Cod Almighty | Diary

Stupid Bloody Tuesday Man

22 September 2026

An unexpected item in the diary area today, as BOTB bravely steps in at the last minute to save the day. Not at all true, but sounds impressive. 

So, Saturday. Two-nil. Sounds a nice, solid score, doesn't it? It's a dangerous score, though. When you get the second, you think you've won it. Relax. Have a jam sandwich. Miss a penalty. Miss an open goal. It's two-nil, dude. Chill. Oh, shit, they've pulled one back in the 89th minute. Surely we can't throw this one away? Suddenly, you've not just got butterflies in your stomach, you've got those big angry moths that fly into your bathroom lightbulb as though trying to smash it with their antennae. Probably Large Yellow Underwings (elite moth knowledge). Since we ended the game with the whole subs bench pretty much on and no centre-forward as such, it wouldn't have been a good time for the Crawlers to get a jammy one. Look, I'm trying to cut down on stress and you're not helping, Town! Get a third, next time, you dig?

Hilarity in the National League as Southend went 6-0 up at half time at Gateshead, leading to hope of another Arbroath 36 Bon Accord 0 type scenario playing out. Unfortunately, something happened in the second half, probably involving a pedal, some gas, and a foot, and the final score was 1-6. Ex-Mariner Harry Cardwell grabbed a brace, as posh football journalists always say, the second being a rather good finish. Gateshead's 89th-minute consolation was hilarious as their player managed to hit the post from a foot out, then fall into the post himself and have the ball ricochet off him again and dribble over the line pathetically like me doing the 200 metres with my slippers on. He then proceeded to get into a scuffle for the ball with the Southend defender, doubtless thinking that a deficit of five was nothing with stoppage time still to play. I love football.

So, Town-wise. we are wearing our hats at a jaunty angle at the moment, being unbeaten in seven with a tasty three wins and four draws under our belt. You know all this, of course, unless you've just stepped off a plane from Papua New Guinea, but it's worth reiterating on the basis that things can change rapidly. Enjoy the moment, is what I'm saying, basically. I saw a fascinating interview with Artell in which he said that some of the players that were here when he arrived couldn't do simple passing drills and shouldn't have been playing league football. Actually, it wasn't that fascinating, because we already could have guessed that. For me, though, the biggest difference is that we are now a mean bunch of hombres, rather than the rather fey ballerinas we tended to field when Paul Hurst, in particular, was in charge. I mean, I'd rather take the division with a bunch of Glenn Hoddle-style ballers playing football so beautiful you could put a frame around it and sell it at a gallery, but this division isn't like that. It's a scrap. Acknowledging that and preparing your team for that is the first step to League Two enlightenement. Grasshopper.

Away at Newport, this Saturday. To the Mariners who are going to support, I salute you. It's so easy to take things for granted that have been part of your life for years but the sheer dedication of the away fans is something worth considering and applauding. Good on yer, lads and lasses. Let's hope you are rewarded for your efforts. UTM.