Cod Almighty | Diary

Hey Jude, you'll do

12 August 2025

If it's Tuesday it must be your ruefully reflective and trusty chronicler of The Olden Times, Mr Newbegin Diary, bringing you all the news that's fit to print? Well, it isn't. Events, dear boy, have conspired to rob you of your weekly moral compass. Flying blind and in a blind rage it's your Emergency Deviant Diary with his hot take on Stuff Out There. Secure your hand luggage and fasten your seat belts, here we go.

Take off your socks and close the curtains, welcome to Heatwave 4. There is, of course, no climate change in Lincolnshire - the mayoral pantomime dame hath spoken, so it must not be so. I say spoken, more that she made a series of noises that could, using the very latest AI and autotune, be formed into English words. Please don't string those 'words' together, you'll never get out of the amoral maze.

Back in the olden days, pre-Covid, the weather was reliably reliable: first day of the season was dank and, appropriately for us Ancient Mariners, one in three of our League Cup first round matches would be abandoned due to a barnstorming drenching. Football is about memories. And getting very wet.

Will we be wet tonight? Depends who's playing. Let's ask Artell, not Aspel…

After another pointless celebrity interview with David A.I.rtell there is nothing to extract from the dried prune of a pre-match presser. The same questions, the same convoluted non-answers. Team news? Sorry Matt, we don't want to give away a competitive advantage. OK, so any update on the injured players. Sorry Matt, we don't want to give away a competitive advantage. Any signings? Sorry Matt, we don't want to…

1-2-3 WAHEY!

Here he comes, a walking down the street with a finger on his eyebrow and hand upon his hip. The search for the (next) hero, the perfect 10, is over. Jude Soonsup-Bell, found deep down, deep down inside a secret spreadsheet, has finally arrived after his false Spanish step away from a gilded youth. He knows George, George knows him, and he knows all about the bright lights and big dreams on the Costa Del Meggies – it's the place to be! And he be here now, for a year or two.

Fittingly, appropriately and quite literally we've been treated to a soupçon of the new kid in town. And that, a soupçon, is exactly what we're going to be getting until he's been fully processed and integrated into "The Grimsby Way"™. Now that is something Gabbling Dave let out of his bag.

Tonight? Let's be slapping some Salop after slapping on the sun cream. We can but dream.