Cod Almighty | Diary

Now Pym the goalkeeper's got here are Town fans gonna jump for joy?

14 July 2025

Rather than a weekend off bonding with teammates over a game of pool, or just bonding with family, this year's AI-enhanced datapoints had a secret Saturday kickabout against those ailing, failing cats from across the water in the land with plenty of problems. Your Deviant Diary is here to place a wet towel over your forehead and remind you that a game of Wembley in Cottingham is nothing to get hung about. I say Wembley only because a 1-0 defeat courtesy of another of Seb Auton's foot fetishes wouldn’t factually or comedically fit with Two-And-You're-In. And they did have goalposts for goalposts as this action picture shows.

Ah yes, 'Ull, a club with what Britain's leading Oswald Ernald Moseley drag artist Herr Robert Jenrick would call a weird Turkish owner. It is weird that Hull have a Turkish owner, but that doesn't make him weird per se. The troubled Tigers are in turmoil and they're another example of 'be careful what you wish for' as all that glisters is probably amber, not liquid gold. Why would someone from afar want to run your football club? It'd be weird if someone from Wakefield wanted to run Town, but we are, like the Boating Lake on a lazy Sunday afternoon, in tranquil waters these days.

Ducks waddling, day trippers dawdling, perhaps too tranquil. The sun is going to our heads, with much wooing and cooing about the best laid plans for our all new singing and dancing Marinermen. Are we getting too excited, too over confident based merely on last season's unexpected jaunt up the league and new humans we know nothing about yet? Hope. Hope, we know what that does.

Mind you, we can let Vice Chairman Wow off, he does have form, as last summer he revealed his intense excitement for last season where he believed something was around the corner. A hostage to fortune, a stick for the furrowed brow people of Facebookland to beat him with it seemed. Ah, but he wasn't wrong, was he? It all turned out nice in the end. Maybe, just maybe, he does know what he's talking about after all. Oh look, how typically tropical, he's popped up again with another one of his dissertations on the meaning of football life and everything.

And so after a summer of sexy shirts, slinky silky signings and super-dooper social media content it’s been a Lincolnshire love-in as the Twitts, Blue Sky drinkers and messageboard messiahs fell at the feet of the football club. Everything little thing they've done (this week) is magic; every little TikTok has turned them on. We love you, we love you all, nothing can go wrong now!

Ah-ha! That's better. We're snapping out of this psychedelic summer of love as the South Bank soft power brokers push the positivity envelope just a little beyond the Kuiper Belt deep within the fans survey. They forget, this is Grimsby – we are contrary to the core.

No goal music! No toe-curling tifo toshery!

We all know that children are the future, but don't pander to their callowness and shallowness. Kids throughout the ages have always sought to rebel by being just like everyone else. It's called fashion and, face facts, these fads fade. We're different, we're Grimsby, we don't need no education on what to say or sing or do or don't. Let's be natural. Let the needy and weedy fall in behind the trite, bland, corporate mission statements mixed with pretentious plagiarism and sub-Californian psychobabbling. Yes, you Imps, that was so limp. 

News stuff? Jake Eastwood signed for Cambridge. Whatever. He'll either be the vibrant version we saw at the end of the season or the flaky jelly we endured in the previous year. And that, my fine furry friends, is exactly the inverse of what the Mansfield fans have been saying about Christy Pym.

But the future is now, so now what? Gainsborough tomorrow. Now that is a proper meaningless kickabout; pre-season starts here. Do they still do those cracking chips? There's only one way to find out.