Cod Almighty | Match Report

by Tony Butcher

28 September 2016

Grimsby Town 1 Newpoort County 0

A barmy balmy night under a Kubrickian salmon skyfall with thirty nine miserabilists lost in the Osmond emptiness. Is there anybody out there?

Town lined up in a 4-4-2 formation as follows: McKeown, Davies, Collins, Pearson, Andrew, Chambers, Summerfield, Comley, Vose, Bogle and Jackson. The substitutes were Henderson, Boyce, Disley, Berrett, Tombola, Tuton and Vernon. Same as Saturday then.

Porkin has festered in the south Walian sunshine, growing yet another beergut. He wobbles like a waterbed.

First half: Muggers

The poor Newts kicked off straight into the furthermost parts of the lower Frozen Horsebeer Stand. Ah, football, but not as we know it.

Bargeball, rollerball, rugby and wrestling, Porkin the epicentre of everything as nothing happened. Can't someone deconstruct their old nag? Chucks and chocks, it's not a shock that this is shockingly poor. Newport? Not newly poor.

Are we here? Are we moving? Ricochets and handbags and Vose deflected onto the outer side of the angle of post and bar. Ooh. Yeah, really. Ooh.

A giant Toblerone and Andrew flickered into the centre. Jackson, alone again, naturally, the goal agape, naturally, the crowd aghast as he shinkled a million miles wide.

Chucks and much mucking about from the Porkboy mafia. Headers, shots, things, not really, possibly, so what, who cares? We saw this game every two weeks last year. Newport are just practising for their future

What's this? Omar marking Parkin? It rhymes and happened several times. Bogle v the beeriest belly in football.

A-ha, precision from Andrew, Vosian drifting and Day marvellously sprawled low and left to parry the cute curler. Moments that almost happened, now and again.

And they had a header. McKeown caught it on the line. And they had a header. McKeown caught it on the line. What again? Yes, again and again and again and again.

And again. And again.

What happened again? I'm sorry – I've lost the will to live. Whatever it was, it wasn't football.

Second half: Chuggers

Neither team made any changes at half time.

Hump, head, huge hurl, handbags and a corner. Hump, head, huge hurl, handbags and a corner. Fifteen minutes. Fifteen Earth minutes. Fifteen deathly minutes of humps and heads and huge hurls and handbags and Newportian corners. On and on and on and on and Porkin assaulted Jamie Mack inside the net.

Have I lost an hour of my life somewhere?

The linesman was nodding and the referee pointing towards the penalty spot. For something no-one saw and no-one appealed for. How quaint

Dibbling and dobbling down the left and Vose lobbed loopily in the centre of the penalty area. Omar arose, caressed the ball on his chest, allowed it to roll down his ego and swizzled a slap towards the bottom left corner. Day brilliantly flew low and flipped away. Moments, here and there.

Another moment, almost here, not quite there.

Possession and passing, movement and momentum and Summerfield coiled agin the outside of the left upright. Omar had shots! Omar had shots that don't amount to a hill of beans. Someone get his cape out.

Hump, head, huge hurl, handbags and a corner. Hump, head, huge hurl, handbags and a corner.

Porkin sneaked free at the near post and McKeown magnificently tipped over from under the bar. How can that enormous, monstrous carbuncle sneak free of anything?

Ooh, did I tell you Tombola came on for Chambers? I really should have, you know. Tombola perky pested with vim and verve eating their left back and lifting the curtain to reveal that the Ambermen were just a bunch of sad old men wearing nylon.

I could have told you Tuton replaced Jackson, but I didn't, did I. Tuton ran around in search of the football, and throw-ins emerged.

But time was ending.

With a minute or so left Vose way, way overhit a pass into the deepest corner twixt Pontoon and Main Stand. Tombola bowled after the waste of time and kept it in play, bamboozled the full-back, hared off along the bye-line into the area, and pokey-crossed on to the near post. An Amberite swished away and to the consternation of the nation, the linesman was nodding and the referee pointing towards the penalty spot. For something no-one saw and no-one appealed for. How quaint.

Bogle posed ramrod-straight and walloped the ball mid-height and well 'ard into the left side as Day plunged lower and left.

More humps and dumps and Porkin steered a free header well wide from another huge hurler.

Four minutes were added. Boyce replaced Vose and our egg boiled. Hard cheese Newport.

Same as Saturday. A great game to watch on Ceefax: 1-0, Bogle (pen) and ruddy awful mugball.