Cod Almighty | Article

by Alistair Wilkinson

9 February 2017

Our poet-in-residence has mainly been away from home since Russell Slade. But, Al says, "Recent performances have left me muddled so thought I'd try and see if I could make sense of it by mixing it up with a few rhymes"

Tested and rested, always so close to being bested.
The old boys have been chucked like toys. From a
pram? From the new man, the experimenter, the
football Dementor. We’re sitting and watching like
Rowling’s editor. Too complicated! A wannabe
tactical implementer. We had it simple like a regular
Potter, now it’s all weird like a three-course trotter.
Pig’s ear? Could be; it’s just not clear!

Working on mice and messing with monkeys, treating
us all like ticket-paying flunkies. An injection here, a
dose of something there, a failure to care, a prediction
it’s gonna be fair. Resulting data is inconclusive,
analysis is not conducive. Sit back, relax, it’ll all be
okay. Just listen to what the man will say. Blind us
with smiles, deafen us with wiles. We hear what
we wanna hear, but it’s just not clear!

We were living the dream, a happy team, a gang of
heroes bubble-wrapped in BP and out on our travels
with GTFC. I suppose we were like DC’s Superman
with Lois Lane, having sex while the world suffers at
the hands of Lex. Time to wake up and get that Luthor,
time to zip up and face the truth or we’ll slip back again,
back to 2010, back to living in fear of a Braintree
tear – it’s starting to be clear.

We need to test it to see if we can best it. Need to
slice and jab at mice and monkeys, need to clear our
heads and stop being junkies, blissed out, feeding off
the Wembley high. Need to get our hearts out the sky.
Need to get on board with this footballing resurrection.
So if it takes experimentation, cutting, slicing and
vivisection to bring it close, bring it near, then
it’s pretty mudding clear

rip it up, rip it and tear, forget the hare, be the goblin.

What?

The one that’s not hobblin’. Switching to Marvel for the
Green Goblin. That’s right, the one that’s Osborne,
not Norman, but just as green, just as mean. Black and
white bombs blowing up defence, diving at players and
making them tense. We’re Gunning for you, running at
you, and we’re shining and clear; we’re brand new.

The home page image is of rapper PW performing at HMV Birmingham. It is cropped from an image by Jwalkercpfc available under CC BY-SA 3.0

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