Cod Almighty | Diary

And merrily we roll along, bursting with dreams

25 November 2025

If it's the fourth Tuesday in the our cycle of Tuesdays then it's your Deviant Diarist here to ensure you are emotionally fulfilled this very and particular Tuesday and to maintain the state of Blundell Park bliss, the striped sweet spot of psychological contentment. As long as I remember it's the fourth Tuesday and not the third, or the second, or even the first. Hang on, is it even Tuesday?

Confused, you soon will be.

Well, I could write 500 words and I could possibly write 500 more, just to be the man who bought a 1,000-piece jigsaw. And what a jigsaw it would be. Just in time for Christmas the powers that be called down to the men down the meme mine and up comes this thing of beauty that will last forever. Yep, the Man Utd game memorialised as it should be, in CEEFAX form. Now, if someone could just dub Barry Davies onto the commentary and get a local rock group down the street to write a song we'd have our full fill of pre-Premier League nostalgia, when football was football. The kids just don't understand.

Yes, yes, it a non-game Tuesday, merely a metaphorical toilet stop on the information highway, halfway between Swindon and Tranmere. Which makes it Walsall, that's halfway between Swindon and Tranmere, I looked it up using a computer. Big Dave would love it, it's data and AA route maps.

Football, yes of course, football, we'll get on to that. Look, over there, there's a dozen minutes of delightful chat with Tony-Tony-Tony-Tony-Tony Ford a mere 50 years after his debut. Those were the days, my friend, when you could call down any old school corridor and call up a couple of fast wingers, or slinky strikers, or solid yeoman defenders. Good old Fordy strolls down the canyons of his mind with a paeon of praise for Tom Casey's old school rock and roll, Nunny Boys and the great Lyons unravelling, which wasn't great at all, was it.

He once went through my mum's till at the old Asda. Lovely lad she said, so polite.

And we politely request someone steps forward to fill the void in our future lives – we were match reporterless for the upcoming trips to annoying Shrewsbury, Bromley, and Fleetwood. Our usual suspect got annoyed once too often and simply refuses to enter these places ever again. Something about principles. I've just looked on the internet and it says Principles is now defunct. Hey, that's the modern world all over. We've had a volunteer for a couple of the games, but we wouldn't want burden this striped saint with a trio of irritation.

Well, here's another silver dollar to pull from behind your ear. As long as Rocking Rachel doesn't put an emergency tax on fish and chips, we're all set for Thursday fun. Don't worry, her hubby grew up around here, his mum taught at Lisle Marsden for a bit, the ISA queen won't get her tea if she's done that.

How did we get so far off the track, how did we ever get from there to here? It's the Tuesday before the Thursday, there's no new nuggets of news so just let your thoughts stray to a day not far away; you don't need a change of scenery when we've got Kieran Greenery.