Cod Almighty | Diary
If I go, you go, Hugo A Go-Go
14 May 2021
BOTB Diary writes: My doom-mongering diary last week was wrong, and I humbly apologise. JSF (Con) has apparently left the building.
In the style of Skeletor, Ming the Merciless or Hugo A Go-Go, our villain has disappeared off the right-hand side of the screen waving his fist, stomping his feet and blaming everybody but himself for the failure of his evil masterplan. Rumours abound that he has bought one of the forts in the Humber and put an advert in the Telewag for henchmen, who will be forced to wear black and white stripy jumpsuits and have identical Russell Slade haircuts. JSF’s sartorial style will not change however, as he believes he has been rocking the Criminal Minormind look for some time now. Expect to see him taking over your screens soon, sitting in a revolving chair and stroking a small white furry Philip Day on his lap.
Despite relegation, the disappearance of the Incompetent One seems to have engendered a sense of positivity around the place, with trust membership booming and optimism for the season ahead as close to rampant as we will ever get. Utterly failing to catch the mood of the public, I have decided to write about some of the awful things about non-League you may have forgotten from last time.
1. Time-wasting
So, Town have kicked off, and as usual it has gone into the Lower Stones. Throw-in to Dover. They can't seem to decide who is going to take it. The full-back is going over. No, he's stopped to answer his phone. Here comes the goalie! No, he was just going over to ask the full-back who on earth was calling him during a match. What about that midfielder? No, he is waving to the bench for a new shin- pad. Now the whole Dover team is stopping for a drinks break in the stifling 11 degree heat. For goodness' sake. What time is it?
3.07.
Sigh.
2. Kits that reek of amateurism
"Daddy, has someone thrown eleven pieces of battenburg cake onto the pitch?"
"No son. That's Wealdstone."
3. Unfindable away grounds
"Excuse me, mate, do you know where the King's Lynn ground is?"
"No, sorry, I've only lived here 20 years. Have we got a football ground? Have we got a team? Well, blow me. I'm a Man Utd fan. Or used to be. Man City. For now."
4. Away grounds on industrial estates
"Yes, mate, you want to be on the Councillor Clive Meringue Industrial Estate. If you can find Estate Road 5 – it's between Estate Road 4 and Estate Road 6 – the ground is there. Oh no, hang on, I'm thinking of the Dulux Paint Distribution Centre. No idea where the ground is. I've only lived here 20 years. I'm a Liverpool City fan myself."
5. Shit refs
Who would have thought it possible that a referee could be worse than Declan Bourne or David Rock? Compared to the referees you get in non-League, these two partially sighted whistle-botherers are minor gods of officialdom. Luckily, last time we were in the Limbo League some of the most incompetent decisions went in our favour, because we are one of the bigger clubs. I've noticed over the years that most refs favour the bigger clubs. Am I the only one who has noticed that? Oh, I see. You all have.
6. The FA F*****k Trophy
Well, aren't we all looking forward to the Notts County game on Saturday? But, no, it's not on. We drew with Bakewell Trinity in the FA F*****g Trophy last Saturday, and we now have to replay them endlessly on every Saturday until the bitter earth utters it's last desperate, desolate cry. Booked a week in Torquay to coincide with the away match? Tough. It's the fifth FA F*****g Trophy replay against F*****g Bakewell Trinity. All you fans can just f*** off. All we care about in these parts is the FA F*****g Trophy, the only F*****g Trophy on earth you wouldn't put in your cabinet even if you won the f*****g thing because people would take the f*****g piss.
Don't get me started.
7. Results in the newspaper being as good as invisible
Go below division two. Then the Italian leagues. Then the Spanish leagues. Then the Andorran leagues. Then the Crufts results. Then the legally-ordered apology to Jeremy Corbyn for lying about him in every edition since 2017. Then the late-night chemists. There we are, look! Go on, use a magnifying glass.
"FA F*****g Trophy. Grimsby Town 0, Bakewell Trinity 0."
And I've not even mentioned the bizarrely late start to the season, losing to part-time bakery-cleaning operatives, incoming players having show-reels shot on recreation grounds or being two divisions below pissing Cheltenham.
Still. Happy days, eh? UTM!