Cod Almighty | Diary

Er war ein Punker

1 September 2014

Did you know that Sam Hatton could have been a rock star, but he didn't have the money for a guitar? So that's why he's down in soldier field.

Hello there people of this world, this is Deviant Diary and it is time for you to stop all of your sobbing. It's time for you to laugh, instead of crying over split infinitives, split hairs and split trousers. I'm eating a chocolate cake, so what can possibly be wrong in this, the best of all possible worlds?

Oh, Town, of course. Saturday in Hampshire amid the municipal rose bushes and army dreamers. Was last weekend so long ago, was it all a dream? Perhaps someone should tell Lennie the Loincloth that you can't win the war with ego.

After messing about with dominant missing, a bout of clapping and shoulder-slapping saw Lennie with the shopsoiled reputation getting a red in the face through low-level sarcasm and stupidity; meanwhile, TMFKAS went all red in the face over the low-level officiating and obfuscating, then probably purple in the face in the dressing room over the plunder of Pearson’s blunder that made him wonder why we lost. That sentence was almost as long as the journey home, and just as satisfying. Neilson the newly slimline tonic, and reformed chubby charmer, smacked a cracker to offer the traditional few minutes of false hope.

And that was that. Don’t hold your breath this week: there’ll be no new signings. TMKFAS poured cold water over that in the post-match perambulation around Mr Whippy's wayward reffing (monochrome version). And in fashionable bandwagon-jumping cold water action, Everything But The Chairman Topcon John is offering himself up for a soaking in the name of charity. There’s too many punchlines to that, my dear Mozart.

Roll up, roll up, step right this way - there are still 400 tickets left for the 'refreshed' Lincoln game. I'm looking forward to pouring cold water over their promotion 'hopes'. Now that's refreshing.