Cod Almighty | Diary

Get your hair cut

28 June 2023

You! Yes you. You behind the bike sheds, stand still laddie!

The boys are back in the school of science and through the magic of moving pictures your Deviant Diary has had his eagerly awaited first glimpse of the next crop of Hurst's heroes and zeroes. Who will be the next permanently crocked flying winger? Who will be the slightly underwhelming midfield muffler? Who's that standing in the shadows? Who's that girl? Who are you?

Why, it's Broadway Danny Rose eating his coco pops and look over there! Abu Eisa juggling his balls near the very private Pyke. If anyone picks up a ball then they're the keeper, that's how it works these days, doesn't it?

We're still in June, so keep your benny or bucket hat on (season to taste). Remember, goalkeepers do grow on trees. With a little luck we will pluck a plum, not a worm-riddled and cankered Anthony Williams from the tree of life. We've nothing to worry about, we've got a computer, it's been plugged in and the dial-up works!

And the returning heroes of many an hour or two last season? They've let their hair grow. So florid and bouffant are Ringo's flowing locks that he's increased his drag factor by at least 6%. The numbers, like the granola in the food bar, have been crunched. It's a fact. Galloping Glennon now has the profile of a Citroen 2CV. Ah, the drag factor, no not one of those BBC3 shows that makes Colonel Blimp explode, but the appliance of science, the accretion of marginal gains.

In olden days the force that acts parallel to and in the same direction as the airflow was the Lower Smiths/Findus/Stones in full verbal pursuit of timorous wingers and Scott McGarvey. That was then, this is now – we have different cutting edges these days. Down in the airless basement, shoeless Joe Hutchinson and his effervescent elves are working night and day to make a dream come true. Data, we're driven by you.

One day soon the computer will say yes and we can all stop worrying about nothing.

While we wait for the next Mr Gloverman to pop into our lives, what else can we do to distract ourselves from the madness of modern life out there? You know, you and me, the sane and rational in the cesspit of fear and loathing, really should have paid more attention to politics, and not let the reckless and the feckless, the ruthless and the toothless, run and ruin things. And no, that wasn't the obligatory heritage dig at the former Fridge Magnate. He's long gone John with his hoochie coochie men following him down the road. That was then, this is now.

Well, we could divert ourselves with the tittle-tattle of content-filling speculation, or wheel out that old stand-by of determining your true and devout Grimsbyness by the number of times you shake your salt on your chips. Well, you could but then you might forget to sign up for your Season TICKET before the early bird discount ends.

Or we could give you another Only Connect wall. Do you want some? We've got 'em by the re-usable biodegradable bagful behind the sofa, but this week we've also decided to extend our hands across the ocean and indulge in some cross fertilisation and Mariner media synergies.

In a world exclusive we've given you a whole bunch of words from young Mike McMahon, straight outta the DN35 podcast. Next week? Words and numbers. We're breaking you back in gently. After all we're all getting old. What a drag it is as summer rolls on.