Cod Almighty | Diary

Shearer was a punk rocker

20 April 2021

Sun is shinin' in the sky but there's a cloud in sight – here comes your emergency loan cover Deviant Diary after a long lay-off for unspecified reasons. Our high-priced lawyers remind us that it is corporate policy not to comment upon rumours that several epithets were thrown at Bottom of the Barrel Diary over croissants and coffee at the morning wellness session, where yoghurt after yoga in the yurt is mandatory.

Ah, self-referencing distraction tactics get you through 70 words on a slow news day.

And here come Morecambe, our perennial nemesis. If you still believe in magic then these are the numbers for you - five games, seven points and eight goals. Very challenging, barely achievable, and a lot of dead ducks have to line up down in Essex for the rabbit to be pulled out of Hurst's Hat of Hope. This really should be a Homburg, which, in a survey of the canyons of my mind, is Procul Harem's third best song ever.

The Shrimpers bossman claims he knows what our strengths are; hopefully he's as clued down and bogged down in lazy clichéd assumptions as the last few moaners and groaners and fears the imaginary long ball, long throw tactics. Yeah, that famous long throw, who can forget it. We did one in 1986.

Town go better with Coke, who we hope is back and not absent with a hurty back. Let us pray that the healing hands of Dave Moore have worked miracles.

It's time for some adult football talk about the big things.

Nothin' in our pockets, nowhere to go, lookin' for a handout, but no one wants to know – yes, football's living in hope (living in hope), but our multilingual business "friends" have packed their bags and fled into the starlit uplands of Uranus.

In their dreams they have a plan: if they got themselves a wealthy bank to provide leveraged capital to facilitate a multimedia partnership via a Special Acquisition Company domiciled in a low tax regime, they'd fool around with football and wouldn't have to play Legia Warsaw.

The long and the short and the tall story here is that it's franchise football. We already have our own franchise and we're about to be quite happy with that thank you very much.

Money, money, money, it's all about money and it's quite funny watching the wheels falling off the oligarchs' opulent omnibus. You can relax - on both sides of the tracks - maniacs don't blow holes in cash cows by remote control. And everyone has recourse to the law to expose the flaws.

It's merely petty politics in the ivory towers. The dirty dozen think themselves trailblazers against the status quo, smashing down the walls of complacency. Yeah they're punk rock and UEFA are middle-aged men with perms and a penchant for soft rock and you know where that leads to – Level 42 and Shalamar. They know what they want and they know how to get it, they want to destroy the passers-by.

Have a dibbly-dobble at the eloquent Thunderant to bring you back down to our earth.

Remember, free enterprise must be free to set up cartels to protect their interests.
All we have is ridicule and scorn and we should use them unsparingly, incessantly and with intensity. Never give these suckers even a break. Sometimes there is a tipping point that breaks the camel's haystack and the walls come tumbling down.
And I am talking about Morecambe's defence.

There it is: Town can make us feel good, let's make it a night to remember.