Cod Almighty | Diary

Skipping the monkey

28 May 2020

Hello again. This is BOTB Diary ("Well off!" – John Tondeur) reporting from the centre of this pointless, soul-sucking madness that somehow seems to have become accepted as normal life.

Any football? Well, ex-GTFC star Elliot Whitehouse has been punished for calling a Northampton player a "pikey". Not very nice. It may be untoward of me to say that's at the lower end of the racism ladder, but it is still on the ladder, so fair enough. Luckily I'm not under anyone's jurisdiction so I'm free to say that their number five, Charlie Goode, was the most irritating, dislikeable, infuriating cockwomble I’ve ever seen on a football pitch– and I've seen Richard Brodie play.

John Fenty says the new Freeman Street stadium will be delivered in three to five years. He must be using DHL.

Actually, he said that in February, but it has taken me three months to think of that joke. Lockdown diaries aren't pretty, folks. Shall I mention the ragged and rotten return of the premiership? Shall I? No.

So, the retained list. In seasons gone by this is a fascinating moment and a subject of much debate. This year it almost seems like watching an old match on video. Oh yes, I remember that team. I remember those players. Bye, Jake Hessenthaler. I liked you. Bye, Ahkeem Rose – I thought you had potential. Bye, Jordan Cook, you scored some great goals. Bye, Harry Cardwell.

My last, heavily coronavirus-slanted diary didn’t go down well with some. May I recommend this article by the amazing Alistair Haimes whose glorious Twitter feed has illuminated the situation beautifully. If you don't agree with something he says, you can contact him on Twitter, and he'll explain patiently why you're wrong. Don't contact me. His brain is twice the size of mine. Go directly to the organ grinder and skip the monkey, as Peter Gabriel once sang. Or was it Sledgehammer the Monkey? That can't be right. He'd never do that.

It doesn't really matter what he sang though, does it? Whatever we say or do has become irrelevant. We're stuck in La La Land. In this diary, many weeks ago, I said you couldn't just stop the world. Turns out I was right. Who'd have thunk it, eh?

Bring on Jim Morrison. Time to cut the cow in half.