Town Ate All The Pies: Notts Co Report

Grimsby Town 4 Notts County 0
24 Sep 2005, Coca Cola League 2

The Town fans were swelling in numbers and pride, that weird feeling of undiscontentment seeping out from every pore. Yes matey, there are seats in the Pontoon now. And a roof.

Town lined up in a full blown, good old fashioned meat and two veg with gravy don't eat your peas with a knife 4:4:2 formation, as shown. Francis, sturdy and tall, was on the right of midfield with Parkinson on the left. The rest of the motion speaks for itself - I urge you to vote in favour.

The County mascots, Mr and Mrs Magpie, rolled in to town with the cultural impact and sexual frisson of Arthur Mullard and Hilda Baker. It's one way of getting in free, I suppose.

Dish of the Day: Paul Bolland's chicken tikka rogan josh with pilau rice and naan bread - quicker to eat than say. Be careful though, it may irritate the bowel and watch out for puddles of fat. Eh? Tony Crane isn't even on the bench

Notts County played in a fading pale blue kit and seemed to have an awful lot of strikers, none of whom were called Jermaine. How can we treat them seriously?

1st half

Town kicked off towards the Pontoon, immediately signalling the change of tactic - bang it in the air to Big Francis, who towered over the County full back. Nice to see such a change from banging it in the air to the centre forward. Big Francis: wasn't he in the Pixies, or was that Cilla Black?

Oh dear, they can run quickly. County fizzing around in their magic swirling ship, Town's centre backs have been stripped; but don't worry, Mildenhall's hands didn't fail to grip when the ball arrived near. You don't be-leeeeeeeeeve me? The first ten minutes were quite worrying, County dominated, causing Town terrible ethical dilemmas with their movement and pace. To clobber or to clatter?

A minute gone, a chance gone for County. A free kick on their right was clipped low to some young chap at the far post, perhaps a dozen yards out, who stepped inside his marker and cushion-volleyed the ball back to a chum. Said chum sliced wide. Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens; bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens: Town fans said things very unlike their favourite things.

Ooo, yep, there they go again. Tipping, tapping, snapping away at Town, all pace and prettiness; Whittle wobbling, Jones extending his ladders when required and cleaning the highest of windows with gay abandon. A cross was snaggled away without daintiness; a corner muscled clear by Big Town. Town focussed upon Francis' head, the game devoid of Town interest. Hold on, hold on, here we go: near the Police Box, Francis collected the ball on his chest and powered at Ullerthorn. Bolland supported and the ball was dimpled into the area for him to run onto. He raised his spinnaker and sailed over a blue sock, joining the optimistic and unsighted in claiming a penalty. The referee took pity and didn't book him for a rubbish dive, falling over a foot that wasn't there.

A couple of minutes later the ball was played to Francis just inside the County half. He waited, facing the dug outs, and flicked the ball infield as Ullathorne arrived a little bit late for his wedding, spinning wildly and spectacularly, inducing a free kick and a yellow card. Nothing happened of any consequence from the free kick.