Cod Almighty | Diary

Exit music (for a film)

22 December 2025

Got up, got out of bed, dragged a comb across my head, went downstairs and somebody spoke… Town's game kicks off at 12:30. Oh, right. There's enough milk for a coffee and Rice Krispies…ooh, a Christmas card from Great Auntie Mary. What time's the next bus into town? I could do with some new slippers.

Could we be bothered to watch Bromley? No, not worth seeing, and definitely not worth going to see.

Yes, this was your Deviant Diary's household on Saturday morning. You see Town are receding, becoming a shrug, simply drifting through the year, drifting slowly, slowly, slowly downstream and out of sight and, soon perhaps, out of mind for many a Mariner. There is a lack of direction, a silence from everyone but Artell, the hired hand left alone in the spotlight, trying not to wince at noises off. Long gone are the days when Chairman Wow would woo and renew enthusiasm when results dipped.

Nature abhors a vacuum.

And so here we are again with a Christmas crisis looming, a dam full of Blundell bile ready to burst. Are things really that bad? Perhaps the question should be "Were they really that good?" Are Town doing anything differently? Is it simply that some runty chickens that were ignored are coming home to roost?

And you may ask yourself, is he right or is he wrong? What's the explanation this time? Same as it ever was, same as it ever was - the computer says it's OK. Really? Yet another Saturday amble-shambles, so there's no surprise that those who travelled felt let down, whilst those watching at home were climbing up the walls and those listening on the radio lost their heads.

Picking a back four containing four centre-backs to counter the Bromley Way may make sense, but not when it is claimed that the plan was to pick the four tallest defenders. McJannet is not taller than Staunton. That's just a fact. Perhaps we need a new computer. Perhaps it would have been better to say we picked the four best headers of the ball.

Perhaps we'll get a new keeper, the need is not a perhaps but a necessity. Rather handily, Pym's groin had a timely seasonal twinge and so Jackson Smith is, unlike a puppy, with us for Christmas. Or longer. Or maybe someone else is. Or not. It's all up in the air, which is usually when Town concede of course.

It's all going pear-shaped, much like Julian Dicks' hair in 1993.

As a seasonal treat your CA team got a Christmas card from Town signed by a pot pouri of players. To while away the dreary days you can help us decipher the scribbles - which is which and who is who, and who is the joker in the pack, someone so good he signed it twice?

Hey, don't give up on Town, baby, they're still worth one more try. Let's stick together, c'mon, c'mon let's stick together, every boy, girl, woman and man and make Boxing Day worthwhile.  

Let's get on the ball and work together one more time.