Cod Almighty | Diary

Here comes midweek! I'm so excited I can hardly speak!

5 October 2022

It's a bit windy out there, is it not?

BOTB diary here, normally the purveyor of irrelevant rot on a Friday, today shifted to a wet Wednesday for administrative reasons. How are you, Wednesday people?

Do you know, it was an embarrassingly long time before I realised that the phrase 'happy hump day' had no beastly sexual connotation but was simply to do with heading metaphorically downwards into the weekend rather than upwards into the working week. Incidentally, as an avid young reader it took me ages to discover that the word 'albeit' and the phrase 'all be it' were pretty much one and the same. I wonder what other misconceptions I am harbouring, awaiting the illumination of the inevitable light bulb moment?

I was also wondering why I still felt a slight sense of dissatisfaction and unease vis-a-vis the Mariners despite the undoubtedly solid start we have made and a series of excellent away performances. Then I realised, currently being unable to travel too much due to personal reasons, how many Town triumphs have been away from the Park. Indeed, as a homeboy, the last time I personally witnessed a Grimsby Town league victory was on April 23rd thanks to a last minute penalty from Abraham against the Torquemada Seagulls, as Torquay should really be known.

So, for me, it has been nearly half a year since that fuzzy-inside, satisfying exit from the ground with a three point haul that is the take-home pay of a football supporter. No wonder there's a profound sense of dissatisfaction gnawing at my very soul, haunting me and keeping me apart from the sweet restorative elixir of sleep. Or that could be digestive issues. Pizza last night. Fat bastard.

I was chatting to Retro Diary the other day – I have no choice, since he's my boss – and he told me that in the unlikely event of him ever being asked onto Room 101 the first thing he would put in there would be men dancing. This is inarguably the worst thing in the world, (apart from possibly those balls of blue plastic mossy crap that people inexplicably hang outside their houses) and I agree completely. But I wondered – if there was a football-specific version of Room 101, which sickening soccer shittiness would be banished by footy fans in general? Time wasting would certainly be up there, I reckon, as would feigning injury. Twelve-year old football 'hooligans' are obviously nauseating, though the grown-up versions are perhaps even more so. Bung 'em all in there. Throw away the key, and bring back Alan Birch. 

A personal thing for me would be the cheering of pitch invaders. Doubtless to some this makes me a humourless blob who needs to re-evaluate his attitude towards the joyfully anarchic wildness and bawdiness of our short lives, but nuts to them. I cannot stand the attention-seeking idiots. I'm here to watch a football match, not a trainee garage mechanic called Kayne waving his shirt above his head and delaying the scintillating lower league football action. Streakers are even worse. Luckily I haven't seen one for a long time but if the Tories decided to introduce the death penalty for them I'd hang a blue rosette outside my door and start kicking poor people. That's how strongly I feel about this.

Afore I go, a quick mention to veteran local football legend Micky 'Barrettelli' Barrett. I have nothing to say about him really, other than he is a good guy and I like his nickname. That's enough to get into a Wednesday diary. The entrance qualifications for a Friday are far more stringent, but Wednesday? Anything goes on a Wednesday.

I can't bring myself to say "happy hump day" but happy humping! What? Oh, god. Sorry.