Cod Almighty | Match Stats

Saturday 22 November 2025

Division 4

Swindon Town 2 Palmer (7), Bodin (13)

Grimsby Town 2 Green (22), Rose (41, pen)

Attendance: 8,087 (603 away fans)

McJannet was McJannet, and the old borrowed Zimmerman was a name in the frame for he did his job and got us through the night without too many frights, but let us prick the balloon of the Harveyphobes, for this year's fulcrum of fan ire was rather excellent. He defended. It is, after all, what you want your defenders to do. He did what it said on his tin hat.

Where the office boys and young mechanics can panic at the site of Rodgers, we say hooray for Harvey, for today he could and was not a dud.

Birthday boy would rather be blowing out candles than blowing steam, quietly seething about Town's constant re-gifting. You're supposed to receive, not give presents:

"We gifted them two goals from set pieces…first half, a gulf between the two teams, with us being the better team…half time stopped our momentum."

But all's well that ends well after a year of living dangerously:

"You've got to be quietly happy without being ecstatic, if you like…put it this way, I'm much happier this year than I were last year."

As Big D said in another time in another context, we will not talk about someone who does not deserve our time.

This is the world we live in and this is the hand we're given.

Dopey and dross for quarter of an hour, once they awoke from the usual Wiltshire wilt Town were the predominant power in the Little Gnome's land of make believe, always winding, always finding places to go.

Rodgers had a quiet stormer, McJannet was back on caretaking duties and Old Dickie O'D, the Zimmerman, was splendidly adequate after a quick spray of WD40. Turi was a calming presence, refusing to release a pass unless there was someone to pass to, whilst McEachran had a skittish game that meandered between his tramlines of faulty and fantasy. Fortunately, Swindon were so poor they were incapable of taking advantage of the flaking flanks, especially the left where huge holes appeared regularly.

Any and all distress was self-inflicted. Concentrate!

Yeah, overall, weighing up the pros and cons, the flimsy and the flam, Town were fine enough.

Is that it?

Utterly mundane, a stereotype of lower league battlers and bottlers who imploded when faced with footballers playing football. How on earth were they top of the league? All fur coats and no knickers on this showing, relying on big balls up to Oily Palmer, who, in his twilight years, is just an inflatable Matt Rhead but without the psychopathic studs and serial killer sharpened elbows.

They were playing on the break in the last hour, hoping for a lucky break or dreaming of a creamy curdling.

These ropey Robins were bland and bobbins and looked nothing more, nothing less than an annoying mid-table team who can occasionally trip up the play-off hopefuls.

Pull back the curtain! Swindon are nothing special, that's it.

Hey lads, did you enjoy the pub? We do want to rub it in to the gang of four, the boys who didn't back Town but did go back to a pub.

Mr O Yates

(Enter ex-Town clowns with spades)

The locals came bury him, but praise be for a sensible chap who broadly saw sense. Let me see…Alas poor culchies, joskins and joskers, we know him, you're off your trolley if you think this Ollie is a wally for he saw through most knavish tricks and turns.

Not too bad, all things considered: 7.663

A Rose by any old name always smells sweet and hits the sweet penalty spot.

In a word: resolution