Ok, I'm taking the piss out of my alledged fickleness but after Saturday's buzzing 1-0 win in Wiltshire my mood has significantly improved and was just what the doctor ordered after two awful results.
Before Saturday Salisbury was the only ground in the league that I hadn't been to so football aside I was rather looking forward to the prospect. I'd even came up with the idea on Friday evening to buy a bottle of jaigermeister for the journey and get the others to chip in, a superb plan which would pay dividends in the end.
I woke up nice and early on Saturday morning for this one; 6:20AM to be precise. Having to catch the 7.44AM train I need a good couple of cups of coffee and a lengthy shower to be prepared for this one, as well as sticking the jaigermeister in the freezer for good measure.
We had a nice small youthful group for this one, with the train army consisting of Doddy, Josh Watkins, Jared and most fantastically, Russell returning from university for the weekend. And better still, ginger Johnathan Pring was to join us at Waterloo.
Our spiritual train leader Phil Smith was low on funds and eventually plumped to get the supporters coach, so I was placed on caretaker leader for the day.
It was a bit of a slow journey to begin with. I was one of the only few to kick-start my drinking as soon as we got on the train while the others fannied about, complaining that it was early or something. Thankfully I'm one of the few who understands etiquette and the number one rule of NOT FUCKING ABOUT.
We had to change at Ashford International where we had a 25 minute wait. As the only smoker in the group I didn't mind as these breaks give me the time to 'recharge'.
The others went in the station cafe and fucked around buying food, magazines and newspapers.
It was quite an enjoyable journey up into Scumdon. Jared brought Nuts magazine and seemed genuinely enthralled by the quality of 'journalism' they put into their publications. Every time he turned a page featuring another half-naked morally corrupt slap with their baps out he would use another one of his lads phrases "I wouldn't mind playing hide my sausage with her", "I wouldn't mind feeding her pony" etc, the usual mundane stuff you get from us young male adults.
When I got hold of the magazine I began taking the piss out of the shite that features in magazines like that and I was particularly scathing of their "footy" survey. In the question "How often do you watch your team a season?" about 75% of the answers we made up by either 'Never', 'Rarely' or 'Once or twice a season' which just speaks volumes about their readership.
This did lead onto some rare decent footballing discussions amongst us though on a range of various topics. No offence to the others but me and Russell are particularly knowledgable young chaps.
Jokes. A journey cannot be complete with lots of jokes flying around, mainly being read straight from sickipedia. I told a few particularly grim and discusting offensive ones I heard (Them ones so awful that you wince when you repeat them) but the best ones were the lame ones like 'I had to go to court for gambling with my luggage, I won my case'.
Jared seemed intent on repeating lots of songs from Channel 4 children programme ' The Hoobs' which I gladly joined in with. Unless you have young children that watch it in the morning or some reason you just like watching it because you're a paedophile, you would have thought we were complete and utter weirdos.
So we arrived into London fairly lively, having consumed a couple of jaigerbombs and quite a few beers (well, I had anyway) and we got there half an hour before our planned 10:20AM train into Salisbury. And thus I put forward the idea of having a quick pint in one of my favourite London pubs; The Hole In The Wall. So we walked outside and onto the pub before being horrified to discover that the pub was not even open. A pub not open before 10AM?! Of course. We're all fucking idiots for not even having contemplated the possibility.
And thus, we headed back into the Station with some time to kill. Russell, Josh and Doddy all purchased grub from one of those shite overpriced poncy station food bar things (I can't remember the name of it but it has a French sounding name and is quite a common brand in stations?). I can't quite understand why someone like Dodd is prepared to pay £2.50 for a single sausage roll but its his life and he is able to make his own decisions without me being judgemental.
Then we discovered our train was already rooted on the platform so we headed over there and met John, before finding some comfort on the train by grabbing a couple of tables.
I don't think it took too long for John to begin regretting ever deciding to catch the train with us. Before the train had even left the station I carelessly knocked over my bottle of budweiser which sadly spilt all over his leg and shoe. While I was distraught to have wasted nearly a whole bottle of beer I was equally pleased that it wasn't our jaigermeister that I knocked over, which hadn't come cheap at £18 for the bottle.
This journey was the beginning of many jaigerbombs though as we began to become concerned that I hadn't purchased enough energy drinks to get enough out of it. But we still managed to have 3 or 4 each, leaving us plenty to celebrate/commisserate on the way back.
I can't recall anything significant of our 80 minute journey to Salisbury other than Josh rushing off to chunder in the toilets a couple of times. I have no idea whether this was because he was still hungover from the previous night or whether he was genuinely ill but i'll go for the third option of him being unable to handle the couple of beers he had drunk on the way up.
 |
| I wouldn't particularly want to wake up to that (Jared) in the morning! |
I'd been given a list of pubs worth visiting from a Salisbury fan called Dave so we kick-started our drinking in the Weatherspoons nearby the station. It was actually a very nice building - sort of looked like a castle from the outside - and with a massive beer garden and the sunshine ablaze it was a good place to start.
Me and Russell decided we were going to man the fuck up and drink ale in the pubs we were going to. So I opted for a pint of Singers Gold, a locally brewed (I think - it was available in quite a few places) golden ale and it went down a treat. It certainly made me wonder why I normally just opt for the easy fizzy lager shite option.
Russ also agreed to write down the names of each ale on his iPhone so I could remember them for this blog. Cheers mate!
Quite a few of the others decided to order Burgers here so we were held up a bit by people prioritizing food over alcohol which is again against the away day etiquette.
Also going against the etiquette was Doddy ordering Fosters tops. I'm often prone to a pint of fosters which is nothing I would like to shout from the rooftops about but needing to add lemonade to what is already essentially piss just takes the piss. He understandably got a deserved ribbing from us over this.
Josh and Doddy also seemingly forgot you get a free pint when you get a burger at weatherspoons, so by the time we were prepared to leave they both had to leave behind a full pint. I attempted my best to neck some of it before leaving but didn't manage it very well.
Thanks to the invention of iPhone maps we were able to discover our next pub target; The Chough Inn. We were keen on heading here because the pronounciation of the pub name is exactly the same as a slang term for a woman's lady parts. But this pub was excellent not only on its name but its own merits, a very traditional old place with a wide selection of ales and continental lagers available. I went for the aptly named Chuffin Ale which I myself was pretty chuffed about. It was another golden ale because I prefer the lighter ones.
 |
| Me and Johnny Pring inside the chuff. |
In here we saw gambling addict Jared net £19 from the fruit machine from just a couple of quid which I suppose was a pretty good return on the day. Josh Watkins had his second chunder of the day for some bizarre reason, considering he had barely drunk anything. We also saw a fellow older Dover fan in here who I had never seen before and then a further few younger Dovorians in about their mid 20's also entered the pub. At us miniscule non-league clubs you pretty much know who must people are by face, particularly at away games but I had never recognized these dudes before. Pretty strange.
From here onwards I decided we would head to the Anchor and Rose, a pub in which Dave and a few other Salisbury fans would be drinking in. It was quite a pain in the arse to find it but we managed to get their eventually after waiting for Josh to purchase some jam from the Saturday outdoor market. A very random thing to buy on an away day, but it was a nice sentiment for him to bring something back for his parents, I suppose.
This was quite an old school boozer with a juke box, beer garden, pool tables and stuff. I supped on a golden bolt in here which yet again was another really nice ale and has decided to put me back on the ale trail for our next away games. We also had a good chat with DaveSCFC and SCFCPensioner in here for a little while before they caught a taxi to the ground at two. I was dissapointed that SCFCPensioner is not actually that old, does not piss himself and needs a carer to wipe his arse for him unlike his internet persona but they both seem like pretty decent blokes.
Sadly though there were some right fucking nobheads in the beer garden at the back. There were a mixture of chav vermin that looked like they belonged on the Jeremy Kyle show yet at the same time they had West Country accent, so their dialect was absolutely hidious. One of the thick cunts asked who I supported. "Dover" I responded,
"Who are you going to watch them play?" He added
"Err, Salisbury"
"Ooooh is that today"
"Yes"
Then they basically began to berate how shit their local club is but strangely liked to refer themselves as "we" when it suited them. Twats. Sadly this was only our third pub but time was ticking on and we had to start thinking about getting taxis to the ground already. Its annoying how quickly time can go on an away day and it certainly did here. I'd be happy to arrive in town for 11AM for most away days. You waste quite a bit of time trying to find other pubs and waiting for slow drinkers like Russell to finish up so the time flies by, quite heart-breakingly.
Our taxi was ordered for 2:20PM in there which meant I could only muster up another half pint before we entered our taxi which arrived minutes early. Here we had to endure a tosser of a taxi driver who spent the journey slagging off their football club for no particular reason other than that they're not as good as his beloved Tottenham Hotspurs. I Wasn't particularly amused anyway because we probably have people in our town that show contempt for the football club for no real reason. This taxi drive actually said he'd hope that we'd win. Twat.
Anyway, it was a good job we did get a taxi because the ground is fucking miles away from the town centre, in fact seemingly miles away from civilization. It would probably be the equivelent of us playing in Capel le-Ferne as Dave Waterfield quite rightly said. Certainly a horrible location that would make me think twice about wanting Dover to move to a new out of town stadium.
We arrived in the club car park about 25 minutes til kick-off, which meant I was keen to have a quick pint in their bar before the game. Except their steward claimed that their bar was closing up soon, as it does 10 minutes before kick-off for some reason so that we should dodge it all together. Fine then, if you don't want our custom then we won't.
So instead we entered the ground. With no person amongst us that I could borrow as my "dad" I had to pay the full adult price, as I couldn't be arsed to try and get in as a student. Turned out to be a bad decision because they didn't ask for student ID to the real students amongst us and it cost THIRTEEN FUCKING QUID to get in as an adult. I thought the £12 at Crabble was bad enough but a further quid on top of that takes the biscuit.
And really was extorniate when you consider that they only have a two side ground; its a very strange place. The main seated stand accross the side is perfectly fine and the covered terrace that runs behind the goal is one of the best in our league. But the either two sides there is practically nothing, just a few steps. Theres two really small tinpot seated stand down the side with an electronic scoreboard inbetween but that is it. Big shame because the place does have potential. Dave had told me earlier on that their old chairman holds the lease to the ground so its not worth them making any further improvements to the ground otherwise he'll fleece them, which is fair enough.
I also ignored Dave's advice about not buying any food in their ground. He was right - the cheese burger I purchased was pretty rancid. I rarely buy food at grounds but I'd only eaten a couple of prawn crackers from Kieren Dodd up until then so I needed to re-charge some energy.
The other nuisance with this ground is that you're not allowed to smoke underneath the covered terraces and have to go round the side. I can fully understand the reasonings for this but from a personal selfish perspective its a bit of a pain in the arse!
So after having a cigerette with Champ and speaking to a lot of other Dover fans that had travelled by coach and car, it was time for the most least anticipated Dover match in the history of supporting Dover Athletic. Ok, that's an overstatement but nobody went into this game very expectant of a result.
The trouble with this being a two-sided ground meant that the vast majority of Salisbury fans were to stand in the main terrace for both halves of the game. And with us kicking towards this end in the first half we had to share the same oxygen with many of their supporters, a lot of whom looked like they had come from something out of the film 'The hills have eyes'.
It wasn't long until the 'banter' from both sets of supporters was flying. We had to endure loads of the typical, unwitty, unoriginal, dull and mundane anti-French stuff that is oh-so-funny while they had to endure what I imagine was equally turgid anti-bumpkin, carrot-munching stuff that you associate with the West Country.
The problem is that their 'wit' was absolutely embarrasingly bad at times, culminating in one of the most stupid chants I have ever heard. "You can stick your fucking tower up your arse".
Err, what? It was only after a few minutes that we clocked onto that it was a reference to the Eithel Tower in Paris. Ahh, fucking brilliant. That would be the Paris that is well over 200 miles away then. I thought we were from Calais?!
Anyway, I responded with the retort "we've got a tower, we've got a tower, you a'int, you a'int" along with "Tower hamlets, tower hamlets, tower hamlets". (For any non-Dovorians reading, Tower Hamlets is an area of Dover.
We responded well to most of their efforts and certainly won the battle of wits, although thats no real achievement considering what was against us. I think Dave Waterfield's brilliant facebook status from the other evening sums up the situation perfectly;
"Citizens of Salisbury.
With evolution now widely considered to be a good thing, getting around to doing some might be a well considered course of action this being the 21st century.
Standing around as a heavily foreheaded, sunken eyed parade of freakshow oddities with faces resembling a plate of overcooked and recently bereaved root vegetables for 20 minutes trying - and epically failing - to cons...truct a witty retort to any received banter only serves to reinforce the hackneyed 6 fingered / webbed feet / sister / mother / banjo stereotype.
So crack on chaps because when your life flashes before your eyes, there's not going to be much to see now is there?
Now I'm off to find that famous tower of Dover you told us about! Happy foraging."
Anyway, onto the football. It was a very dull first half of football with neither side really impressing. There was no shortage of committment and effort from our players but we certainly looked to be lacking in quality, particularly up top where James Walker didn't impress. They probably had the better of the chances with their ugly headbanded shithouse number 6 threatening from set-pieces and we looked suspect at the back at times. Shane Huke has personally never really impressed me much and got caught out of position a lot of times.
We never really went close in the first half other than Ed Harris heading wide from a corner. Then Purcell could have closed in on goal but miscontrolled the ball at the vital moment. A very dull first half meant the game had 0-0 written all over it and that's the way it seemed to be heading.
The majority of us dodged going into the bar at half-time because it seemed like it would be a lot of hassle. I had 3 flags that I needed to set up for the second half and along with already having a bottle of budweiser remaining in my bag, I needn't bother spending more money in their bar.
Some of us decided we were going to sit in their tinpot stand on the far side as it was completely unpopulated there. There was a sign saying it was another 2 fucking quid to transfer in there, but nobody was there to collect money and we assembled in there anyway. (Yeah - we're really hard!). It was nice and cosy here for us even though passing stewards kept on staring at us. None of them decided it would be worth the hassle in attempting to remove us though.
 |
| Only about 15 of us assembled in the kent-league esque stand. We look like your typical gaggle of non-league freaks. |
We were pretty pants at the start of the second and continued to be over-run in midfield. Salisbury went close with headers from a couple of corners and then had a golden chance to take the lead. I think it was either Huke or Starkey that made an slip in midfield and we found outselves outnumbered four on one at the back. Ruiz did well to block from the initial shot but the loose ball fell straight to one of their attackers with an open goal to shoot at. Lucky Tom Wynter got himself in the right place to throw himself in front of the ball and we one of the most best and unlikiest escapes since Dunkerque in 1940.
Soon after new loan signing from G******ham, James Rance was introduced for James Walker which enabled Terry Dixon to push upfront and later Tom Wynter took a knock and had to be replaced by Bricknell, which was a bold move on our part and eventually paid dividends.
Barry Cogan played a nice through ball which set Dixon through on goal and his shot was just parried wide by their goalkeeper, which the referee and linesman somehow awarded a goal-kick for. To be honest, I thought Dixon looked a couple of paces offside anyway.
Salisbury then had a few further chances to break the deadlock and half-volled at Ruiz from close range.
We were then awarded a dangerous looking free-kick late on when Purcell, who put in a tireless display down the left hand side, was tripped just inches outside the box on the left hand-side. This gave us a dangerous set-piece which Cogan curled way over the bar which infuriated most of us. Just cross it or fire it low accross the box and hope it worms its way in - anything but completely waste one of our few genuine chances. And some people wonder why Cogan is made to be a scapegoat at times when he produces crap like that.
But thankfully at this point where we all thought it was destined to not be our day, Cogan made amends a few minutes later with the match winning cross. He quickly took a corner short to Purcell who exchange another pass with him. His cross into the far post was perfect and sub Bricknell was there on hand to nod the ball into a gaping net. Cue pandemonium from our tinpot stand. I leap-frogged over the stand and sprinted (yes you read that right - I sprinted) down the side to celebrate near the players with so much joy over what appeared to be a smash-and-grab late winner. Thankfully you can't see me on the highlights - nor can you see Russell stacking it and falling to the floor in the same manouever as I but that was a real fucking brilliant moment and a timely reminder of why I do sometimes love football.
Sadly this 86th minute goal was not as late into the game as I initially thought and it would be a nervy final 8 minutes for us, after the referee somehow found 4 minutes injury time. We had nearly blown it when a terrible backwards header let in ex-Stevenage striker Charlie Griffin but he volley straight at Ruiz and injured himself in the process. What a relief.
We nearly got that elusive second goal when Jemal Johnson was freed on the counter attack but his fierce drive was well palmed out by their goalkeeper.
Then in the final minute of the game a handball by Cogan I think, allowed them a free-kick right on the edge of the area. I've never felt as tense and nervous as I did at this point so I was overwhelmed with relief when their free kick bounced back out from the stanction. It looked like it was going in.
The final whistle was met with joyous scenes from our tinpot away following. Ruiz came over to us and shook a few hands as did some of the other players and we celebrated a much needed win. As fickle as I am, i'm aware this result will probably lead to nothing and it wasn't a fantastic performance, but we grinded out a win on a fairly long journey so you have to savour the moment. Winning games, in whatever the situation, is always a fucking fantastic feeling and if you don't lap it up then you might as well give up the ball game and follow a shit sport like rugby or cricket instead.
 |
| Greeting the final whistle by consoling Russell with a manly hug. |
3 Points = Operation get wankered time. But with Salisbury ground being a mile away from the town Russell immedietly ordered our taxi to collect us within ten minutes. It did leave us enough time to have a swift half in their bar, which we duly did.
As I entered their bar I cockily exclaimed "Please make room for the winners. Once again the French triumph the English". To which one of their four fingered oddited came over to me and said "Oiiii! You scamp. Could you not be a grayyyyyshous winnerrrrr?" sadly I managed to fluff my comeback line, which I'm sure would've probably have been brilliant.
After a brief beer, brief chat with Dave and farewells to the other Dover fans, our cab had arrived. So we got the taxi to drop us off at Sainsburys, where we needed to pick up some much needed energy drinks to finish off the remaining of our jaigermeister, along with some beers and whatever other condiments everybody else required.
Fantastically we also managed to power-walk to the station in time for the 17:47 out of Salisbury even after Dave Waterfield had stayed in our cab straight to the station to make that train.
Now I can't remember much about this journey other than necking a shit load of jaigermeister. I had a further 10 odd Jaigerbombs on this journey which was a fantastic idea. Considering how much we managed to get out of that throughout the day it was certainly a worthwhile investment in hindsight. I think we're planning on doing the same for Basingstoke next week.
But no, I can't recall much significant of this journey other than being bouyant and probably being generally annoying loud twats to the rest of the carriadge.
 |
| Polishing off the rest of the jaigermeister. |
 |
| Jaroid in his retard pose. |
It felt like a long fucking while before we rocked up back in Waterloo on a slighter slower train journey than the one up there. And when we arrived there we had nearly an hour til our connection to Dover so we decided to complete a task we were denied of earlier on in the day; have a drink in The Hole In The Wall. After walking through Waterloo station FEARLESSLY belting out Dover songs including a random "Bricknell 86! Bricknell, Bricknell 86" we arrived in one of the few London pubs im actually quite keen on.
I went back on the fizzy yellow stuff in here though i'm afraid; Becks Vier to be precise. They have run out of my favoured bitburger in here so I sadly had to make do. I was pretty fucking hammered by here and I remember epicly failing on the quiz machine, which certainly wouldn't happen were I sober. I also spoke to some Charlton fans who were returning from their late win at Bournemouth. Amazingly they seemed to know who we were and what division we play in, although this was no doubt helped by Welling being their feeder club.
One of our lot also kept dropping some rancid farts here, leading to a witch hunt to find out the guilty party. I think Josh later admitted he was the guilty culprit. Too little too late IMO.
We bidded fairwell to ginger Johnathan Pring here sadly, who lives near Shepherd's Bush. He must have been quite pissed himself here if he had agreed to have another pint in our company! So we eventually headed back up to the Waterloo East station, again FEARLESSLY and TRIBALLY singing Dover songs in which we relished the "who the fucking hell are they?" looks you get amongst the general public.
The 2 hour odd journey back into Dover her was LOOOOOONG. It seemed to take forever going past all these pointless villages like Marden, Staplehurst, Pluckley and Folkestone to name a few. Russell eventually deserted us at Ashford to get a train to Canterbury West, having failed to pay me for his share of the jaigermeister. Russell is one of those really annoying people that comes unprepared in every department. He turned up with no beer and repeatedly hardly every brings any cash on him because he's always forgetting to go to the cash machine. Its the same with every away game seemingly.
A long journey was made worse by everyone else having run out of alcohol except for the well prepared enigma that is me. This led to repeated scrounge requests which I turned down, not out of being an arsehole but making people learn from their mistakes and to be PREPARED.
It was relief to get back into our beloved home town gone 10PM though, with most of us being extremely hungry. Well, I had a particular case out of everyone having only eaten a rancid burger and a few prawn crackers all day. Thus we agreed on getting a chinese. We all purchased one of the set meals that they have while I further purchased chips in curry sauce, further signalling my attentions. With Dad out in York for the weekened, Josh, Jared and Doddy came back to mine to eat our respective foods. I could only eat half of my massive plate which led to a very nice breakfast to look forward to in the morning.
A great day out, one of my favourites of the season, was compounded by a few games of FIFA amongst the remainder of us lads. I really hate people that make idle boasts, so I will not make reference to the 9-2 pounding I dished out to Kieran and thumping Jared in the 4 match ups that we had, despite being fucking trolleyed. Jared eventually stayed over with me but Kieran, fair play to him, headed off into town to the Funky Munky with a few people he knew. Then Josh made an exit, but left his market jam at my house somewhere, idiot.
As I say though, fantastic day. I've always said you can have a good day out regardless of a football result but when you do come away with that elusive 3 points, it makes it ten times better. We were fucking bouyant.
So Chelmsford at home awaits us tomorrow night. If we do pull off a shock result by beating them my fickleness scale will soar right through the roof. It will put us right in the mix. Should we lose, it will certainly kill off our play off hopes. In the majority of our important games this season we keep on churning out dire performances so i'm not very expectant but fingers crossed we will keep our slim play-off hopes alive.
So I'll see you all at Crabble tomorrow for a very important game. Make or break time.
.
| Saturday 03 Mar 2012 | |||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Chelmsford | 1 | - | 0 | Hampton & Richmond | |
 Rainford (61) |
 821 |
||||
| Eastleigh | 0 | - | 1 | Farnborough | |
| Page (68) |
652 |
||||
| Havant and W | 2 | - | 4 | Boreham Wood | |
 Jones (34) Ramsey (54) |
Vilhete (38) Vilhete (03) Noto (45) Noto (63) |
580 |
|||
| Salisbury | 0 | - | 1 | Dover | |
| Bricknell (87) |
695 |
||||
| Staines Town | 0 | - | 2 | Basingstoke | |
| Sills (04) Pratt (88) |
411 |
||||
| Thurrock | 0 | - | 1 | Sutton Utd | |
| Vassell (86) |
299 |
||||
| Tonbridge Angels | 0 | - | 1 | Dartford | |
| Champion (19) |
1,139 |
||||
| Truro City | 0 | - | 2 | Eastbourne Borough | |
| Hart (37) Crabb (45) |
493 |
||||
| Welling | 2 | - | 1 | Bromley | |
| Kinch (26) Cracknell (78) |
Araba (51) |
788 |
|||
| Weston-S-Mare | 0 | - | 4 | Dorchester | |
| Nichols (14) Critchell (23) Malson (46) Dovell (74) |
303 |
||||
| Woking | 0 | - | 2 | Maidenhead Utd | |
 Binns (85) |
Behzadi (72) Strutton (74) |
1,777 | |||
Blue Sq South Table - March 5 2012
| Pos | Team | P | W | D | L | F | A | GD | Pts | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 |  |
Woking | 31 | 21 | 6 | 4 | 61 | 27 | 34 | 69 |
| 2 |  |
Dartford | 30 | 19 | 6 | 5 | 67 | 31 | 36 | 63 |
| 3 | |
Welling United | 31 | 18 | 6 | 7 | 63 | 42 | 21 | 60 |
| 4 | |
Chelmsford | 31 | 16 | 10 | 5 | 55 | 28 | 27 | 58 |
| 5 | |
Sutton United | 30 | 16 | 9 | 5 | 55 | 39 | 16 | 57 |
| 6 | |
Dover | 29 | 12 | 11 | 6 | 45 | 29 | 16 | 47 |
| 7 | |
Basingstoke Town | 30 | 12 | 9 | 9 | 48 | 39 | 9 | 45 |
| 8 | |
Dorchester | 31 | 13 | 6 | 12 | 46 | 45 | 1 | 45 |
| 9 | |
Eastleigh | 32 | 13 | 6 | 13 | 46 | 45 | 1 | 45 |
| 10 | |
Weston-S-Mare | 31 | 13 | 4 | 14 | 50 | 56 | -6 | 43 |
| 11 | |
Farnborough | 31 | 12 | 5 | 14 | 44 | 59 | -15 | 41 |
| 12 | |
Boreham Wood | 30 | 11 | 7 | 12 | 39 | 44 | -5 | 40 |
| 13 | |
Tonbridge Angels | 30 | 10 | 8 | 12 | 51 | 52 | -1 | 38 |
| 14 | |
Salisbury City | 31 | 9 | 9 | 13 | 40 | 44 | -4 | 36 |
| 15 | |
Truro City | 31 | 10 | 6 | 15 | 47 | 60 | -13 | 36 |
| 16 |  |
Maidenhead United | 31 | 10 | 6 | 15 | 38 | 55 | -17 | 36 |
| 17 | |
Havant and Waterlooville | 30 | 8 | 9 | 13 | 51 | 56 | -5 | 33 |
| 18 | |
Bromley | 31 | 8 | 8 | 15 | 44 | 58 | -14 | 32 |
| 19 | |
Eastbourne Borough | 29 | 8 | 7 | 14 | 43 | 51 | -8 | 31 |
| 20 | |
Staines Town | 31 | 8 | 6 | 17 | 36 | 52 | -16 | 30 |
| 21 | |
Hampton & Richmond | 29 | 5 | 9 | 15 | 38 | 53 | -15 | 24 |
| 22 | |
Thurrock | 32 | 3 | 9 | 20 | 25 | 67 | -42 | 18 |
No comments:
Post a Comment