Cod Almighty | Diary

He came in a coat and lied with his trousers on

30 November 2020

What keeps drawing us back to Town? It must be the Dickensian aspect.

So Maradona is a gonner; remember he won't be there when you cross the road. Will the official national mourning end before Mohsni's been scootered away from Cheapside? When he gets his funky moped on the road ain't no-one gonna tell him where to go.

Were you, like your ever Deviant Diary, wistful this winter weekend, where there was no dark or light, definitely no black or white, only shades of grey?

Yes, it's the traditional second round of the FA Cup feeling of what could have been but never is. Every time you turn on the TV these days there's a football match with at least one ex-Mariner trotting around.

Anthony Straker, UFO!

Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeere's Harry Cardwell, suddenly transformed into a "…quality player with deceptive pace" (Adam Virgo, BT bore). Or how about Dishy Dale Southwell's cucumber finishing down Pompey way? Oh, now think real low, as low as you can go. Word up in Brackley is it's an Ashley Chamber's cameo that wooed the world on Friday night.

Now there was a Town performance at Tranmere you could be proud of, Andy.

There once was a time when spotting an old Town player in any game, anywhere, was a rarity. Those salad days when the squad evolved naturally, like the three-toed sloth, are dead as the Tufty Club. As we know, the secret of our success has been the permanent revolution. Mashed potatoes are so inferior to Smash, and so much more expensive.

For every yin there is a yang. Creative Covid-busting comes at a price. You do realise that if Town register as a religion then Top Con John would be, officially, the Messiah?

Oh no, woe upon woe. Joe Bugner, Jon Pertwee, Les Gray, Alvin Stardust and now Dave Prowse. The curse of the green Cross Code strikes again. Only Keggy Keegal and Derek Griffiths remain from the classic line-up. A bit like a Tufty Club Paul and Ringo. Each day a little piece of our childhood dies. It makes you splink.

With the Grimsby Telegraph reduced to sentimentalising about some snow, why can't we wallow in the past? After all, with the current bunch of likely lads the only thing to look forward to is the past.

Right, to get me in the mood for some pre-Grecian dancing I'm off to listen to some super seventies West Coast rock from Mike Milligan and the Kitchen Brothers. Check out their difficult second album, The Butcher of Luverne.

The past can no more become the future than the future can become the past. Remember, Patrick Hoban's playing in the Europa League. We are truly through the looking glass.