Cod Almighty | Diary

Knuckles visits the nursing home, to visit the elderly

16 September 2026

Firstly, in response to Miss Guest diary's query yesterday about 21st century songs reaching the terraces, I'd like to mention 'We're the Black and White Army' based on Seven Nation Army by the White Stripes, 2008. Incidentally, one thing nobody warns you about getting older is that some visual effects leave you feeling a bit queasy. I can't watch the video for this song as it makes me feel like my head is becoming detached from my body, which is a bad thing. I tried to use my 14-year old nephew's VR headset recently. I was OK when I was standing still in the virtual world but when I 'walked' to a nearby window it was like being on a rollercoaster. I had to stop the car on the way home to throw up behind a hedge. Yup, I know. Cool story bro. 

I'm hoping, after a certain goal scored last weekend, to get the chant 'Turi, the Man who Scores Worldies' going to the tune of Knuckles, the Dog Who Helps People by Killdozer, at the Blundells this weekend. If you sit near me, join in!

Talking of last Saturday, this was one of the rare occasions in football, or life, that the goodies prevailed. When the President of the USA is Donald Trump and the richest man in the world is Elon Musk it might be quite easy to get cynical about the sweet, sweet power of virtue, but whenever the guy-linered powderkeg manbaby Steve Evans loses a football match it's like the ending of an old Batman TV show being played out in real life. KAPOW: Greeny flicks one into the net. KAPOWSPLURGEWHAT??!! Turi puts his first ever shot in football straight into the onion bag. DINK: floppy haired dimwit Tommy Leigh from Mötley Crüe is sent off for consistent arseholery. SPLAT: three points to Town and the evil Bristol Jokers are off the top of the table. Roll credits. 

A few years ago, we would have been bullied out of that game, but we've become a bit more streetfightery since them there days. Even Charles Vernam fouled someone, a bit. Apparently Steve Evanseseses'es half time 'team talk' was so loud and sweary it caused local cats to yowl as far away as Laceby Acres. "We can't blame the ref, but he was abysmal" whined the manbaby to the local Bristol press. I agree, Steve. A decent ref would have sent half of your shower off before halftime. Now get in the sea, you horrible oaf.

This Saturday we play the Crawley, who have been playing poorly. Wouldn't it be just like Town to have a stinker and lose this one? Eh? Eh? Cuh, dear. Eh? 

I watched the Bristols game from the Upper Findus, as I will always call it, and the experience is rather different from being at the back of the Pontoon with the bad lads and their dads. At one point someone offered me a liquorice allsort. There was only a little bit of foul language audible, and that came from me. I swear that half way through the second half four people a few seats behind took their instruments out and started playing an early Bartok String Quartet and nobody batted an eyelid. There was tea and sandwiches available, and a small Bring and Buy sale was held on behalf of the local church. In terms of gentility it was something else. A foul by a Rovers player that would have caused a full scale riot in the Ponny produced a few tuts and the rattling of teacups. I'm back in the Ponny this weekend. I hope they'll take me back. That can happen. Once you've spent some time with the posh people in the Upper, you can get rejected by the Pontoonites. It's the smell. 

Things are going well. Another home game to come, and we are looking hot. More tea, vicar?