Cod Almighty | Diary

Dance yourself dizzy

9 February 2026

Winter Olympics? A holiday hobby with medals.

Here in the ivory towers of Cod Almighty it is a truth universally acknowledged that it is possible to go to Newport once too often. Actually once is too often, as is letting Charles Vernam take a penalty when Andy Cook is on the pitch. So here I am, the Diary most Deviant, ambling and shambling towards you with second-hand news and third-hand views of something that happened in a country far away, of which I know little.

With Young Matt Dean refraining from asking the most bleeding obvious question ever we may never know why the Wolds Panther was let loose to piffle a tippy-tap to Jordan Wrong after Kabia's unsubtle recreation of the previous week's dreadful dive. All of which rather diverted attention from Wacko Jacko's wonder plunge and another inert second half against the lowly and holey. Not beating Newport means the season is officially over, there's no point in playing on given we're four points from the play offs and have a juicy free hit at The Mighty Wolves approaching. Yeah, getting a point means life is now pointless. Huh, kids, what do they know?

In seeking the required diverting diversion in the third paragraph I did notice that one of Let Loose is now in a Bucks Fizz spin off called The Fizz, a group that has three original members of Bucks Fizz in it. Bucks Fizz, as opposed to The Fizz, has only one original member in it. And this is not to be confused with David Van Day's Bucks Fizz which doesn't have any original members of Bucks Fizz in it and may or may not exist now he's gone back to being in Dollar. Or running his burger van in Brighton, one of the two. I wish they would all make their minds up.

They're turning on the heat, you're in for such a treat, so put on your dancing feet! Now you see why that apparently pointless diversion into pop ephemera was shoehorned into this mid-day ramble. Last week we brought news of an evening with Psychic Si and a pie; and lo, behold the expansion of the light entertainment package, for Saturday 14 March is the night if you play your cards right. Dolly dealers may be doing their dealing as McMenemy's, our very own land of make believe, hosts a 1980s based Quiz Night. And Discotheque. As always the advert is written by some random teenager (aka someone under 50), who's researched the internet and reached for the clichés. For them it is something that happened a long time ago of which they know little. The in-house AI, ChatGTFC, has gone wonky again. Totally rad? Chinny reckon.

If you remember the 80s you were there in the decade that time should forget. Was it all leg warmers, shell suits, and shoulder pads? No, not in Grimsby. And not in most places in real life, in real time.

The 1970 were a bit brown, but most people were happy enough in a very equal society where pub bores were laughed at, not lauded as leaders. The 1960s were not all groovy guys and dolly birds, the Pontoon was not powered by flowers, there were no Happenings in Humberston. As Nick Mason's autobiography attests, the further Pink Floyd ventured from London the more beer (and worse) was thrown at them. Normal people, the majority, were living their own normal life of a working week, nights out down the pub, and maybe a holiday at the seaside.

History is written by those who write it, television documentaries are produced by those who went to Oxbridge, music compilations by those who think themselves cool. The story of the past isn't written and wasn't curated by you and me, but you, and me, we remember what it was really like.

So hang ten, chill baby and don't wig out. Gotta motor, gotta practice my body popping and breakdancing on my Walkman.