in their downfall: "To be standing here talking about losing the game is bitterly disappointing. We were having a good spell and we got caught with a sucker punch, but on another day the shot wouldn't have gone in."

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Got in the way, did enough, picked a pocket or two and stole the presents from under the tree.

The Hess bestrode the first half with auto-destructive dominance, aided by Little Harry's hassling, but the second half was an old-fashioned siege where other positive negatives were required. Troubling waves were soothed by the oil pourers at the back. It was all about our base – and Poor Vale's unerring ability to clear the ball for us.

Alas Town are weakening by the hour, as limbs fall off and bones shake through overuse, but the spirit was strong enough to see them amble past the ghosts of Port Vales past, present and future.

Don't go overboard. We stole their Christmas because they left the lights on and the windows open and were a little tipsy. Town turned up and had a turkey trot around Tunstall.

What a hogwashing horror show of mid-table Bananaramas they were in the first half. An utterly depressing pub team of pinballers bumbling big balls to two big blokes. They simply proved Boyle's Law, for as Town held the temperature constant, the pressure they mounted and volume of gas generated by Neil Aspin had an inverse relationship.

Perhaps McQuigley might grow up to be a man, but that man will be Fat Matt Rhead. An awful waste of their time, but not ours. They kept him on far too long. Fine by us.

Ah, but let us throw some cheer their way, for when Whitfield arrived so did some proper football and an element of jeopardy. That just allowed them to showcase their soccerball skills: they succeeded in avoiding scoring.

With a fair wind this lot would be an outside bet for the play-offs. In the National League. They'll manage to stay up, but only through the kindness of strangers.

Pottering around with cold but happy feet.

Mr B Toner (Lancs)

Come on, get happy at this member of the cartridge family we won't wish to replace. He could have booked McQuiqley for a comedy dive, he could have given them a penalty for Whitmore's wet wipe, but he did neither, choosing to make sensible non-decisions.

Mr Toner was not a homer: he was reet good value for 7.442.

Lollipops, lollipops, oh lolli-lolli-lolli, lollipops and Thomas the Tank Engine pops up to pop it in.

In a word: mudlarks