Cod Almighty | Match Report

by Tony Butcher

9 February 2025

A deeply grey day of disappearing raindrops and dropping winds. It's cold, but not as we knew it yesterday. 

Town lined up a higgledy-piggledy 3ish-5ish-2 formation as follows: Wright, Rodgers, Tharme, McJannet, Svanthorsson, Green, McEachran, Khouri, Hume, Rose and Obikwu. The substitutes were Auton, Warren, Thompson, Luker, Burns, Vernam and Barrington. Hume was free to stand where he usually stands, neither up nor down, with Svanthorsson coming back occasionally to meet Mr Rodgers in the vacant right-back position

Hey Justin Spiderlegs, they say it's your birthday! I'm glad it's your birthday, happy birthday to you. We would like you to dance through the Cumbrian cardigans and please take a cha-cha-cha-chance when it arrives.

The Cardigans of Carlisle? Have you seen their kit? The sort that Cissie Braithwaite and Ada Shufflebotham would definitely peer over their garden walls and disapprove of. Ah, the days when drag was a gentle source of saucy postcard humour. "We went to Greece last year" "Did you have the shish kebabs?" "From the moment we arrived."

Poor old Carlisle, where are they? Rock bottom. Tragedies? They've had 'em. The remedy? Rub it out and start it again with Mark Hughes? Good luck. Between you and me, I can honestly say that things can only get better. I guess that's why they call them The Blues.

We're gonna have a good time.

1st half – A bit of a drip
Town kicked off towards the 551 Cumbrians in the Osmond. They sold 552 tickets. Where is the missing person? There must be a three-part podcast in that.

Foul throw! No the other way, fool!

A little bit of Mambo No. 5 with Khouri on the side as stripes jump up and down and move it all around. Svanthorsson scrimpled across the face of the penalty area and Obikwu swivel-spun through a thicket straight to the startled keeper. Doors opened, doors shut in a gentle Breeze.

Moving, hardly grooving, some sad Bluesmen riffing to themselves in the corner. Change the chord daddio. Duck Farm ducked and deflected a doozie for a corner. Embleton drooped a dripper from their right as heads arose and missed, the ball sailing on, sailing in off the hand-thighs of Rose.

You could hear a pin drop. A pin did drop. Has the penny dropped? The ball certainly plopped, as did Wearne, trundling and bundling through a striped menagerie in a ménage à trois, remembering far too late to fall after feeling the hand of history on his shoulder.

There's only one team crumbling here. Hume displaced by ambition, a hole to fill, a hole filled by a blue short for a blue cross on a blue day, passing through the centre of the world through Hugill's legs and away, away, away, they faded away as the extra body in middle coming up trumps.

Aimless balls and shameless falls. The computer isn't working! Have you tried turning it off and rebooting?

Ah-ha!

Hunting in packs, punting from the back and Spiderlegs spindled away in the silent shadow of the Frozen Horsebeer Stand. A shimmy, a shake and slap across the face of goal and the face of the farthest post. Triangulations and infiltrations, not quite excitations. A sweeping swoop across the Savannah, Svanthorsson chop-dropped onto Obikwu's chest. A spin-whack, a parry, Green ducked back, Breeze slathered, Khouri tapped in and many missed the flag a-fluttering sadly in the dark corner between two civilisations.

Metronomic Marinerdom ticking over, heading over. Green at a corner, Green at a free kick, free and easy, freely, firmly over. Gorgeous George smothered by blocks of blue, Svanthorsson diverted one time, then again, Svanthorsson draggling through soft socks. Rose tickled but took a touch too much and Breeze blocked. Moments of almostness withering in the lack of wind, Town an infrequent interloper. Blocks by socks, stop all the clocks!

McCarthur parked a pass through the corridor of uncertainty twixt centre-backs and the non-existent right-back. Hugill chased, Wright shuffled forward and feigned to kick but withdrew his leg at the last moment. Hugill, toe-ended the ball out of play and just couldn't stop himself falling over the leg that wasn't there. We turned to look, but the danger was gone as out came the yellow card…to Hugill for diving.

One minute was added and there is nothing to add to that.

A half where both teams huffled and puffled and danced around their handbags, but needed the other to score for them. Face facts Carlisle, we're just better than you at that.

2nd half – Falling apart at the seams
Neither team made any changes at half time. Let's give it a go for a full half this time, eh?

All right, oh, here we go again. Oh, that's it, you're doing it all right. Now we're getting vibrations all down to our feet. Carlisle's gonna lose control, Town just got a little bit of soul.

A jump to the left and Town escaped to the country. Alas a lack of pace as Rose was forever behind Thomas the Tank Engine as the ball rolled across. A step to the right and the unmolested rocking Rodger wiffled a woeful cross to Breeze from the bye-line. A fine fellow felled under the Thawing Horsebeer Standers and Hume's whipper was bonked over the angle of post and bar by Special K.

In the midst of the maelstrom of Mariner movements McEachran's woeful pass and weedy tackle released the Crumblers from their inner turmoil. Harris slip-slided through the slightest of Town tackles and coiled against Wright's left post. The ball boinked back and Embleton's slap-hook was smother-blocked by the hand of cod. Ah, but which one? Rodgers or Wright? Some mysteries will never be solved.

And the Grimsby gifs keep on giving. A Hume shuffle, a Khouri surge and scrape into the centre. With Svanthorsson alone afar and beyond Obikwu gave us a twirl on the penalty spot and shot through and under Breeze.

Ah Gabe Breeze, makes us feel fine.

Upon this terrible turn of the tides of history Carlisle swapped one forgotten ex for another: Wearne for Robson. If you must know Patchy Patching was replaced by another little drummer boy, Bev Bevan. We hardly noticed.

And what of our sad-eyed laddies from near the lowlands of Scotland? Embleton's Vernamesque drooper caused no eyelids to bat but they had moments of almostness snuffed out by Khouri and Khouri alone, determined they would not pass the halfway line. Oh, and the ref. A magnificent last man, last ditch swipe from Evan almighty and a professional dredge that drew a yellow card and a halt to a blue rampage on our right.

There is no more for they are no more.

A cross, Green headed over. A cross, Green ploppered into the hands of Breeze. Green infiltrated to the bye-line and pulled back a precision pass into the centre. I won't say it again Justin, get up, get up, get out your lazy legs. A sweeping surge and Green bundle-poked wide. McEachran free but faffing and a series of short corners that got shorter and shorter.

Hume coiled a pass, Rose roamed around the keeper, and rolled the ball in. Linesmen, what are they good for? With ten minutes left McJannett hobbled off, and on came Bunny Warren. At left centre-back. Sometimes it is appropriate to panic in the streets of Humberside. Fortunately Town were playing the ailing, flailing, failing Cumbrians who couldn't stop their ailing, flailing and securing their continuing failure.

Another Town chance fluffed with an underpowered snuffle muffling off blue shins for a corner. Hume looked up and espied the remarkably unmarked Svanthorsson lurking alone on the bye-line. The blond bobber waited for Lavelle's blue boot, shuffled his soft shoes and was last seen a-kissing the turf, arms akimbo. A peep, a point and a penalty given. Now, choose which eye to look through the looking glass – did Jason dive over a divot or topple over the turf? I think we can all agree he was simply slain by a stray sod?

Breeze adjusted his hairnet, Rose puffed his cheeks and planted the penalty down the centre right as their custardian plunged left. And Carlisle was plunged further into the slough of despond.

Vernam replaced Obikwu and the game descended into a series of missed moments as Town continually broke into the increasing voids. Vernam coiled into the waiting hands of Breezeboy. Vernam curled, Breezey flopped out and Rose bopped back for Breeze to block. 

Barrington and Thompson replaced Khouri and Green with a couple of minutes left and Town continued with wave after wave of wafty nearlyness.

Six minutes were added with Town racing off into the corners, succeeding only in failing to waste time. A hump and dump and suddenly Svanthorsson was alone, the last man standing between bluesmen and Wright. Now that's what I call music – a brilliant one-touch spin off the toes of a hopeful hurtler sealed the deal.

And there we are, another non-draw. Draws, what are they good for?

Town made hard work of an easy game. But hard work got the win. What a weird season this is. I don't know where we’re going, I don't know what we need, but we’ll get to where we're gonna end up and that's alright by me.

One more point!