Cod Almighty | Diary
Diary - Friday 4 June 2004
4 June 2004
RaarhÂ… What's that noise I hear? RaarhÂ… But surely it's too early in the year for that? The sighting, when it is made, however, is conclusive, and the tiny sound can be attributed to the inimitable Henman 'roar'. Tiger Tim is back, and your bored-as-hell guest diarist will be watching him get well and truly stuffed this afternoon as he takes on an Argie who really knows how to play tennis on clay. By the way, yesterday was, for Cod Almighty, like the opening night broadcast of BBC2 was for Corporation executives - a frustrating and embarrassing waste of bloody time. Not that we can be arsed to apologise, or even rattle on about 99 per cent uptime or owt. Shit happens, and then you die. OK? The good news, though, is that you will get a two-for-one on diaries when webmeister-extraordinaire Pete Green finally manages to teach that pesky ISP server the lesson it thoroughly deserves. That's reason number eighty-three to shop at Cod Almighty, for you northern readers.
Myself, I spent yesterday morning at a big building, full of doctors and nurses, learning that I have contracted Morton's neuroma. And the afternoon in the company of a very nice hippogriff named Buckbeak. A Beckham-like foot injury just a few weeks ahead of the pre-season friendlies means I face a lonely battle for fitness. A battle to be fought from a comfy chair in front of the telly, I suspect. But the bewildering array of digital TV channels these days means you really have to be on your toes. For example, I was very cheesed off when I realised that I had forgotten to watch the penalty-ridden Brazil v Argentina game on Bravo the other night. Time to give Uncle Rupert some more money and invest in Skyplus, I suppose. I gather you tell the box what you like and then it automatically records it for you. So, if I say Grimsby Town, Prince Far-I, and the wacky races then it will probably blow a digital gasket. More on that story later in the year, I suspect.
The club has announced its season ticket prices today for the next campaign. The emphasis, the official site tells us, is "on the younger supporter and family groups." However, at half-twelve, no sign of any prices yet. Trust me, though, it'll be cheap at half the price.
That extraordinary winger cum jellyfish, known to you and I as Kevin Donovan, has hit the news as he signs for relegated-to-the-conference York City. The City part of his new club nomenclature presumably led Kev to think that York is 'another' big club notch on his bedpost. The announcement made mention of 'personal problems' besetting Donovan, and preventing him playing at the end of last season. I'll resist the temptation to make a (another) cheap crack at this point. In case it's something really horrible and sad. Or because I can't think of one. One or the other anyway.
Much more importantly the Cod Almighty CAMRED campaign has finally borne fruit as the club is now stocking red socks. Back by demand, the shop claims - let us hope that demand extends to the Town first team next season. Of course, there is a horrible corporate sweatshop logo plastered all over the front of the said stockings. A sad, but predictable, sign of the times. However, momentarily extricating himself from a server deadlock, CAMRED founder Pete Green has wiped his hands on an oily rag and declared excitedly: "CAMRED members all over the world will be delighted with this news. Never mind the new physio set-up or Slade being the new Buckley - CAMRED applauds the club for recognising that red stockings are absolutely crucial to taking GTFC back where we belong: in Division One of the Football League and in the Premiership of Style." Right on, Pete. I'll leave you, gentle reader, with a link to a page that neatly shows the evolving Town strip over the last century or so and let you pick your own favourite. See yer.
