Cod Almighty | Diary

Smash the wallygarchy!

15 July 2020

Remember, just a friendly wave each morning helps to make a better day. That is a friendly wave you're directing towards the North Bankers, isn't it? I can't lie to you about their chances of survival, and they don't have our sympathy.

Urr nurr.

But wouldn't it be nice to get on with our neighbours - let's make it very clear we've got no room for Donny Rovers in our pre-season schedule. We're aiming for the top drawer, not the bottom of the M180 barrel.

Where are we now? It's 15th July and on any given 15th July your bumptious, truly, truly bumptious Deviant Diary would have been purring at the second half demolition of Cleethorpes Town in the traditional curtain raiser to the season. And be thrilled by the surprise announcement of a drive-by friendly with a newly promoted Championship team within a charabanc ride of Cleethorpes. Yeah, Rotherham. It's always Rotherham.

We have nothing but our chain stores to keep us free of midsummer mischief and misery.

But stop! What's that sound? The thrum of distant fingers drumming nods and winks to us that some kind of football will return to Blundell Park before the office clock strikes 13. The Hollow One is contemplating rough diamonds to be found in the corner of some foreign fields.

"I love that he played so wonderfully well for a few games while I was in charge". Ah yes, he has a dream of replacing six game golden wonder Slim Charles Vernam with scraps from the rich kids' table and maybe returning to that trusty old Gamibian market as we are unlikely to be able to "build our brand in China" (©Lennie the Lawrence and his amazing dancing expense account). Huawei the lads indeed.

As the summer seeps away we're left with the weary and dreary detritus of drifters and grifters: local drunks up on the roof; Jose prowling mid-table like a man who really didn't want to go to his ex-wife's best friend's brother's barbeque; bad cheese dreams about Michael Owen's competence as a painter and decorator. And an unanswered local question: what colour is Top Con John's new Aston Martin? Is it too orangey for crows?

Let's leave the matter of toxic mask-ulinity for another day.

Locally sourced accidental celebrefans Bill "Brewdog" Brewster and Lloyd "Lloyd" Griffith popped up in a podcast rambling around perceived footballing injustices. Lloyd only really came up with the twenty years of hurt under Our Dear Leader. Well he is young. C'mon we all know our paths of glory were stymied by the invasion of Poland and that milk-snatching. If it wasn't for Thatcher and Hitler we'd have a homegrown squad of elite athletes laser focused on that magic 38 point mark. Typical Town, no ambition, not even in a feeble space-filling fantasy.

And finally, Cyril, our traditional summer dip into the Falmouth Packet reveals what Ken Bates is up to these days. So, if you give 'em a quick short, sharp, shock they won't do it again. Dig it?