Staying in Bristol for the Weston-Super-Mare game had been on the cards for a few months prior to the game. It's a city that I have never been too yet wanted to visit, so I booked up a travelodge room for me and Russell a few months back (£35 each, for two nights - not bad). Soon after another 6 lads followed suit, albeit 4 of them staying in a random 5 star hotel somewhere else in the city because it worked out cheaper than our hotel! And it seems like there was no real catch for them either. But lets be honest - who really cares about a hotel when you're spending a weekend away?
Anyway, Martyn Mcgarrigle sadly had to pull out for personal reasons so it was just myself, Russ, Fish, Jared, Alex Wilshaw, Sappo and Josh Watkins that made our way to the capital of the West Country.
On the initial booking of the trip most of us were optimistic we would have something to play for down there or we would already have wrapped up a play-off spot. Sadly, thanks to us being utterly fucking cack this never materialised. But in a way I was quite pleased about this - we could enjoy the weekend without football being a blemish on the whole experience as deep down, losing feebly at Truro did put a dampener on my weekend in Newquay early this season. The stress of losing and being on the lash all day also proved costly on the evening of the Saturday if you refer back to that blog and I ended up having a shit night. This also proved the case when we stayed in Manchester for Huddersfield away. So I was hoping that football wouldn't cause too much of a distraction and effect my night out. Would it? We'll find out after the break.
Waking up early on Friday morning I felt like a 9 year old boy opening up his new scaletrix set at Christmas. I've barely had any proper nights out since 2012 was born so the thought of spending a weekend away with the lads in a city reknowned for great nightlife really appealed to me and my excitement grew in the days leading to it.
So my first call of action upon
As I don't live in Dover like the rest of the lucky bastards, I agreed to meet them at Ebbsfleet International as it was much easier for me, so I had a few quiet beers to myself on route while chuckling at the ineptness of FourFourTwo journalism, which rates Izale Mcleod as the 13th best players in the football league. He's not even the 13th best player in League 2!
Anyway, I hopped on their train about half 11 to be greeted by my usual raptous reception that I normally receive. The others looked like they were in great spirits - bar Jared who was feeling fragile from a session in Canterbury the previous night. But Sappo and Fish had been in the weatherspoons early doors and had already sunk quite a few bottles of tuborg between them by the time I arrived.
I then learned that they had already made some snobby old bint to move down the train because Sappo kept on loudly bellowing "Right, so I pulled the condom out of my arse but I carried on anyway!". So that already set the tone for a lively journey up.
Arriving in St Pancras the first duty was for me to empty my under-strain bladder, having forgotten to do so at Ebbsfleet. Then we met Josh Watkins who had travelled from his uni flat in Greenwich before hopping on the underground to get to Paddington.
This marked the QUICKEST I HAVE EVER HAD TO WAIT TO BUY AN UNDERGROUND TICKET (only to be beaten on the way home) and MY FIRST EVER TIME TRAVELLING ON THE HAMMERSMITH AND CITY LINE. Two amazing life events right there for you.
I've actually grown into quite liking the underground. Although its full of the typical pushing, rushing, rude scum that inhabit London, I find it quite interesting studying all the maps as a semi-train geek enthusiast. I used to be pretty fearful of getting on the underground a few years after the 7/7 bomings but i've now fully overcome that irrational fear.
Once we arrived into Paddington our mood dampened when we learned that every single train was either delayed or cancelled. Then we soon discovered that this was a result of somebody throwing themselves in front of a train at a nearby stop called Southall (?).
I have no problem with people committing suicide but throwing yourself in front of a train is so fucking selfish it is unreal. I don't buy into this argument that their mind must be so fragile that they don't know what they're doing. Its just so undignified. Why not think about the poor bastard train driver that has to suffer the trauma and feel like they are in some way responsible? Never mind the thousands of us that need to travel places to be somewhere. I suppose this is a discussion to be had at another place or time but for fuck sake, if you're going to do it then do it in private and where somebody who is used to discovering bodies can find you instead of some other poor fucker.
We already had at least another half hour in Paddington before our 1PM departure time but we had no idea when it would be leaving or whether we could try to hop on the delayed one before us. But needless to say the correct action was to pop into the small pub inside the station for the first proper pint of the day. For a pub inside a London main train station it was surprisingly reasonably priced. We managed to get a pitcher of Amstel for £11 which contained just over about 4 pints worth. Although I think you could tell why it was so cheap - it tasted really watered down and slightly off for what is supposed to be a luxurious Belgian beer.
We had to gulp down the remaining halves of our pint when we discovered that our train was actually one of the few that was now boarding. With the previous one being cancelled, we knew there would be mass competition for seats so we dashed onto the platform and thankfully managed to get 6 unreserved seats next to each other. BUZZING!
 |
| So enthusiastic for the weekend ahead! |
 |
| Is that Sappo or Kermit the frog? I can't quite work out. |
 |
| Josh flexing his |
This train journey to Bristol was a magnificient one where we were not even the loudest and most obnoxious group on the train. There were a group of lads nearby us that spent the entire journey in the doorway bit where the toilets are just getting pissed up, smoking and singing random football songs (although we couldn't fathom out who they supported).
In contrast we were just loud and annoying in the main seating. Alex Wilshaw had to take an absolute pasting from us. As the quetiest member of our group we'd constantly try to wind him up with ironic shouts of "Oh Alex will you just please shut the fuck up and be quiet" and "Come on Alex, there are other people on this train so show some consideration" and other similar comments of that ilk while he was sitting there peacefully reading my FFT magazine and his earphones plugged in. It was a good way of testing his strength of character and over the course of the weekend (it remained one of our on-going jokes) he took it pretty well, although he did indicate a few times that he might crack.
Watkins also took a hammering but this was instead for his obsessive love of trains - yes he is a genuine train spotter and had a suscription to Trains Weekly or something. His trivual knowledge of trains is as obsessively strong as mine is of football, honestly.
So we kept on doing impressions of him masturbating (not literally I hasten to add) while calling out several parts of a train. I.E "Oooh, look at that leather interior of that B35 model London Midlands Train" and all other sorts.
It might sound immature but it was pretty funny at the time. Well I think so anyway.
The train didn't actually run too smoothly. Despite only leaving about 8 minutes late from Paddington, we actually arrived about 50 minutes late because of how slow our train was running for the first part of the journey. Up until we got to Didcot the train couldn't have been going faster than a maximum of 30MPH. You could tell the difference when I was sticking my head out of the window peacefully in comparison to the extreme force later on.
Anyway, a great BANTZ filled train up that included everything from Jared trying and failing to chat up the MILF train guard, Fish putting a banana skin in some bloke's jacket pocket and myslef polishing off all 7 cans that I took with me. The others were so unprepared that they had to buy beers from the severely overpriced trolley service. GUTTED!!!!
When we rocked up outside Bristol Temple Meads at about half 3 the horrendous pissing weather was not what we had hoped for when we had booked months early. I guess you could say it was naive to think that the likelyhood of having severe rain by late April was slim but its just one of those things you have to live and get on with I guess.
So with the torrential rain ahead of us we (Me, Fish and Jared) opted not to walk and try and find our chavelodge hotel using my trusted printed google map directions, instead hopping into what was the first of several taxis we used that weekend. Given it seemed a lot longer than the estimated 20 minute walk that was being suggested it was definately a good idea. I'd rather chip in a couple of quid than waste valuable weekend time.
For the Bristol "Central" Travelodge it wasn't right in the centre but it was reasonably well located, just down the road from a sealife aquarium of all places.
The rooms themselves were fine, quite spacious, comfortably and clean, which is essentially all you need for a hotel room. My only real qualm that that they didn't provide enough coffee and milk sachets and didn't give us any new ones when we returned on Saturday. Oh and the bath was horrendously small aswell but that's something that I can cope with.
I went up to Jared and Fish's room (which was on the 3rd floor while ours was on the 1st) for a quick cuppa and laughed at how much smaller their room was compared to ours. Then like true heroes, we decided to battle through the rain and head into town where the shopping centre was to pick up some grub and any other essentials.
I'm not really the biggest lover of retail therapy in the world, as you can see by my very plain and uninspiring 'style'. But what I am a fan of is KFC, which was the first place we went to after entering one of the big shopping centres. I'm not actually a big lover of most of the major fast-food chains but KFC is one of the few that I do really enjoy because chicken is AWESOME. A big daddy burger meal certainly did the trick of not being too over-filling and bloated but enough to keep me satisfied for the rest of the day.
We then had a look round the shops because Sappo had just received his first pay packet from his reasonably well-paid new job (as well as his part-time hours at Morrisons - sigh) so he was keen to blow as much out as he possibly could. He even dragged us into New Look because it had a mens section - how embarrassing.
All I wanted to do was to stop off at the primark because it is apparently the second biggest in the country. And it was indeed fucking huge - perfect for council scratter types like myself!
It didn't stop them having only 3 fucking staff on when I queued to purchase my newly acquired coat, plimsoles and a pack of 3 boxer shorts. And this queue was made even slower by some bint who literall had two massive baskets clad full of their cheap clobber which is made immorally from modern day slavery.
Well that was me done anyway after those 3 pints and a £1 bottle of shower gel that I nabbed from Poundland. Now it was just time to wait for Russell the Love Muscle to arrive in town, as he was arriving on a later train from Grottingham. And his small frame but massive head eventually popped up from a bus and we were ready to head back to our respective hotels.
I was fortunate enough to pop into a random newsagents en route to buy a quick drink, only to discover they were also selling 20 pack's of a new marlboro product for £5, which is sadly a bargain in this day and age. As well as having a cool pack design they tasted pretty decent too. Win-win all round.
Back in our hotel room we got to have the exciting moment of checking our Euro 2012 sticker doubles and managed to successfully complete some swapsies, which was cool. Yes I know its fucking sad but it unfortunately seems like its one of those things that i'm never going to able to grow out of!
When getting ready to go out I immedietly regretted by decision to buy those shitty cheap plimsoles from primark. I had the dilemma of either looking like a pikey and wearing trainers out or wearing my newly purchased tacky shoes. Unfortunately I plumped for the latter and had to suffer my jeans keep scrapping on the floor. NEVER AGAIN.
So we headed out about 7 to find some of the drinking establishments and eventually settled on Walkabout which was not too far away from us. If you've never heard of walkabout, its basically a chain, a cheap student bar with an Australian theme that also has sky sports, music and food going on. It was nowhere near the size or as good as the one we went to in Newquay but it did sell pints of Foster's for £2.20. The other's complained about how flat there's were but to be fair my two pints were not that bad. I just didn't like those horrible plastic pint glasses that you have to drink out of. They don't feel right.
The highlight here was some pissed up cokehead approaching us and asking us who we were and where we were from blah blah. He then explained that he was from Swansea and that he didn't take an interest in their club until they got promoted because "I'm a Liverpool fan but you have to support them when you're in the premier league, don't ya". Cue ironic responses of 'yeah, of course' while I just sat there face-palming.
As I returned from downstairs just having had a really dodgy turd, the '5 star' lot had turned up just as we were ready to leave. Sappo impressively managed to down a bottle of Rose within about 5 minutes, as we headed accross the road to go to a place called 'All Bar One'.
Now this is another chain place apparently but i've never heard of it before. It was quite upmarket with a relaxed atmosphere in there so I rather enjoyed it. Most of us piled on the Estrella, a beautiful premium Spanish Lager which doesn't come cheap at £3.70 pop.
After much BANTEROUS on-goings in there we moved next door to another chain pub, this one being a more common place called Weatherspoons.
It wasn't the most impressive 'spoons i've ever been in. It had a strange rectangular bar where it took ages to get served, while the tables were unclean and filfthy.
By the time we got served me and Russell were not particularly impressed with our respective cocktail pitchers (I turn to the more poofier drinks when i'm on a night out. No shame in that). His mojito one tasted pathetically weak, while my strawberry dacquiri didn't taste much stronger, although it tasted more alcoholic towards the bottom.
I sunk the pitcher within about 10 minutes because I fancied something to tick me over the edge a bit, so ordered a jaigerbomb, an alcopop and a pint of tuborg. I turboed the latter two and it seemed to do a good job.
The award for 'biggest lightweight' here was evidently Watkins, who seemed hammered before we even arrived in here. And Sappo seemed pretty half-cut aswell, which is a rarity. That wine-necking must of done a number on him!
From here onwards we decided where we would go clubbing, which was a place called the O2 Academy. We had a few slags come up to us in the street to hand out fliers to strip club's and despite being an ugly cunt who will never get laid, I was quite quick to dismiss the idea although a few of the others seemed keen.
Upon arriving outside the O2 I wasn't keen at the sight of a massive queue but we joined it anyway. What I hate most about clubbing is the amount of student vermin types. I do fucking hate students; everything about them and the way they act. Sappo kept telling the queue jumpers to the back of line to not much avail.
But we stuck out in the queue and actually didn't take much longer than 20 minutes to get in which was pretty impressive considering the size of it, and much of a relief given how desperate for a wazz I was.
It did take ages to get served at the bar in there though Russell used his small frame to squeeze in front at the queue and order me my pint of tuborg and fizzy alcopop shite. Its a dog-eat-dog world in clubs, so many selfish cunts looking out for themselves that you have to throw your manners in the bin because there are so many arseholes.
The first 20 or so minutes in there we weren't particularly impressed. There was just one dancefloor and the place absolutely fucking rammed. After a short while we were contemplating leaving the club to find somewhere elsewhere but eventually decided to stick it out (except for Fish and Jared - who fucked off elsewhere).
Thankfully it was a great decision and we got proper into it. The Bass in there was so fucking loud and the DJ was absolutely awesome, spot on in all of his choices. When the seven nation army song came on we were the sort of cunts that got over-hyped and started singing "we're the black and white army". What sort of saddoes incorporate football songs on their nights out?
But yeah, the music and vibe was incredible in there and me and Russ were glued to the dancefloor. That was until I read a text from Watkins who said that they were back in walkabout and we should join the others in there.
Well, me and Russ needed a break but this was a bad decision. We soon found out outside that we would not be allowed re-admission into the club and when we arrived outside walkabout we discovered that they were not allowing any entrants in there and Fish and Jared were on their way out.
So a true facepalm and inbetweeners-esque moment. That gave me three vital lessons for the future: 1) Don't listen to Josh, 2) Do not read text messages unless you're lost, 3) Don't leave a club if you're really enjoying it in there! As it was gone 2pm nowhere else was admitting people so it was basically the end of our evening.
Not the end of the world as we had another day ahead of us, which we would now be in relative good condition for but considering how up I was for staying out it was quite a sour note to end the night on.
Instead we just went to this string of takeaway shops and I ended up purchasing a kebab, even though I fucking hate the things, but still managed to devour the lot when we got back to our hotel room. Its strange what you'll eat when you've had a few!
Despite falling asleep at around 3AM in my luxurious double bed next to the luxurious Russell Laughton, when I woke up at 6:45AM I was unable to sleep any further winks, despite my alarm being set for 9. My sleeping pattearns are so routine that it always makes it difficult to sleep beyond a reasonable time!
So instead of letting Russell peacefully sleep away, I decided to bring him down with me by constantly letting off discusting farts that were so loud "they could probably wake the neighbours" and I also dived onto the bed at full speed, thus nearly bouncing him through the roof.
And so it was football day and one we were quite excited for. Why so? Because it was the chance for one final blow-out and we could just have a laugh without caring about the result. We'd also had a pre-arranged agreement that we would all wear suits for the occasion and for once, it actually came off. Well, except for Russell who is a useless incompetent git although he made up for it by wearing his new Richard Keys 'Smash it' t-shirt.
 |
| Ready for the funeral, R.I.P Dover Athletic's season. |
As you can see, here I am wearing a Morrisons work t-shirt for nostalgic reasons, as well as an old man's blazer made from tweed, which cost £3.99 from a charity shop (embarrassingly I recently wore this to a job interview. I didn't get the job) and a Dover Athletic tie. The reasoning behind this was to try and get into the ground free impersonating a director (which was successfully achieved numerous years ago at Godalming) but sadly this never materialised as we all bottled it.
We set off nice and early to weatherspoons for breakfast which turned out to be a well-called decision. I was keen to try out one of their new gourmet burger range and thus ordered a chicken mexican burger to go along with my much needed pint of tuborg. The others just went for the weatherspoons large breakfast, which I did warn them wouldn't be too great.
I think the others were envious as my burger turned up at the table (about 25 minutes after we first ordered) as they looked on at the wonderful combination of a bun, a big chicken breast, onion rings, guacomole, salsa and jalapenos, along with melted cheddar. And oh my, what a fantastic combination it was. Truely highly reccomended to all you burger enthusiasts out there.
Meanwhile, Fish and Russell's breakfasts appeared to be cold while the egg was tough and looked like it was made out of plastic. I certainly won the war here.
Oh yeah. There was also a car and bike show or something going on here. I'm not really the Jeremy Clarkson type (in-fact I can't stand the bigoted, long-faced, right-wing, offensive arsehole) but there was some very impressed old school motors and bangers about. Some of you would have loved it but I'm not really a car enthusiast and I wasn't sad enough to take some photos just to appease you lot.We set off nice and early to weatherspoons for breakfast which turned out to be a well-called decision. I was keen to try out one of their new gourmet burger range and thus ordered a chicken mexican burger to go along with my much needed pint of tuborg. The others just went for the weatherspoons large breakfast, which I did warn them wouldn't be too great.
I think the others were envious as my burger turned up at the table (about 25 minutes after we first ordered) as they looked on at the wonderful combination of a bun, a big chicken breast, onion rings, guacomole, salsa and jalapenos, along with melted cheddar. And oh my, what a fantastic combination it was. Truely highly reccomended to all you burger enthusiasts out there.
Meanwhile, Fish and Russell's breakfasts appeared to be cold while the egg was tough and looked like it was made out of plastic. I certainly won the war here.
 |
| So fucking good I had to take a picture of it! |
So after this we set off about getting to the station for the 10:52 train into Weston and after stocking up on more cheap fags from the newsagents we hopped into a taxi straight there to meet the others.
Here there was a steam train perched on one of the platforms, waiting to depart to Plymouth. And Josh Watkins and a load of other sad train-spotters began blowing their beans over what is apparently a "really exciting and fun day out. It only costs £80." We then began trolling him over how shit steam trains are and how draining they are on natural resources and the environment. Of course we were taking the piss as I guess steam trains are quite quaint and nostalgic but not something worth getting an erection over.
 |
| Suited and booted for the big occasion.... |
 |
| ....Except for this twat |
 |
| One worth blowing your load over. |
We were in our pissing about mood on this train and it was quite funny. Josh took another pasting through all his facepalm worthy quips which led to repeatedly ask for a shotgun.
Which reminds me, I had earlier in the morning found out on facebook that I had been appointed the new leader of the jollyboys seeing as Champ was not going to the game and thus I began calling myself the new 'Sheriff'. And so power got to my head throughout the day and I would try not to respond to anybody that did not address me by that term. This is something that will continue through to next season so get used to it boys. I am your new leader and a worthy one that. "New sheriff in town, new sheriff in town, Callum is our leader, new sheriff in town". Its a role that I am so far really enjoying and thriving in so far.
The funniest moment on the train though was when Russell was chuckling over something and I said to him "Russ, I don't know why you're laughing" and I got up, bent over his face and blasted out the most discusting, vile fart you could possibly imagine. It was one that had the others in a mixture of laughter but trying to gasp for air at the same time. The windows had to be opened up just to try and extinguish the lingering kebab/kfc smell from my bumhole, having still got gone for that essential Saturday morning poo at this point.
As the perpetrator behind the fart though, it was one I was extremely proud of.
Now Alex, will you shut the fuck up there are other people on this train!
We arrived in Weston in good spirits then, despite the miserable looking weather outside. As the new sheriff it was my role to lead my desciples (not sure why I kept on using an irrelevent religous term but hey ho) into the first pub. This was a very small, strange one just outside the station that was actually connected to the next door station coffee shop and was actually accessible by the station platform.
I couldn't be arsed for any of that real ale bollocks this weekend and just remained on the fizzy lager shite, engaging in some carlsberg instead. Sounded like a good decision because the "Keep English And Carry On" ale that the other's had was apparently not the nicest around.
Phil Packet Smudger Smith also met us here along with his girlfriend Claire, as they were staying in the actual town we were playing. He reccomended the curry house nearby and said how amazing it was, something we would be able to testify ourselves later on. But we didn't speak for too long because we wanted to set about finding another pub.
 |
| Cheers lads |
 |
| If you look beyond the gorilla you can see this shop I was talking about. |
And thus we walked to the seafront to find this strip of pubs that we had heard about. But the whole place did not look pleasant at all. I don't know if its because it was freezing or not, but the place reminded me of Margate. Another shit decaying seaside town with loads of shops boarded up over the place rather than the leafy somerset feel that I was expecting. As we walked accross the seafront I was quite surprised to see a few donkeys on the beach!
We were on the hunt for a 'proper pub' but after wasting lots of VDT searching we eventually settled on a sports bar. As non-member we had to sign in so obviously I used the fake name of the legendary Dovorian character called Boxhead, while using a fake address from Herne Bay. And because we weren't members we had to pay really random prices for our pints - £3.32 a Fosters!
It wasn't too bad in here though to be fair. I know they're not everybody's cup of tea but it was very spacious and comfortable, had plenty of tables and lots of TV's showing both the Southampton v Coventry and West Ham v Hull City, so I was chuffed to bits to see Billy Sharp set the Saints on their way to promotion.
I had a few rare games of pool in here, first of all against Josh Watkins in one of those "battle of who is the shittest" type games, which I somehow ended up triumphant after Josh somehow missed various sitters to pot the black pool. After a painfully drawn out affair I punished him for his errors.
Then I came up against Fish who was destroying all competition in sight (he is a very good player and plays for a team). I only managed to get 2 shots in, luckily potting one ball in the process as he just swept me aside with ease.
We had a few more Dovorians join us here; Andy Makin, Gemma, Gary and some bird called Shelley that i've never heard of. They were also staying the weekend over in Weston, as probably were at least 50% of our travelling 'support'.
After a couple of pints we continued our theme of going to shit unoriginal pubs (to be fair, there didn't look like there was anything else around) and headed to the seafront weatherspoons, which was quite a nice one I have to say.
At this point I thought "hmmm only an hour and a half til kick off and i'm still not pissed" so ordered 3 bottles of VK (yes, gay alchopops) and a bottle of baltika. And thus I began to strawpedo all 3 bottles within about a minute. (Strawpedo is just putting a straw in the bottle, squeezing it and the downing the drink, because it makes it easier). It gave me quite a bit of brain-freeze but certainly gave me that much needed kick.
We then all crowded round the quiz machine to play some game we've never heard of which was lamely named "footy quiz". And on the first go we couldn't believe how easy it was and how basic the questions were. Jared managed to get a fiver return on the first go, only just narrowly missing the jackpot. Sadly it got a bit more difficult from then onwards but I think had we stayed there all day we could have really smashed its coffers!
We then all hopped in a taxi's to ground at about 2:15 to Woodspring Park, a fairly dull and uninspiring, sparsely populated and basic ground but it is alright. I was speaking to our pleasant but fairly simple taxi driver about the football club and he admitted that nobody really cares about them, they're more interested in thugby down this way. You can see that whenever you enter their ground.
Their bar is immedietly outside the ground so we popped in here for our final pre-match beers before the MASSIVE game ahead of us. A total of TWO Dover fans were in the bar when we rocked in about half 2. (Hi Reg and Andy Fisher).
But I managed to neck two pints in this short period before kick-off thanks to Josh having a spare free one from the barrel running out near the end of his first one poured. My strong drinking credentials show why I am rightly being looked up to as the sheriff.
They also had one of those table football things so we all crowded round that and took a position each. I as goalkeeper, and the sheriff, lead our team to a stunning 7-3 victory after initially going behind.
 |
| One rare Dover appearence was a pleasant old boy called 'Moth', an exile from Aylesbury and also someone who was staying in WSM for the weekend. |
So yeah, this was the Sheriff's (please excuse myself referring to myself in third person but I am the sheriff and can do what I want) first ever season of completing all 42 league games. My previous best is 40 in 06/07 and I usually miss between 3-5, so its pleasing as an anorak to finally say I've done 100% of league games. Its a shame that I've missed a Kent Senior Cup game and a mid-season friendly but I think you can let the sheriff off for that one.
Anyway, we headed behind the goal for their one impressive stand in the ground, a very impressive covered terrace which is obviously too over-sized for Weston.
Too over-sized for our away support as well. I chuckled at how pitiful our following was - probably in the region of 40 fans. Earlier in the week our supporters coach got cancelled for the first time since we've started running them. You can't blame people for not wanting to miss such a dead-rubber with the team keeping on churning out such half-arsed performances in the arse end of the country. Indeed, most of our support seemed to consist of those of us booked there on pre-planned weekenders along with a couple of exiles.
The train army consisted of four; Camilla, Doddy, Christopher Collings and John Lawlor while there were a few regulars like the Harris's, Matt Clements, Reg and Fisher.
But there were also such a long list of abseentees of diehard regulars that it was quite shocking.
Luckily games aren't won on away support though, they are won on the field. Not that we won this encounter, it finished in a 1-1 draw which continued our unbeaten run away since the 3rd of December. It says a lot of how poor we were at home if we couldn't scramble a play-off spot with that!
The first half just consisted of us singing funny and ironic songs all half about random things. There was a chant of "Starkey, sign a deal" which then degraded into "Starkey, sign for Deal".
And "This is what it's like to be Thurrock, this is what it's like to be small, this is what it's like when your support consists of nothing at all"
And "How shit must we be, how shit must we be, we're below Basingstoke, how shit must we be"
And "One Barry Cogan! Theres only one Barry Cogan"
And "New sheriff in town, new sheriff in town, who needs Leigh Champion, we've got Callum Snell" (Ok I may have created this one to no avail from the others.)
And "Is this burning an eternal flame? Say my name...)
Amongst various other silly things, I don't really remember because it was all one pissed up blur.
I recall us not playing some too bad football in the first half and Harrington looked very assured in being shuffled accross to centre-back. Lee Hook made a rare appearence and pulled off a really fine save. Edmans had our best chance with his powerful header being saved well.
But we were all more concerned with getting pissed like the non-DAFC fans we are so I popped into their bar 5 minutes before half-time, only to discover a load of Weston types in there aswell. Nobody cared!
The sheriff had another pint and a half in here (yes, I am gay enough to order halves when I fancy them). The others seem to have a real inability to neck them back within a time-frame, particularly when we have a second half of football to attend to. So despite my encouragement of them hurrying the fuck so we could go out and enjoy the second half, they seemed more eager to stay in the bar.
Well I had the last laugh anyway. I went outside with enough time to watch Robbie Edmans put us ahead. Bazza Cogan was carrying the ball up the field and waited and waited and waited before threading through a final ball to Edmans who struck a sweet left footed finsih past their goalkeeper. Good work Super Bazza Cogan! And it prompted the others to rush out of the bar, as if they could watch an action replay of the goal or something.
I can remember Terry Dixon missing an absolute sitter soon after, when he broke an offside trap from a free-kick. He had acres of space and should of squared it for two of our en-rushing players but instead shot the ball wide. It was a terrible opportunity missed and sadly gave reinforcement to the directors views that we only need a few goalscorers to become the finished article. Yes, that is what Frank Clarke and Alistair Bayliss seemed to think when they were speaking to Fish and Russell. Apparently our midfield are creating lots but we are not sticking away our chances. Sadly this view seems to be mirrored by our management judging by our retained list released this week, which I will go into more detail when I can be bothered to write an end of season view.
We didn't create much chances after that and eventually squandered our lead from a set-piece. I can't remember it in great detail but it looked like a fine header that squeezed in off the post.
What I do remember though was the 50 odd WSM youth team players congregated behind the goal (which made up about 50% of the home support) turning around and doing the fucking poznan. You all know what the poznan is don't you? That shitty dance thing that Man City adopted from Lechc Poznan and it now is sweeping accross the country like a contagious disease. I know they're only kids but jesus wept, it was horrible to see and horribly tinpot.
I don't recall much goalmouth action at either ends after that and the game petered out relatively slowly with quite a whimper, no thanks to Weston demonstrating some of their fine time-wasting skills that they put on at show at Crabble. It says a lot that their manager Craig Laird said in the press last week that we're a massive club, which shows he clearly views us as a scalp. Quite embarrassing really when you consider how shit our support is.
The only other things I remember in the second half was giving their keeper a load of drunken abuse about our last minute winner at our place and the generic "you're crap" stuff that always gets thrown around. Russell was also lucky to escape getting chucked out when he was caught by their steward pissing in the ground in a spot I was leaking in moments earlier.
Anyway, every single one of our players came over and clapped every single one of us off (all 40) and I uneasily returned the favour despite my less favourable feelings towards some of them. And that was it chaps. The end of a dissapointing season, one of the dullest in quite some while with no memorable footballing moments and only a few legendary away days to remember it by. Good riddance to it I say, we've not been good enough over the course of the season to make a play-off spot when shite like Basingstoke have managed to sneak in. Says it all really.
It hasn't been woeful by any stretch but I am glad to see the back of it and we can look forward to the Euros from here onwards.
Now the season had come to its conclusion it was time to re-enter the bar and continue where we left off: getting smashed. It took a good 10 minutes or so to get served in there as their staff were woefully slow but boy, did it go down well when it arrived.
Some of our players quickly popped by in here and we managed to grab a quick word with George Purcell. Boy does that lad come accross as thick as shit, even by Essex footballer types. He complained about having to play on the left wing in recent months and said he would like to stay with us next season but would like to play in a more attacking role.
Well, come Tuesday he has left the club. Goodbye George, I certainly rated you even if others didn't. I'm sure he will bang goals in at this level for another club next season and prove his doubters wrong.
We stayed in here for a couple of pints but the 5 star lot fucked off early back to Bristol and their hotel, while we opted to get a cab to the Indian restauraunt, Hussains, as Phil had raved about it so much.
 |
| "Hands in the air if you're a wanker" |
 |
| SMASH IT!! |
 |
| Newly appointed DAFC director Brady "Fish" Pay |
 |
| The unlikely lads pose for their last photo of the unforgettable 2011/2012 season |
I was initially a bit sceptical of going out for a curry for a number of reasons. Not because I don't like a curry, in fact I fucking love it with all my heart. It was the fact that I had already spunked a ridiculous amount of money on booze, taxis and cigarettes and I was already way over my planned budget. And then there was the issue of would eating a proper meal make me so bloated that I wouldn't want to go out in the evening.
But a pint of cobra, a pilau rice, a keema naan, a brinjal bhaji, a duck tikka and a £20 bill later, I was loving every single penny that I had spent. The keema naan was packed to the rafters with the beautiful red mince, I love auberjines and in the brinal bhaji they were cooked to perfection while the duck tikka was some of the tastiest meat I have ever devoured. I don't usually go for a dry main dish but I really enjoyed that. I also polished off the rest of Jared's curry, thus strengthening the sheriff's reputation as a human dustbin.
So it was certainly a good decision to eat there, the restauraunt had a laid-back atmosphere and while we were the first people to arrive in there, it was jam packed by the time we left there. And you can see why aswell.
Best of all though I came out of it not feeling too bloated, in fact we had enough time to fit in another pint before our train arrived and I had no problem sticking that away, before we eventually got the train back and a taxi to our hotel, arriving back about 9PM, a bit later than expected.
I'll be honest, by the time we arrived back I was pretty jaded and felt so tempted to just fall asleep while Russell was busying getting ready. I really had to do my best to stick it out.
We eventually headed out to meet the others in All Bar One for another few pints of estrella to get me in the mood for grooving. But it didn't particularly work, I was fearing another "here we go again" moments. It's hard work when you've had to little sleep and you've been on the piss all day at football in another town before having another big night out but luckily I perserved this time.
We soon after went to Syndicate, which we had heard rave reviews about as one of the best club's in Bristol. I found it quite romantic how the £1 entrance fee went straight into a charity box, very unusual for a nightclub.
My mood wasn't improved in here at the bar when Russell was about to get served by the barman before he said "he was here first" pointing to the boy next to him. He didn't thank him or even acknowledging him for doing so. If theres one thing I can't stand its blatant rudeness and nightclub's are sadly full of people like this. The amount of twats that have to play the macho male role by deliberately going out of their way to give you a quick barge is pathetic. I am sound like a miserable git who is too boring beyond his years but this little things really piss me off.
The other type that piss me off are the vile ugly boys that volture around girls and grope them when they're clearly not wanted. At least I know my role and stay away from the women. Well, those above a 3/10 rating anyway.
For the first hour or so I could not get into the groove of things and the club really wasn't doing anything for me. I was sobering up quickly and tiredness was taking over. But then there was a message on the big screen that had been sent in "Come on the Sheriff, liven up a bit the Dover jollyboys are with you" and it just took that and a couple of fucking good tunes to get back into the groove again. I didn't even need more drinks, I was just fucking alive on the music. LAD.
I'll tell you what, I say this a lot of times but the standard of fanny in here was fucking incredible. There were so few munters and so many 8-9/10's that it was just so pleasing on the eye. There was one really hot slag near us that stripped her shirt off just down to her bra and was dancing very provocatively. I think we all ended up getting a stiffy.
No, none us pulled. We are the inbetweeners-esque characters while Alex and Russell have girlfriends anyway. But I had a really good night anyway, there were again some brilliant tunes being played and I was glued to the dancefloor. I am pleased that I managed to stick it out and not pussy off early for once.
I tell you what though, it would be nice to go away for a weekend somewhere without having football being an immediete distraction. Just to recover in bed all day and doing fuck all until the second night.
But leaving the club drenched like a beach whale from sweating bucket loads on the dancefloor, I was pleased to reflect on what had been a fucking good weekend away and had been a superb laugh all around. The only real downside was the weather but that's something we're used to coping with in this country with. And the other tinge of sadness was that the weekend had surpassed so quickly but its one that I will remember for the forseeable future.
I can't really say much happened on the Sunday. I woke up at 9AM and mine + Fish's train was only an hour and a half later so we didn't have much of a chance to say goodbye to Bristol, which had been a fantastic host for us. The city had a mixture of old school buildings with lots of modern shopping centres and it had a really friendly vibe to the place. Its a place I really want to return to next season if I can afford it and we'll have two opportunities to in the form of Bath and Weston away. Although saying that, I quite fancy testing Bath out for a weekender too.
But yeah, me and Fish had quite a quiet journey back on ourselves which involved another delayed train back to Paddington and getting into Herne Bay about nearly 5 hours later. Not that I gave a fuck.
Anyway, that's the end of me for this season. I am probably going to write a big end of season review if I can be arsed to get round to writing it, but I can't promise it will be done in within a set timescale.
In the meanwhile, thank you for being a supportive and fantastic audience. When I started this blog at the beginning of the season I never envisaged I would actually be bothered to write a piece of every single game but somehow I have actually managed it, mainly thanks to a few annoying arseholes that have kept pestering me.
No, but seriously, I never imagined I would have nearly 15,000 views by the end of the season so thanks to everyone who has kept reading and found my blog's entertaining for whatever reason because quite honestly, I get bored of reading my same old tripe. So thank you.
Whether I will continue to write next season I don't know yet, it depends on the circumstances. Quite frankly I imagine I will write on a more sparing basis and mainly for the away games because by now you know what you are getting with one of my home reports; "Went to the OE, got pissed, went to football, it was shit, went out after the game, got pissed, bought a pizza and fell asleep on the sofa". I am so predictable that its painful, I have become a parody.
Hopefully the few months off in the summer will rekindle my desire to write and enjoy writing again, rather than feeling like it is a massive chore.
Anyway, I will leave you with some of the best quotes from the Bristol weekend. We actually made Russell keep note of some of these on his phone, on the basis they would only be written down if they were not blatant attempts. Sadly a few gooduns didn't make the cut.
"Don't think much of the face but I wouldn't mind sticking my fingers up her twat"
Me, closely examining some crumpet on the train to WSM.
"He looked like fucking Hiroshima when he woke up this morning"
Sappo suggesting that Josh is not really a morning person"
But a pint of cobra, a pilau rice, a keema naan, a brinjal bhaji, a duck tikka and a £20 bill later, I was loving every single penny that I had spent. The keema naan was packed to the rafters with the beautiful red mince, I love auberjines and in the brinal bhaji they were cooked to perfection while the duck tikka was some of the tastiest meat I have ever devoured. I don't usually go for a dry main dish but I really enjoyed that. I also polished off the rest of Jared's curry, thus strengthening the sheriff's reputation as a human dustbin.
So it was certainly a good decision to eat there, the restauraunt had a laid-back atmosphere and while we were the first people to arrive in there, it was jam packed by the time we left there. And you can see why aswell.
Best of all though I came out of it not feeling too bloated, in fact we had enough time to fit in another pint before our train arrived and I had no problem sticking that away, before we eventually got the train back and a taxi to our hotel, arriving back about 9PM, a bit later than expected.
I'll be honest, by the time we arrived back I was pretty jaded and felt so tempted to just fall asleep while Russell was busying getting ready. I really had to do my best to stick it out.
We eventually headed out to meet the others in All Bar One for another few pints of estrella to get me in the mood for grooving. But it didn't particularly work, I was fearing another "here we go again" moments. It's hard work when you've had to little sleep and you've been on the piss all day at football in another town before having another big night out but luckily I perserved this time.
We soon after went to Syndicate, which we had heard rave reviews about as one of the best club's in Bristol. I found it quite romantic how the £1 entrance fee went straight into a charity box, very unusual for a nightclub.
My mood wasn't improved in here at the bar when Russell was about to get served by the barman before he said "he was here first" pointing to the boy next to him. He didn't thank him or even acknowledging him for doing so. If theres one thing I can't stand its blatant rudeness and nightclub's are sadly full of people like this. The amount of twats that have to play the macho male role by deliberately going out of their way to give you a quick barge is pathetic. I am sound like a miserable git who is too boring beyond his years but this little things really piss me off.
The other type that piss me off are the vile ugly boys that volture around girls and grope them when they're clearly not wanted. At least I know my role and stay away from the women. Well, those above a 3/10 rating anyway.
For the first hour or so I could not get into the groove of things and the club really wasn't doing anything for me. I was sobering up quickly and tiredness was taking over. But then there was a message on the big screen that had been sent in "Come on the Sheriff, liven up a bit the Dover jollyboys are with you" and it just took that and a couple of fucking good tunes to get back into the groove again. I didn't even need more drinks, I was just fucking alive on the music. LAD.
I'll tell you what, I say this a lot of times but the standard of fanny in here was fucking incredible. There were so few munters and so many 8-9/10's that it was just so pleasing on the eye. There was one really hot slag near us that stripped her shirt off just down to her bra and was dancing very provocatively. I think we all ended up getting a stiffy.
No, none us pulled. We are the inbetweeners-esque characters while Alex and Russell have girlfriends anyway. But I had a really good night anyway, there were again some brilliant tunes being played and I was glued to the dancefloor. I am pleased that I managed to stick it out and not pussy off early for once.
I tell you what though, it would be nice to go away for a weekend somewhere without having football being an immediete distraction. Just to recover in bed all day and doing fuck all until the second night.
But leaving the club drenched like a beach whale from sweating bucket loads on the dancefloor, I was pleased to reflect on what had been a fucking good weekend away and had been a superb laugh all around. The only real downside was the weather but that's something we're used to coping with in this country with. And the other tinge of sadness was that the weekend had surpassed so quickly but its one that I will remember for the forseeable future.
I can't really say much happened on the Sunday. I woke up at 9AM and mine + Fish's train was only an hour and a half later so we didn't have much of a chance to say goodbye to Bristol, which had been a fantastic host for us. The city had a mixture of old school buildings with lots of modern shopping centres and it had a really friendly vibe to the place. Its a place I really want to return to next season if I can afford it and we'll have two opportunities to in the form of Bath and Weston away. Although saying that, I quite fancy testing Bath out for a weekender too.
But yeah, me and Fish had quite a quiet journey back on ourselves which involved another delayed train back to Paddington and getting into Herne Bay about nearly 5 hours later. Not that I gave a fuck.
Anyway, that's the end of me for this season. I am probably going to write a big end of season review if I can be arsed to get round to writing it, but I can't promise it will be done in within a set timescale.
In the meanwhile, thank you for being a supportive and fantastic audience. When I started this blog at the beginning of the season I never envisaged I would actually be bothered to write a piece of every single game but somehow I have actually managed it, mainly thanks to a few annoying arseholes that have kept pestering me.
No, but seriously, I never imagined I would have nearly 15,000 views by the end of the season so thanks to everyone who has kept reading and found my blog's entertaining for whatever reason because quite honestly, I get bored of reading my same old tripe. So thank you.
Whether I will continue to write next season I don't know yet, it depends on the circumstances. Quite frankly I imagine I will write on a more sparing basis and mainly for the away games because by now you know what you are getting with one of my home reports; "Went to the OE, got pissed, went to football, it was shit, went out after the game, got pissed, bought a pizza and fell asleep on the sofa". I am so predictable that its painful, I have become a parody.
Hopefully the few months off in the summer will rekindle my desire to write and enjoy writing again, rather than feeling like it is a massive chore.
Anyway, I will leave you with some of the best quotes from the Bristol weekend. We actually made Russell keep note of some of these on his phone, on the basis they would only be written down if they were not blatant attempts. Sadly a few gooduns didn't make the cut.
"Don't think much of the face but I wouldn't mind sticking my fingers up her twat"
Me, closely examining some crumpet on the train to WSM.
"He looked like fucking Hiroshima when he woke up this morning"
Sappo suggesting that Josh is not really a morning person"
Me, struggling behind the group after lighting up a cigarette; "There's no 'I' in team lads" Russ's response; "No, but there's one in 'smoking'"
"What else you gonna do on a Saturday? Sit in a care home, eating your tinned carrots, having some carer change your fucking nappies? Fuck that for a laugh. Know what I'd rather do. Steam train to Plymouth, love it."
Me, editing a well known Football Factory quote to suit the old coffin dodgers enjoying their big day out on the steam train.
"Right, so I pulled the condom out of my arse and carried on anyway"
"What else you gonna do on a Saturday? Sit in a care home, eating your tinned carrots, having some carer change your fucking nappies? Fuck that for a laugh. Know what I'd rather do. Steam train to Plymouth, love it."
Me, editing a well known Football Factory quote to suit the old coffin dodgers enjoying their big day out on the steam train.
"Right, so I pulled the condom out of my arse and carried on anyway"
Sappo, shouting this out loudly whenever in a public place.
"Looks like a receding cumline"
Sappo quip on Josh's brown shoes, which had some strange white substance on them.
"What's everyone's aim for tonight? Mine is to get my worm burped."
The great new phrase invented of 'getting the worm burped'.
Me to Fish, slagging off his massive digital camera; "Are we going back to the 1950s? That camera is fucking huge." Fish's retort; "So are you but you don't see me moaning"
The general consensus in the pub; "Wouldn't it be good if we had Truro away first game of next season?" Josh with another facepalm moment; "Nah, better if it's in the summer"
After Phil had run into the pub toilet to have a shit: "That curry coming back to you Phil?" His reply; "Fucking Ghandi's Revenge"
"I woke up this morning.." "Feeling like P Diddy!!"
You'll either get this one or you won't. Either way, I made it.
"Looks like a receding cumline"
Sappo quip on Josh's brown shoes, which had some strange white substance on them.
"What's everyone's aim for tonight? Mine is to get my worm burped."
The great new phrase invented of 'getting the worm burped'.
Me to Fish, slagging off his massive digital camera; "Are we going back to the 1950s? That camera is fucking huge." Fish's retort; "So are you but you don't see me moaning"
The general consensus in the pub; "Wouldn't it be good if we had Truro away first game of next season?" Josh with another facepalm moment; "Nah, better if it's in the summer"
After Phil had run into the pub toilet to have a shit: "That curry coming back to you Phil?" His reply; "Fucking Ghandi's Revenge"
"I woke up this morning.." "Feeling like P Diddy!!"
You'll either get this one or you won't. Either way, I made it.
| Saturday 28 Apr 2012 | |||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Boreham Wood | 4 | - | 2 | Tonbridge Angels | |
 Jones (46) Effiong (82) Montgomery (08) |
Piper (18) Collin (67) Olorunda (79 og) |
 275 |
|||
| Chelmsford | 2 | - | 3 | Woking | |
| Akurang (17) Slabber (43) |
King (11) Sole (46) Murtagh (61) |
1,080 |
|||
| Dorchester | 1 | - | 1 | Bromley | |
| Malsom (48) |
Waldren (25) |
500 |
|||
| Eastbourne Borough | 1 | - | 3 | Salisbury | |
| Hart (88) |
Williams (61) Griffin (67) Fitchett (79) |
705 |
|||
| Havant and W | 3 | - | 2 | Staines Town | |
| Jones (23) Palmer (43) Dolan (91) |
Chaaban (20) Vassell (24)  Imudia (66) |
949 |
|||
| Maidenhead Utd | 4 | - | 3 | Eastleigh | |
| Wall (17) Tilson-Lascaris (21) Tilson-Lascaris (68) Semakula (91) |
Peacock (42) Wilson (62) Nelson (66) |
495 |
|||
| Sutton Utd | 2 | - | 0 | Farnborough | |
| Payne (30) Watkins (35) |
1,321 |
||||
| Thurrock | 0 | - | 2 | Hampton & Richmond | |
| Jeffreys (41) Moone (51) |
246 |
||||
| Truro City | 1 | - | 1 | Dartford | |
| Hayles (88) |
Erskine (91) |
751 |
|||
| Welling | 1 | - | 1 | Basingstoke | |
 Parkinson (44) |
Old (27) |
632 |
|||
| Weston-S-Mare | 1 | - | 1 | Dover | |
| Price (66) |
(51) |
325 | |||
Blue Sq South Table - April 28 2012
| Pos | Team | P | W | D | L | F | A | GD | Pts | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 |  |
Woking | 42 | 30 | 7 | 5 | 92 | 41 | 51 | 97 |
| 2 |  |
Dartford | 42 | 26 | 10 | 6 | 89 | 40 | 49 | 88 |
| 3 | |
Welling United | 42 | 24 | 9 | 9 | 79 | 47 | 32 | 81 |
| 4 | |
Sutton United | 42 | 20 | 14 | 8 | 68 | 53 | 15 | 74 |
| 5 | |
Basingstoke Town | 42 | 20 | 11 | 11 | 65 | 50 | 15 | 71 |
| 6 | |
Chelmsford | 42 | 18 | 13 | 11 | 67 | 44 | 23 | 67 |
| 7 | |
Dover | 42 | 17 | 15 | 10 | 62 | 49 | 13 | 66 |
| 8 | |
Boreham Wood | 42 | 17 | 10 | 15 | 66 | 58 | 8 | 61 |
| 9 | |
Tonbridge Angels | 42 | 15 | 12 | 15 | 70 | 67 | 3 | 57 |
| 10 | |
Salisbury City | 42 | 15 | 12 | 15 | 55 | 54 | 1 | 57 |
| 11 | |
Dorchester | 42 | 16 | 8 | 18 | 58 | 65 | -7 | 56 |
| 12 | |
Eastleigh | 42 | 15 | 9 | 18 | 57 | 63 | -6 | 54 |
| 13 | |
Weston-S-Mare | 42 | 14 | 9 | 19 | 58 | 71 | -13 | 51 |
| 14 | |
Truro City | 42 | 13 | 9 | 20 | 65 | 80 | -15 | 48 |
| 15 | |
Staines Town | 42 | 12 | 10 | 20 | 53 | 63 | -10 | 46 |
| 16 | |
Farnborough * | 42 | 15 | 6 | 21 | 52 | 79 | -27 | 46 |
| 17 | |
Bromley | 42 | 10 | 15 | 17 | 52 | 66 | -14 | 45 |
| 18 | |
Eastbourne Borough | 42 | 12 | 9 | 21 | 54 | 69 | -15 | 45 |
| 19 | |
Havant and Waterlooville | 42 | 11 | 11 | 20 | 64 | 75 | -11 | 44 |
| 20 | |
Maidenhead United | 42 | 11 | 10 | 21 | 49 | 74 | -25 | 43 |
| 21 | |
Hampton & Richmond | 42 | 10 | 12 | 20 | 53 | 69 | -16 | 42 |
| 22 | |
Thurrock | 42 | 5 | 11 | 26 | 33 | 84 | -51 | 26 |
No comments:
Post a Comment