Cod Almighty | Diary

Do you want some?

19 December 2022

How horrible, fantastic, incredible it was we should be wasting our time on the last Sunday before Christmas because of a quarrel in a far-away country, between people of whom we care nothing.

So what. Argentina are basically Bromley with Latin knobs on.

You're not here for the jeers, the colour and noise of distant drums, you want life in good old-fashioned black and white, and your ever-Deviant Diary has been scanning horizons and peeking through the advent calendar windows for the latest blue sky thinking down Blundell Park way.

The ice glowed white on Field Mill that night with not a footprint to be seen, much to the ire of the drama queens. It'll take a stud! With a grim inevitability Town's match at Mansfield was called off on Friday afternoon as the pitch was frozen solid, solid as rock. And with no proper football Happy-Happy Hursty had head space to deal with some housekeeping as Town tackle the cost of living in the fourth tier. They can definitely afford a new photocopier now after cash shavings from the bloated squadery.

Whatcha talkin' 'bout, Willis?

You might wake up some mornin' to the sound of something moving past your window in the wind. Ah, that'd be Jordan Maguire-Drew, the elusive butterfly. He's gone, but not quite yet, for JMD has buggered off to Yeovil Town forever, for a bit, temporarily or permanently depending on which part of which sentence of which official communique from which club you wish to believe at any particular point.

If you remember something there that glided past you followed close by heavy breathin' that'd be the elusive butterfly of yesteryear. Good old Maximum Wright is on the brink of the cusp of possibly being almost fit enough to play, just in time for Harrogate's game against Grimsby on Boxing Day. Yeah, that game. Into the Vale of York will drive the six hundred, but someone had blundered.

The Officially Newly Superb Club (ONSC ©) have sincerely apologised most sincerely for the Harrogate ticket fiasco, where early risers – by definition the most loyal and committed - got stuck in a Kafkaesque electronic Escher painting and will be staying home for the Christmas game. Is saying sorry enough? It's a start, that's all. Whatcha gonna do about it?

Ah, darn it, stop being so reasonable. It was so much easier to write diaries in the reign of the Fridge Magnet. Hey, hang on, what about those still in the ticket queue? These changes just punt the start time forward two hours so a member of staff can wake up and watch the wheels go round and round. The basic, underlying system remains in place – a free-for-all. The club sell away tickets and they have a record of those sales. It shouldn't be hard to build in a reward for long-term loyalty.

Oh yeah, anyone going fancy doing a match report?

The shirt fetishists who live among us are in meltdown as Town have released a retro kit (but sew in your own sexy Adidas stripes). No news yet whether they've commissioned an inflatable Trevor Whymark in time for the opening of the transfer window.

And with no proper football there's head space to deal with some internal housekeeping as we set out on an emotional rescue. He's too deep in, he can't get out! Puzzled by BOTB's bizarre broadbrush broadsheet bashings? The standards committee launched an investigation and found that our dear Diarist has been drawing broad conclusions from a suspiciously small sample size. He's perused The Observer and is still annoyed after reading his parents' copy of The Times in 1997.

Hey, it's football; it's physical, rarely logical. What have facts got to do, go to do with it?