Despite only being a relatively short train journey for us (just under 2 hours from Dover Priory) our planned departure train was the 08:44 much to the disdain and disgust of others, while it turned out to be a great decision for the alcoholics amongst us, leaving us with plenty of drinking time in what turned out to be an excellent drinking town.
Before getting the train I agreed to meet up at Dovorian cafe for breakfast and thus met Fish and Chris Grimes at the Dover town hall, the latter whom was making a welcome but very rare appearance. To our horror we discovered that the cafe wasn't even open and thus had to go to Beanos instead. I wasn't actually planning on eating but had a change of heart and the Sausage baguette turned out to be a very wise and flavoursome rewarding purchase, as did the random hot chocolate. Fish, Chris and Doddy, who had turned up typically late as usual, all went for full breakfasts and were unable to finish them as time until our train was at a premium. Silly twats, I did warn them but obviously not everyone can be blessed with common sense as much as I.
We were the last ones to arrive at the station and were greeted by a host of other Dover fans. Our leader Phil Smith, Jon Otto, the high-waisted real ale nut-case Mark Moselyn (who fully fits the bill of your average CAMRA type), the Posh & Becks of Crabble (Alex and Camilla for future reference), Ben Mitchell, Jared and finally, two fellow Snell boys. Yes, that's right, my father and 14 year old brother were also on board for this crackajacker. Both are regular home attendees but away games are more of a regular occurrence for them, particularly for the latter.
And better still, we still had the delights of Dave Waterfield and Mark Miller to join us at Folkestone.
So we travelled relatively well in numbers although a few had pulled out of the train during the week. The 0844 train into Gashford was a pretty quiet one as you'd expect at that time of the morning, the funniest moment being Martyn not being able to get a seat around us as they had all been taken up.
Things livened up a bit at Ashford though. As Martyn went outside to smoke with some random blonde bird he had been speaking to on the train, I shouted across "Oi, who's that dyke bird your going out there with?".
The Ashford - Brighton train line is one of the worst one's in the country. I've probably complained about it many times on my blog before but in case you don't know, it is a two carriage train that runs across Kent to Sussex despite the fact there are fucking hundreds of people that use the service. Eventually after you go past the busier stations everyone becomes more squished than a sardine in a tin. The official reason for the use of only two carriages is that some of the station platforms at the more tinpot towns and villages are not big enough to accommodate more. Which begs the question; Why not extend the size of the platforms? Given the amount of engineering works that go on in this country, you'd think that they'd get the chance to. Or just run a fast and slow service.
Never mind though, as it terminates at Ashford we were able to get first dibs on the few tables there and all managed to find seats comfortably. Good journey this was as well - aided by 2 bottles of stella and a litre mixture of energy drink and jaigermeister. As usual Martyn took a large brunt of the piss-taking with Waterfield suggesting that he looked like a cross between Furby and Harry Potter. But my claim that he looks like a cross between Penfold and Ian Huntley was met by even more rapturous laughter.
I also spent a good chunk of the journey showing everyone the videos on my phone from our train journey to Waterloo from Basingstoke (which by the way, I didn't write a blog for last week due to a mixture of apathy for my own writing and hardly remembering much of what had happened). Anyway these videos were a huge mixture of embarrassing, cringe-worthy and utterly hilarious, and must never be uploaded to the internet.
We arrived into Eastbourne at our planned arrival time of 10:39 and immediately set about finding the toilets so we could collectively empty our bladders. For some strange reason we were all making strange orgasm sounds while doing so, which must have been disturbing for any walkers-by. Then our next task was to find our first pub which luckily wasn't too hard too find - just over the road from the station in fact - to Dave Waterfield's favourite chain of pubs - Wetherspoons. Let's be honest it's always a great place to start off a cheap pint and this was made even better by the current ale festival they have on. Naturally out of all the pumps the name 'Thirsty Beaver' clearly stood out from the rest and the Canadian brew was made my first alcoholic purchase of the day. Sadly it didn't particularly live up to its exotic name - it was rather bland and lacked a killer flavour. The half-pint I had of Ghost Train while waiting for everyone else to finish up was a much better number.
Not too much to report on here - just your usual banal, inane, bullshit conversations you engage with your mates when sharing a beer down the pub. We only had the 1 in here (or 1.5 in my case) before fleeing to our next destination; The Terminus. We had heard that this Harveys pub was very highly rated by the good beer guide and seemed very well sized and well decorated inside. And true to south eastern England traditions, it was really fucking expensive as well. I gasped at the £3.92 price for a pint of 'Star of Eastbourne - East India Ale' but luckily my dad covered the costs of that one, as he did most of the time throughout the afternoon. At 5.5% it was very strong for an ale though and certainly hit me even more than a pint of stella would. It was nice indeed, but still over-priced.
In here we were also joined by the younger talents of Josh Watkins and Tom Foad, whom had made the journey from their respective universities polytechnics of Greenwich and Chichester.
After this we moved on back towards the station to find our next destination, which would be the Eagle. This was more of a sports style pub, with a pool table and screens showing sky sports, which was very handy for the 2CW's amongst our support, which are sadly a common occurrence. Amongst our contingent their were 3 Man United 'fans' that were getting slight erections once Van Persie had done the inevitable.
That said though this was also a very good pub for ale and had 5 or 6 on draught while they also offered the opportunity to sell them in jug-style glasses, which I gladly accepted. I can't remember the names of each one but the first one was a really nice fruity style one while the other was sadly utterly disgusting. I accidently bought one of those really dark treacle-esque ones even after Alex had warned me about me it. The real ale nerds will tell you that the dark ones are for proper drinkers whereas the truth is they're absolutely rancid and a good reason why your average person won't drink ale. Terrible.
I soldiered on to drink about 3 quarters of that pint which was a tremendous effort before we all fled to head on to the Dew Drop, a fairly old school style pub that had two heavily bearded and tattooed blokes serving. There wasn't a great deal of choice ale wise, if I remember rightly, I think I had a run of the mill champion ale which was alright.
What was best about this pub though was making some stuck up couple who were eating (their burgers looked absolutely orgasmic btw) pick up their plates and move to another table about 4 metres away. I don't even think we were being particularly loud or obnoxious, well certainly not by our normal standards anyway. We had to be on our best behaviour with the strict Dave Waterfield around. Still, fucking football fans, ey? Utter scum.
We moved onto a 5th and final pub which was one of the best pubs out of the lot; named the Dolphin. It had plenty of choice ale wise and I loved the Hastings Blonde golden ale that I devoured, which well and truly put me on the path to drunkdom. I also recall their being two very aesthetically pleasing barmaids there with a few of our lot naturally unsuccessfully attempting to chat them up.
Instead of getting a taxi straight to the ground here from the final pub Phil instead deciding we would get the train to Pevensey and walk to the ground from there. This would IMO, be a bad idea. After arriving in the small village at half 2 the walk to the ground was clearly a lot longer than anticipated. A 20 minutes walk at a brisk pace in the end. Still; two great things came out of this walk; 1) Kieran fell over while running and landed completely in drenched mud and 2) some random Eastbourne fan picked up me, Mark Miller, Tom and Martyn and kindly gave us a lift to the ground, thus saving us half of the walk. At first I thought it was some Dover fan that Mark knew but it just turns out there are a few well-meaning people in the world.
With time at a premium and already feeling more than tipsy, we opted against a quick pint in their bar and instead went straight inside the ground. Once again I fleeced another turnstile operator into letting me in as Under 16 with Mark Miller playing the role of Dad. If there's one good thing about non-league football then its continuously being able to get away with this.
I took a few pictures of the ground for my second visit to Priory Lane before catching up with some of the non-train army like Darren, Steven King and Reginald, whom has been missing in action for the last few games. He asked me why I haven't uploaded a blog in the last few weeks at the answer is simple; I barely have the enthusiasm for it any more and largely do it out of habit. Hence why you will notice the diluted quality in this one.
Anyway, GAME ON. Nicky Forster persisted with the same side that battered Billericay in the early stages of the Tuesday night game last week before the floodlights were viciously tampered with thanks to a Russian left-wing conspiracy orchestrated from the Kremlin. This was welcoming to see Chris Sessegnon continue to deputize for Shane Huke after the latter consistently disappointing and as much as I like Billy Bricknell, it was good to see Willock handed a start to show us what he could do. Both selections in the end were fully justified.
There's no point me writing a whole match report here because quite frankly I can't be arsed. So I'll keep it brief, if you wish to know an event-by-event then read Camilla's match report.
So I'll let you know this: we led 1-0 in the first half thanks to who else but everyone's most beloved Dover player Barry Cogan. Ricky Modeste, who was a pain in the arse for their defence all afternoon, skipped past a defender on the right hand side and floated in a very inviting cross. My namesake got his bullet head onto the end of the ball and his header hit the underside of the bar before our Irishman-who-has-played-in-an-FACup-Final stabbed in from a yard out. It looked pretty messy and I didn't see the ball cross over the line from where I was stood as the stand behind the goal we were attacking was pretty flat.
The rest of the half was fairly end-to-end but with no side creating any clear openings, meaning we went to the break with a goal advantage. And even more notably, the state of some of our fans was clearly so bad than Kingy even remarked that I seemed pretty sober compared to the rest!
I headed outside to their bar for a much needed refreshment and my dad got the brew in. I think it was a courage directors or something. I don't really know at this point! I finished it pretty swiftly anyway as I didn't want to miss any of the start of the second half. And seeing as we were behind the much better stand in the second half we all found our voices. Which sadly, look at some of my videos, we clearly didn't sound a great as I had thought. By the way in an attendance of 664 around 100+ Dover fans made the trip, which could and should be better given our exquisite away form.
We wouldn't have to wait long before we were bouncing around in excitement. Just 5 minutes into the re-start and Ben May was clumsily hauled down by their goalkeeper, who was pretty poor all afternoon. Ben stood up to take responsibilites and took it in a real way that any striker should. Just close your eyes and smash it down the middle. It clipped the underside of the bar on the way in and that bar is still probably shaking now. Emphatic wasn't certainly an adjective I would use to describe it.
I caught this and the decision on youtube which is rather painful to watch.
That was the 7th game on the spin that he has scored in; 8 if you count the abandoned Bill-her-ricky game. Not sure how far he's off a club record but he certainly has been the fucking business for us. Cue my new song; He plays up front with all his heart, Ben May, Ben May, He's better than Joff Vansittart, Ben May, Ben May, With his left or with his right he will score all fucking night, Ben May, Number Nine, Dover's goal machine. Bit lame I know but its a lot better than a lot of the unoriginal shit doing the rounds at the moment.
Even with a 2 goal cushion we continued to push on for more goals and the introduction of Jamie 'Messi' Smith for Bazza indicated our attacking intentions, and he gave them a torturous time after coming on.
He wasn't involved in our third and final game killer on the 70th minute though. That would largely be down to the creative genius of Daryl McMahon, who sent through a delightful ball to Willock. The striker busted a gut to latch onto the loose ball and excellent drifted the ball wide of their goalkeeper to send us into delirium. Poor Calum though seemed to injure himself in the process though and eventually got replaced by Bricknell.
Then came the most embarrassing part of the day. For some reason we thought it would be a good idea to start a conga around the ground. About 6 of us participated and only got about a third way past the side terrace before it dawned on us what fucking losers and social outcasts we looked like. It was immediately regretted and we deservedly got the piss ripped out of us when we returned behind the goal.
We had further chances to make the scoreline even more handsome, more notably when Jamie Smith went of a mazy run before unleashing a dipping 25 yard shot which agonizingly hit the cross bar. It surely would have been one of the goals of the season had it gone in.
Eastbourne also attacked but our defence held out very well and when Walker was tested upon, the young goalkeeper dealt with everything they had to offer. It was an excellent clinical, efficient and attacking performance and really highlighted to me that we can become serious title challengers once we can start doing it at Crabble on a regular basis. I know its obvious saying that but its true. I haven't seen a better side this season than an on-form Dover. Had their not been floodlight failure on Tuesday night then we would probably be sitting even more pretty in the table right now.
Embarrassment didn't end here though. On the way walking out of the ground I managed to fall over the terracing and bruise my knee which was really amusing for everyone but myself.
We continued where we left off in their bar to celebrate our fine win and were sadly greeted by quite a few ungracious tossers from the guests, with the flids failing to realise that we had just turned them over 3-0 in their own manor. They also directed really funny and original songs at us like "You're just a bus stop in Calais" which I'm still trying to recover from the stitches it gave me now. Then we had some bloke in an Arsenal shirt gobbing off at us trying to claim he wasn't an Eastbourne fan and that all us lower-league fans are tossers. Errr, ok. Needless to say he got rinsed.
Best of all though came from the increasingly stupid Fish, who provided my moment of the day outside the bar. As we were congratulating passing Dover players on the performance we went up to some black bloke to thank Ian Simpemba for playing well. He even had a mini-chat with him. Only for me to point out that wasn't actually Simps and then the real Simpemba turned up. I told him and Tom Wynter about it and they cracked up. Tom said "Yeah well we do all look the same"!
Anyway I think I had a brief chat with the chairman at some point although I can't really remember what about. I had switched back to lager at this point and was just enjoying the time of my life.
Sensibly, we decided to get taxis this time to Pevensey station in order to catch the 5:49 train to Bexhill - and I succesfully managed to sneak a full pint in without spilling it. On this train journey I believe that Martyn McGarrigle successfully convinced some tourists that he was the real Ben Mitchell, the actor Josh Pascoe, and they successfully brought it. I also vaguely remember them teaching some Korean tourists the gangnam style dance, the unfunny global phenomenal song that I don't really understand.
At Bexhill we stocked up on tinnies from the offy while some of them bought food from a dirty kebab house. I was keen to save myself and go for a banquet at the India House when arriving back into Dover, but this sadly never came to fruition thanks to Phil for opting to go to Karaoke instead. Instead, I did my usual routine of stumbling in with a chinese takeaway, scoffing it, then waking up on the sofa at a silly hour in the morning.
And there you have it guys, another typical Callum away day. But it was a fucking good one at that, even if this blog hasn't quite done it justice. And I'm chuffed we have another one to look forward to on Saturday with Chelmsford in the Trophy, which has decent potential even though I'm not feeling very confident about it. I just desperately hope we go through as I'd rather miss the next round on the 24th than a league game as I will be missing that game regardless. I've not missed a proper Dover game since March 2011 so its going to be tough but a weekend in Newcastle should be enough to compensate for it.
Anyway, fuck it, YOLO, I'll leave you with some pics that I couldn't be arsed to upload earlier on.
I soldiered on to drink about 3 quarters of that pint which was a tremendous effort before we all fled to head on to the Dew Drop, a fairly old school style pub that had two heavily bearded and tattooed blokes serving. There wasn't a great deal of choice ale wise, if I remember rightly, I think I had a run of the mill champion ale which was alright.
What was best about this pub though was making some stuck up couple who were eating (their burgers looked absolutely orgasmic btw) pick up their plates and move to another table about 4 metres away. I don't even think we were being particularly loud or obnoxious, well certainly not by our normal standards anyway. We had to be on our best behaviour with the strict Dave Waterfield around. Still, fucking football fans, ey? Utter scum.
We moved onto a 5th and final pub which was one of the best pubs out of the lot; named the Dolphin. It had plenty of choice ale wise and I loved the Hastings Blonde golden ale that I devoured, which well and truly put me on the path to drunkdom. I also recall their being two very aesthetically pleasing barmaids there with a few of our lot naturally unsuccessfully attempting to chat them up.
Instead of getting a taxi straight to the ground here from the final pub Phil instead deciding we would get the train to Pevensey and walk to the ground from there. This would IMO, be a bad idea. After arriving in the small village at half 2 the walk to the ground was clearly a lot longer than anticipated. A 20 minutes walk at a brisk pace in the end. Still; two great things came out of this walk; 1) Kieran fell over while running and landed completely in drenched mud and 2) some random Eastbourne fan picked up me, Mark Miller, Tom and Martyn and kindly gave us a lift to the ground, thus saving us half of the walk. At first I thought it was some Dover fan that Mark knew but it just turns out there are a few well-meaning people in the world.
With time at a premium and already feeling more than tipsy, we opted against a quick pint in their bar and instead went straight inside the ground. Once again I fleeced another turnstile operator into letting me in as Under 16 with Mark Miller playing the role of Dad. If there's one good thing about non-league football then its continuously being able to get away with this.
I took a few pictures of the ground for my second visit to Priory Lane before catching up with some of the non-train army like Darren, Steven King and Reginald, whom has been missing in action for the last few games. He asked me why I haven't uploaded a blog in the last few weeks at the answer is simple; I barely have the enthusiasm for it any more and largely do it out of habit. Hence why you will notice the diluted quality in this one.
Anyway, GAME ON. Nicky Forster persisted with the same side that battered Billericay in the early stages of the Tuesday night game last week before the floodlights were viciously tampered with thanks to a Russian left-wing conspiracy orchestrated from the Kremlin. This was welcoming to see Chris Sessegnon continue to deputize for Shane Huke after the latter consistently disappointing and as much as I like Billy Bricknell, it was good to see Willock handed a start to show us what he could do. Both selections in the end were fully justified.
There's no point me writing a whole match report here because quite frankly I can't be arsed. So I'll keep it brief, if you wish to know an event-by-event then read Camilla's match report.
So I'll let you know this: we led 1-0 in the first half thanks to who else but everyone's most beloved Dover player Barry Cogan. Ricky Modeste, who was a pain in the arse for their defence all afternoon, skipped past a defender on the right hand side and floated in a very inviting cross. My namesake got his bullet head onto the end of the ball and his header hit the underside of the bar before our Irishman-who-has-played-in-an-FACup-Final stabbed in from a yard out. It looked pretty messy and I didn't see the ball cross over the line from where I was stood as the stand behind the goal we were attacking was pretty flat.
The rest of the half was fairly end-to-end but with no side creating any clear openings, meaning we went to the break with a goal advantage. And even more notably, the state of some of our fans was clearly so bad than Kingy even remarked that I seemed pretty sober compared to the rest!
I headed outside to their bar for a much needed refreshment and my dad got the brew in. I think it was a courage directors or something. I don't really know at this point! I finished it pretty swiftly anyway as I didn't want to miss any of the start of the second half. And seeing as we were behind the much better stand in the second half we all found our voices. Which sadly, look at some of my videos, we clearly didn't sound a great as I had thought. By the way in an attendance of 664 around 100+ Dover fans made the trip, which could and should be better given our exquisite away form.
We wouldn't have to wait long before we were bouncing around in excitement. Just 5 minutes into the re-start and Ben May was clumsily hauled down by their goalkeeper, who was pretty poor all afternoon. Ben stood up to take responsibilites and took it in a real way that any striker should. Just close your eyes and smash it down the middle. It clipped the underside of the bar on the way in and that bar is still probably shaking now. Emphatic wasn't certainly an adjective I would use to describe it.
I caught this and the decision on youtube which is rather painful to watch.
That was the 7th game on the spin that he has scored in; 8 if you count the abandoned Bill-her-ricky game. Not sure how far he's off a club record but he certainly has been the fucking business for us. Cue my new song; He plays up front with all his heart, Ben May, Ben May, He's better than Joff Vansittart, Ben May, Ben May, With his left or with his right he will score all fucking night, Ben May, Number Nine, Dover's goal machine. Bit lame I know but its a lot better than a lot of the unoriginal shit doing the rounds at the moment.
Even with a 2 goal cushion we continued to push on for more goals and the introduction of Jamie 'Messi' Smith for Bazza indicated our attacking intentions, and he gave them a torturous time after coming on.
He wasn't involved in our third and final game killer on the 70th minute though. That would largely be down to the creative genius of Daryl McMahon, who sent through a delightful ball to Willock. The striker busted a gut to latch onto the loose ball and excellent drifted the ball wide of their goalkeeper to send us into delirium. Poor Calum though seemed to injure himself in the process though and eventually got replaced by Bricknell.
Then came the most embarrassing part of the day. For some reason we thought it would be a good idea to start a conga around the ground. About 6 of us participated and only got about a third way past the side terrace before it dawned on us what fucking losers and social outcasts we looked like. It was immediately regretted and we deservedly got the piss ripped out of us when we returned behind the goal.
We had further chances to make the scoreline even more handsome, more notably when Jamie Smith went of a mazy run before unleashing a dipping 25 yard shot which agonizingly hit the cross bar. It surely would have been one of the goals of the season had it gone in.
Eastbourne also attacked but our defence held out very well and when Walker was tested upon, the young goalkeeper dealt with everything they had to offer. It was an excellent clinical, efficient and attacking performance and really highlighted to me that we can become serious title challengers once we can start doing it at Crabble on a regular basis. I know its obvious saying that but its true. I haven't seen a better side this season than an on-form Dover. Had their not been floodlight failure on Tuesday night then we would probably be sitting even more pretty in the table right now.
Embarrassment didn't end here though. On the way walking out of the ground I managed to fall over the terracing and bruise my knee which was really amusing for everyone but myself.
We continued where we left off in their bar to celebrate our fine win and were sadly greeted by quite a few ungracious tossers from the guests, with the flids failing to realise that we had just turned them over 3-0 in their own manor. They also directed really funny and original songs at us like "You're just a bus stop in Calais" which I'm still trying to recover from the stitches it gave me now. Then we had some bloke in an Arsenal shirt gobbing off at us trying to claim he wasn't an Eastbourne fan and that all us lower-league fans are tossers. Errr, ok. Needless to say he got rinsed.
Best of all though came from the increasingly stupid Fish, who provided my moment of the day outside the bar. As we were congratulating passing Dover players on the performance we went up to some black bloke to thank Ian Simpemba for playing well. He even had a mini-chat with him. Only for me to point out that wasn't actually Simps and then the real Simpemba turned up. I told him and Tom Wynter about it and they cracked up. Tom said "Yeah well we do all look the same"!
Anyway I think I had a brief chat with the chairman at some point although I can't really remember what about. I had switched back to lager at this point and was just enjoying the time of my life.
Sensibly, we decided to get taxis this time to Pevensey station in order to catch the 5:49 train to Bexhill - and I succesfully managed to sneak a full pint in without spilling it. On this train journey I believe that Martyn McGarrigle successfully convinced some tourists that he was the real Ben Mitchell, the actor Josh Pascoe, and they successfully brought it. I also vaguely remember them teaching some Korean tourists the gangnam style dance, the unfunny global phenomenal song that I don't really understand.
At Bexhill we stocked up on tinnies from the offy while some of them bought food from a dirty kebab house. I was keen to save myself and go for a banquet at the India House when arriving back into Dover, but this sadly never came to fruition thanks to Phil for opting to go to Karaoke instead. Instead, I did my usual routine of stumbling in with a chinese takeaway, scoffing it, then waking up on the sofa at a silly hour in the morning.
And there you have it guys, another typical Callum away day. But it was a fucking good one at that, even if this blog hasn't quite done it justice. And I'm chuffed we have another one to look forward to on Saturday with Chelmsford in the Trophy, which has decent potential even though I'm not feeling very confident about it. I just desperately hope we go through as I'd rather miss the next round on the 24th than a league game as I will be missing that game regardless. I've not missed a proper Dover game since March 2011 so its going to be tough but a weekend in Newcastle should be enough to compensate for it.
Anyway, fuck it, YOLO, I'll leave you with some pics that I couldn't be arsed to upload earlier on.
 |
| This is Fish |
 |
| The resident twat. |
 |
| The likely lads. |
 |
| Snelldom |
I will upload more photos to this tomorrow (Friday). Its too slow doing it on my current laptop.
| os | Team | P | W | D | L | F | A | GD | Pts | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 |  | Salisbury City | 15 | 10 | 3 | 2 | 30 | 17 | 13 | 33 |
| 2 |  | Chelmsford | 13 | 7 | 3 | 3 | 20 | 15 | 5 | 24 |
| 3 | | Eastleigh | 15 | 7 | 2 | 6 | 26 | 27 | -1 | 23 |
| 4 | | Boreham Wood | 12 | 6 | 4 | 2 | 22 | 12 | 10 | 22 |
| 5 | | Welling United | 13 | 6 | 4 | 3 | 22 | 15 | 7 | 22 |
| 6 | | Dover | 13 | 6 | 4 | 3 | 18 | 12 | 6 | 22 |
| 7 | | Farnborough | 15 | 6 | 3 | 6 | 30 | 25 | 5 | 21 |
| 8 |  | Staines Town | 16 | 6 | 3 | 7 | 24 | 28 | -4 | 21 |
| 9 | | Hayes & Yeading | 13 | 6 | 2 | 5 | 24 | 21 | 3 | 20 |
| 10 | | Bath City | 15 | 6 | 2 | 7 | 26 | 25 | 1 | 20 |
| 11 | | Tonbridge Angels | 15 | 4 | 7 | 4 | 28 | 28 | 0 | 19 |
| 12 | | Weston-S-Mare | 14 | 5 | 4 | 5 | 19 | 19 | 0 | 19 |
| 13 | | Dorchester | 12 | 6 | 1 | 5 | 14 | 17 | -3 | 19 |
| 14 | | Maidenhead United | 14 | 5 | 3 | 6 | 28 | 24 | 4 | 18 |
| 15 | | Billericay Town | 13 | 5 | 3 | 5 | 23 | 22 | 1 | 18 |
| 16 | | Eastbourne Borough | 15 | 5 | 2 | 8 | 14 | 19 | -5 | 17 |
| 17 | | Bromley | 13 | 4 | 4 | 5 | 15 | 17 | -2 | 16 |
| 18 | | Sutton United | 15 | 3 | 7 | 5 | 17 | 21 | -4 | 16 |
| 19 | | Basingstoke Town | 14 | 3 | 5 | 6 | 17 | 23 | -6 | 14 |
| 20 | | Hornchurch | 16 | 3 | 5 | 8 | 17 | 26 | -9 | 14 |
| 21 | | Havant and Waterlooville | 15 | 2 | 7 | 6 | 16 | 26 | -10 | 13 |
| 22 | | Truro City * | 14 | 4 | 2 | 8 | 20 | 31 | -11 | 4 |
| Saturday 03 Nov 2012 | |||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Bath City | 3 | - | 2 | Farnborough | |
 Griffin (18) Griffin (85) Canham (91) | Connolly (56) Bennet (78) |  605 | |||
| Billericay | 0 | - | 0 | Weston-S-Mare | |
| 395 | |||||
| Eastleigh | 1 | - | 0 | Sutton Utd | |
| Reason (12) | 636 | ||||
| Havant and W | 0 | - | 1 | Welling | |
| Lafayette (78) | 568 | ||||
| Salisbury | 1 | - | 1 | Maidenhead Utd | |
| Fitchett (12) | Tison-Lascaris (18) | 755 | |||
| Staines Town | 1 | - | 4 | Tonbridge Angels | |
 Kanyuka (67) Theophanous (87) | Davis (51) Collin (63) Collin (67) Browning (85) | 375 | |||
| Truro City | 3 | - | 2 | AFC Hornchurch | |
| Moore (45) Moore (50) Watkins (66) | McKenzie (57) McKenzie (91) | 414 | |||
| Eastbourne Borough | 0 | - | 3 | Dover | |
| Cogan (18) May (52) Willock (72) | 664 | ||||
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