Tardus inferioribus debiles

Cod Almighty | Match Report

by Tony Butcher

2 December 2020

Grimsby Town 1 Exeter City 4

Another Tuesday and we're back again on the Town treadmill. I recommend you find a darn good podcast and have the TV on in the background. Think of Town as a screensaver.

We never beat Exeter at home, let's just get this over with shall we and hope no-one notices.

First half – Syncopated pandemonium

The Grecians kicked off towards the Pontoon and let there be more light, for far, far, far, far away we could see them play. They will find a way through the haze. Something will be done on earth as it is in Devon.

Exeter, etc etc etc, Ha!

There they go chasing Waterfall, I think they are moving too fast. Ah, but people who jump Waterfall sometime make mistakes you know. Bowman knicked, Jay knocked against the advancing McKeown.

Bumbling, stumbling and an occasional chair. Town strived, Grecians thrived in the cracks between our pavements.

Williams the prancing pony tail, swinging and swaying through the skips. A corner nodded out, nodded back and Little Harry nodded off. Bowman turned alone and placed his order for dinner.

Wake up Harry, there's something Macca's gonna say to you.

Bowman arose alone to noddle a free kick to McKeown, Williams jinked, Randall winked as Grecians linked arms to sing a merry song. Are the home fires burning?

Fleeting moments from the fleet-footed Edwards, spinning paper plates that blew away in the breeze. Edwards wiggled, Hewitt woggled wider than Wide Willie Wilson, the widest man in Widdecombe.

I espy a ghostly figure haunting the halfway line. Is it the Pontoon poltergeist? No, it's the ghost of Simon Ford. Idehen beautifully caressed an up and under, straight into the flightpath of Taylor. He wandered lonely as a cloud and Jamie Mack fluttered and danced in the breeze to foil the rascal's dastardly plans.

Shush, I hear a sound. Someone's breathing there. Edward and Preston jinking and jousting, Green head-looped, Maxted mopped and scooped under the bar. Stripes surging, pushing right, mushing left. Scannell approached the full-back and gave him a twirl, dinking delightfully with the outside of the right boot to the farthest post. Hendrie barged the ball and Grecian into the net from milli-yards out. Marvellous.

And Hendrie was booked for planking Williams.

Town in a Devon lock, galloping gaily, disaster imminent as intricate threads were pulled. Williams darted and dashed from their right to drift around McKeown and carefully place the ball into the emptied nest. Cuckoo. Cuckoo. Cuckoo.

C'mon hold your head up high. Don't let it get you down, you can take it.

Ah. Maybe they can't.

A red plunged near the Police Box. Please don't spoil his day, he's miles away, Edwards was only sleeping. A dink was dunked, Key sneaked in, snuck a pass into the near post and Williams back-flicked through his legs, Jamie Mack's legs and the ball slowly rolled off the post and over the line.

I think I'll get the tree out of the garage now.

Two minutes were added.

Whatever happened to the Holloway revolution? He should realise by now that we never get if off on that revolution stuff. What a drag, too many snags, old lags and soiled rags.

Second half – Something else

Pollock replaced the ghost of Simon Ford and Town had, in the context of the night, a bit of a go. Pollock headed up and volleyed over from a free kick. Edwards with an inside-outside cross-field boot-curler, Scannell infiltrated the tanks. Maxted low-punched away, they broke and professional Rose was professionally booked for a professional foul.

Unlike him, let's skip over Waterfall's sabre dance and the loopy deflecto-cross flipped over by McKeown.

Mmm, on reflection, I'd go with the silver tinsel on the tree and predominantly red baubles.

Half way through the half Town brought on more feathers so the little bird can fly…like Orville. Gomis and Bennett replaced Green and Clifton. Heft and hustle was replaced by flim and flam, who so very nearly bagged the gig to be Roland Rat's replacement.

A sudden red break on their right with Taylor jinking freely as Rose ailed and railed against the dying of his legs. To the bye-line and pulled backly, some bloke scrivvelled into the hedge in front of McKeown. The ball deflated off Waterfall's shins and fell perfectly for Jay to calmly pass in from eight yards out.

It's so easy, they do as they pleasy, we're feeling kinda queasy. How many do they want to score?

Now, where's the Christmas cards.

Here and there, now and then. Things. Double Scannellness, double save after Preston pinging. Scannell and Gomis tackled each other to divert danger from Devon. As aimless as a leaf in a gale.

Hendrie and Waterfall auditioned for next year’s comedy role in Strictly Come Dancing, performing a slapstick gentleman's excuse me as Taylor danced away along the bye-line, passing past the arms of McKeown to Bowman two yards out, alone with his thoughts. He thought of us at home who needed a little cheering up, and so avoided scoring, passing perfectly into the Osmond Stand.

Other subbing, but no more blubbing. Hewitt was hoiked for Taylor, Adlard replaced Edwards. Those are facts, nothing of consequence flowed from these changes. They made changes too. It's a long way to come to sit around watching grass grow.

An Exeter corner ricocheted off several striped socks and into the arms of McKeown, possibly off a post, possibly off a ghost. Can you smell toast?

Five minutes were added. They had a free kick, they had a header, they had the points. Everyone went home.

Simply superior in every way. Men against some egg yolks.