Cod Almighty | Diary

Some people are going home! They think it's all over !

29 October 2025

Howdy doody. Since most people reading this will have watched the game, I thought I'd do today's diary as a personal account of last night's match, whether you want me to or not. 

17.45 Ocean Fish Bar with the CA Crew and others. There are Town shirts, there are Brentford shirts, there are neutral shirts. It's like the United Colours of Benetton but with chips. Regrettably, the apple pie still has sultanas in it. I give the waitress a withering look and order the cherry pie. She looks back and nods gently as though to show she's as angry as I am. Revolution is in the air. 

19.00 Due to different parking arrangements I end up limping to the game on my own, my dodgy knee playing up. On the way I think about how Brent Ford would be a great name for a superspy. The name's Ford. Brent Ford. No, Mr Ford, I expect you to be beaten by Grimsby. Etc. 

19.25 Reach the ground. Walk cheerfully through the car park with its continental style drive-on-the-right system, bravely ignoring all other road systems in Britain and cocking a snook at the stifling, stuck in the mud, repressive Highway Code.

19.27 Realise that the massive queue I can see is for the Pontoon Stand. Oh shit. It doesn't seem to be moving very fast. Limp all the way back to the main road. The queue stretches as far as the bus stop and beyond. What's going on? Were the club not expecting anyone to turn up? 

19.35 Discontent is simmering in the queue. A lady steward explains that it's not her job to open another turnstile but she would if she could. Some of the crowd start to turn ugly. Some of them, including myself, don't have far to turn. 

19.45. Oh good, the game is starting. The big kick off! Sadly I'm still outside someone's garden, which isn't the best position to watch the action from. I can clearly see two unmanned turnstiles and a massive gate which they could presumably open. Or delay the kick off or something. No? Oh. There are still loads of people outside and a long queue. 

19.53 The game sounds exciting. I've got as far as the car park. I can see a small section of the pitch with no players on it. It's green.

19.55 They open a gate! I reach the gate and show the nesbit my ticket code on my phone. He tells me it's been used before. Since I've spent the last 25 minutes in a queue, that doesn't seem likely. He tells me to go to the ticket office. I tell him, entirely reasonably, that I've already missed ten minutes of the game and I'm not going to the flipping ticket office, by Timothy! He tells me I can't go in. Everybody behind me is now turning even uglier. If the Kaiser Chiefs had been in that queue they could have got another song out of it. I'm not having fun. 

19.57 My new drunk best friend turns up. He says to the nesbit 'for fuck's sake let the fucker in you fucker', grabs my arm and propels me into the ground. The nesbit shouts at me to come back. I ignore him. I feel like a criminal, which is fine, because I'm a season ticket holder and I've only been going for 50 years so treating me like a troublesome alcoholic going through the bins at the back of Threshers is exactly what I deserve. 

19.59 Reach my seat. There's someone sitting in it. Thankfully he's a nice lad and he moves straight away. I'm told we've been playing well and I see five minutes of great football from Town.  

20.05 We give them a goal, then they score another and the whole place flattens like a three-week-old party balloon. 

20.55 Some people have started going home. This is because Brentford are much better than us, and are going to win easily. This apparently baffles them and they are not willing to hang about to see such a dismaying cup exit. Perhaps they are confused and think we are playing Ebbsfleet.

21.05 We start singing "where were you when you were shite" at the Brentford fans. They have a quick two minute discussion amongst themselves and come back with "we were here when we were shite" which, you can't deny, is a very good effort. Credit to them for that witty retort. More people leave. 

21.30 I realise that I can't despise Brentford, even though they are a premiership team. They don't argue with the ref. They don't feign injury. They are ruthlessly professional. They play football. They are the anti-Colchester! Lots of people leaving.

21.50 Limp back to the car and get stuck in the traffic lights at Isaac's Hill for 20 minutes. 

Conclusion. A great day out! Bring on the Ebbsfleets!