Cod Almighty | Diary

The Exploding Plastic Inevitable

18 January 2023

And one thought crystallizes like an icy blast. I'm never going back, the past is in the past!

It's Wednesday. We're halfway through the week, halfway through the wicked window of transferrable woe and halfway down the stairs of this season as all sorts of funny thoughts run round your Deviant Diarist's head.

Are you still stuck on your funky moped going round and round the magic roundabout bemoaning, bewailing the bedlam in Swindon? Listen lads, do you still think we can still do this? We counted them all out, and we counted them all in. One, two, three, four, five, Max was working overtime. Let's clutch at straws! You better watch out, you better not cry, the donkeys of Harrogate are coming to town so we innocents can all sleep safely.

Yes, yes, but what does it all mean? Can you work it out? Can we work it out? Mr Snippy can get it wrong and you can still think that it'll be alright in the end.
Everything will be all right in the end, and it if isn't all right it isn't the end. Isn't that the way the fortune cookie crumbles?

Yes, yes, but is there anything going on, anywhere? Nope, not a Blundell Park, it's closed for track maintenance today. Distant voices, still lives. An oasis of nothingness between two games of football. It's only how life used to be, you know.

Where are we now? It's still Wednesday, the dog day that it isn't really anywhere, so let's go somewhere else instead. Let's go on a magic carpet ride to see the stars. Or just switch the telly on. And the lights all went out in Wolverhampton. Well, Wolverhampton is one place I have seen Town win. And Luton! Oh, and Luton. Wipe the tears from your eyes for it's Luton bloody Luton in round four.

Don't get excited, save your breath, cool it. Kenilworth Road: you fill me with inertia.

You might have heard his footsteps echo softly in the distance through the canyons of your mind. You might have even called his name. Jordan Maguire-Drew, that Dominic Vose for the tik-tok generation, has left the building, there are his footprints right there. The elusive butterfly has officially buggered off to Yeovil Town, and there's a look of terminal shock in the eyes of the needy and the nerdy as rumours brew of the Wolds Panther buying a scotch egg or two in Louth. Rumours, just noise. Put your feet up, have a snooze and just wait for Saturday.

Saturday. There's always another Saturday. Everything in between is just wasting time.