Bees Stung By Pilgrims : Barnet 1-4 Plymouth Argyle

With Saturday's game at Truro being called off due to them being irresponsible financial basketcases, not intent on taking any responsibility for the mess they have created in the Blue Square South league and their fans expecting that the world allows them a living, the Cornwall weekend dream was no longer alive. Well not for the time being anyway, as the Conference are still bending over backwards to help them even though they have failed to respond to several deadlines to pay the bond requirements they owe.
Anyway, without rumbling anymore on about that, there was a silver lining cloud in the form of a great back up plan; a first visit to Underhill to watch my beloved Plymouth Argyle take on Barnet in what I have now discovered is the final season the club will be at the stadium.

I'm not actually a proper Plymouth two club wanker just for the record, its just that I keep a keen eye on them as my Dad supports them. And no, I'm not really entirely sure why he supports a club based in Devon but I'm sure that can be a story he will tell me at a later date. I have seen the Pilgrims play twice before; the first being a 3-3 draw with Brighton & Hove Albion at Home Park around 1999 which being so young I can only really vaguely remember. Since then 3 stands of the ground have been re-developed and I really need to get myself back there some day, which will hopefully be in the away end with Dover *dream FA Cup tie alert*. And for the second game, I quite shamefully missed a Dover home game, a 1-2 defeat to Kingstonian which signalled the end of Steve Brown's reign and left us rooted to the bottom of the Ryman Premier with relegation seeming a certainty. As a naive 13 year old I was quite eager to visit a 'proper' football ground in the form of Priestield, a quite dreadful ground for an away supporter. And it was an ex Dover loanee, Andrew Crofts, who put Plymouth to sword with the only goal of the game on the occasion. But never mind; the Gillscum still got relegated at the end of that season.

So when I saw that Plymouth were playing Barnet I was quite excited at them playing at a ground I had wanted to visit soon with it due to be confine to the wasteland of history sooner rather than later, which was also fairly local and affordable. And better still my two companions who were due to travel to Truro with me were also up for it, meaning I would have company throughout the day in the form of Kieran Dodd and Christopher Hunt.

I met up with Kieran to catch the 09:44 highspeed train into St Pancakes (© Christopher) where Doddy was running his usual fashionable lateness. Well, not too late actually as there were still about 8 minutes remaining, but still not enough to purchase his ticket at the station. While waiting for him some lad around my age struck up a conversation with me having clocked on me wearing Dover Athletic jacket and we got talking. Then I was amazed that he told me he was a Plymouth fan and was off to Barnet as well, both of us couldn't believe the chances of it in somewhere like Dover. We didn't catch the train with him though as he was off to Maidstone first to meet his Argyle supporting father before getting there. He did warn me that with a lot of Truro 2CW's amongst the Plymouth supportership I could get a bit of stick because they have been riled by Jim Parmenter's perfectly legitimate comments. But I don't think anyone really noticed to be honest. And sadly I didn't get to catch him again amongst the huge travelling hordes from the West Country.

Me and Doddy spent most of the journey discussing the England v San Marino game from the night prior, of which he had actually attended at Wembley. I can't say I was too envious really; it was pretty painful viewing watching us struggle to break down the most limited international side in the world for long spells. Not forgetting that he actually had to suffer the painfully dreadful England band in person without having the luxury to press mute on the sound like I did. And I haven't even mentioned being surrounded by face paint clad, happy clappy, middle-class tourist types that seem to make up most of the attendees. Oh, and having to get throught a ridiclous queue to get back on the underground after the game. But other than that I'm sure he had a great evening out. Attending an England game at Wembley doesn't really appeal to me at all for them reasons, even though I actually quite like the stadium on itself. I still have never attended a Three Lions game, and I doubt I ever will unless its at a major international tournament. Because when it comes to England I am like one of those fans I despise at Dover that only jump on board for the FA Cup ties and make out that they are lifelong supporters.

One can of becks, a bottle of stella, plenty of oogling at some very hot young females I could only ever dream of fingering, and approximately an hour later, we had arrived in the very undesirable capital of our country. And seeing as we were here pretty early I thought it was a good opportunity to go to the underground and finally buy the oyster card I have been meaning to get a very long time ago. It meant queuing up for over 20 minutes behind annoying foreign and scouse tourists who get to the desk and seemingly have no idea what they're doing, but luckily I won't have to queue very often on the underground anymore. Funnily enough we were not even using the underground for this journey anyway although there is a station called High Barnet on the Northern line which is only 5 minutes away from the ground. Instead there were national rail lines to New Barnet, approximately 15 minutes from the ground but with plenty of pubs en route. 

But we didn't plan on going there straight away, instead choosing to wait for the notioriously late arriver in Chris while drinking a few pints in The Betjeman arms, a pub I hadn't been to yet but Doddy had previously raved about. Its situated just upstairs from the bottom end of St Pancakes station and its certainly a pleasant pub with plenty of different rooms and outside sections as well. I was warned that it would be expensive though but of course I was expecting that in the rip-off capital but Doddy was kind enough to cover the first round totally over £8 for two pints; a Becks for him and some German lager I'd never heard of before called Lowenbrau. And it just went to show that being cool and obscure isn't always better as it was pretty weak and tasteless - it felts more like a coors light than a bitburger. Never mind. The pint of Becks I had afterwards was better.

The main concern was Chris though and he was typically running late although this time he seemed to have legitimate reasoning with engineering works fucking up his route from Putney. By the time we did meet him outside we had about 12 minutes until our train but being the true legends that we are, we managed to quickly squeeze in a quick dash to burger king for some much needed fuel before running off to the Kings Cross platform and managing to make the train with such a matter of seconds remaining. It turned out my BOGOF vouchers were a waste of time as the chicken royale(s) were disappointingly bland and not worth nearly sacraficing a train for.

There were plenty of other Green shirts populating this old rusty train as the twenty minute journey took us through various non-descript places on the outskirts of London before we arrived at the one we were intending to get off at. And it didn't take long to find out it was your average London overspill town with cheap offlicences and ludicrously cheap takeaways being the first few shops in sight.

We came very poorly prepared for this, none of us having the slighest of clues where everything was or where we were going. The only preparation I had done was to book mine and Doddy's £13 concession rate terrace ticket but I hadn't sorted out anything in the way of pub reccomendations or directions. So instead of just following the rest of the Argyle crowd, we ventured into the nearest pub we could find which was The Railway Tavern. It was your bog standard pub suitable for football fans with Sky TV, Pool table, Plenty of beers and ales on draught, a sizeable beer garden and cheap food, but it also had a slightly dirty/unclean feel to the place. The most noteworthy thing about the pub though was the fact it had tv screens in the pub toilets which was pretty damn cool.

Just a shame that the only thing they could screen was thugby with the international break ensuring a lack of screened soccer over the weekend.

Another fairly cool thing was that they sold Red Stripe on draught which is something I don't think I have ever seen before, I've only ever seen it sold in a can. So I had a pint of that in here even though its a pretty poor/standard lager.
Nothing particularly witty or exotic to write home about here, but we did speak to some other Argyle fans in the beer garden and unfortunately for the PAFC fanbase he did nothing to help shake off the West Country simpleton stereotype. 

With time worryingly at a premium we decided to head off to the pub closest to the ground which I had heard was supposed to be pretty reasonable except we had one problem; we didn't have a clue which way it was........ and predictably we started walking the wrong way. At that point we did what any clueless person would do and rang up a taxi to take us to Underhill and we'd work out what we were doing from there.

We arrived outside the famous stadium just after 2PM, surpassing the pub we were planning to go to which seemed to be decked out with away fans. I thought the best thing to do at this point would be to collect our tickets from the ticket office before going back to the pub. But then with Chris being told he couldn't buy a ticket at the office and instead pay at the turnstile a bit I panicked that he might not get in, not knowing if Plymouth would sell out their allocation seeing as it has a pretty small capacity. Instead the plan would be that we'd drink a couple of overpriced beers inside the ground......

Just out of interest, we saw another few Dover fans outside the ground; Steven King and his Dad. They were also in the away end with us but we didn't want to see them for the rest of the afternoon.

But nope, the disaster struck our eyes when we realised that Underhill isn't like most league football grounds which have concourses, its a non-league ground in everything but name which can't sell alcohol because the tea hut is close to the pitch and all that, bollocks health and safety regulations blah blah blah. Chris really wasn't happy about it and was keen to remind me that I had ruined the day, which I could only apologize for. But it turned out to be a good thing that we had arrived inside the ground so early (around 2:15AM) as the 25 minutes or so before kick off became chaos for the travelling fans, with only 2 turnstiles open for such a large quantity of supporters which meant people were still coming into the ground well after kick off. So on the plus side we got to get a good space on the wide terrace and got to get something from the tea hut before the queues became ridiculously long. Yep, only one very small hut at the back of the stand was available for 1053 travelling supporters. 

Aside from it being very poorly catered for larger away followings, I really enjoyed the surroundings at Underhill. It had the feel of a proper traditional football ground, if you are able to excuse some of its tinpot features. The away end featured half of the pitch wide terrace, with the other half being populated by home fans. Its a decent sized, compact terrace that makes for good atmosphere Then there is also this really strange small temporary stand consisting of 200ish seats behind the goal for away fans, which was pretty much full. The rest of the stand behind that goal is for home fans and is just a really small uncovered terrace. The other pitch side of the ground consists of three different sections; some more small uncovered terracing, a very old school decaying main stand with another small seated stand accompanying it. Then behind the other goal has their nicest seated stand of the ground, which I believe was only built in the past 5 years or so.

Its a ground that very much looks like it would be more suited in non-league surroundings but its one I very much enjoyed and its a real shame to hear it will be no more come the end of the season. We have actually played Barnet here during my time as a Dover fan; in an FA Trophy defeat during our run of the otherwise miserable 2003/04 campaign. We actually lost 3-2 on that occasion but were reinstated thanks to them fielding an illegible player. I remember being desperate and eager to travel to the game but this was in the days were there were no organized coach travel and I knew nobody, the only hope of getting to an away game was when a lift was advertised on the forum - hence why my first away game was randomly Stafford Rangers of all places. Instead that day I was at Deal Town's ground to watch our reserves.

The away section would [probably] have been vastly less populated on that January 2004 day though than this occasion with a very, very impressive turnout from the green army. Officially the away attendance was 1053, somewhat lower than it seemed and what me Chris and Doddy estimated at. Then again the home ends looked more populated than they usually do on the football league highlight show with optimism being renewed after the announcement that Edgar Davids has been appointed as player/coach, while a 2-2 draw away at much fancied Southend last week would also have been cause of hope, particularly against a Plymouth side that has struggled for goals and confidence (from reports I have read)..
 I, myself was looking forward to the game and seeing what the players I play as on FIFA 13 are like in the real world, having not seen any of their players in the flesh other than Paris Cowan-Hall, signed from Woking in the summer.


Barnet fans didn't have to wait long before they would feel that all too familar sinking feeling, with them having not won a single game this season. It took just 2 minutes for Plymouth to take the lead from the spot after Luke Young was clumsily hauled down by Mark Byrne after advancing in on Cowan-Hall's cut-back. Rhys Griffiths duly dispatched the spot kick, only needing the first attempt after requiring a rebound versus AFC Milton Keynes Dons the previous week. He sent the familar Graham Stack the wrong way, with the ex Argyle keeper receiving a lot of stick in the second half.

And it wouldn't be too long before me, Chris and Doddy were going fucking ballistic in delight by celebrating another Plymouth goal on 11 minutes. It was the highly rated Frenchman defender Maxime Blanchard, who rose unmarked from a corner to powerfully head home in the corner. It became clear already that Barnet's defence was comically bad with more gaps than a Hillbillies teeth.

But Plymouth would also contribute some shocking defending of their own only 5 minutes later by failing to deal with the Bee's first corner and first attack of the game. The ball was floated in but not cleared properly which allowed Dale Stephen to half the decifit, which I felt goalkeeper Jake Cole could have done much better with.

Barnet would never ever look anywhere close to getting an equalizer though, instead Plymouth seeing out the rest of the first half comfortable in possession and with Cowan-Hall impressing me the most by causing all sort of problems out on the left wing. Another one of the more comical moments was Collins John (He's strong, he's fast, his surname should be last) going off injured barely 15 minutes into the match, limiting their already non existant attack even further.

Half-time came and I was really grateful for some tubby lard-arse bitch (pot, kettle black I know, but its now acceptable for fat people to take the piss out of each other apparently) squeezing into next to me on the terracing and leaving me with no option other than take a few steps back. Its a good job I'm too much of a pussy to stand up for myself not the confrontational type otherwise I'd have made her wishing she was never born. Other than her though I was quite impressed that there were quite a few decent looking female fans around. We really ought to get some single ones ourselves up at Crabble......

The second half continued in much the same vein as the first with Argyle on top, with manager Carl Fletcher having made a change at half-time by bringing on Argentine winger Gurrieri for the ineffective Guy Madjo. Rhys Griffiths gave Barnet a scare when he latched onto a comically underhit backpass only to round Stack and hit the ball wide from a tight angle, despite having time and another man in the centre. The miss was almost as shocking as the backpass. Being the pessimist I am I was convinced this miss would be the turning point and it wouldn't be Plymouth's day.

But it was only a matter of time before the lead would be increased, with the source coming from my man of the match Cowan-Hall, who leapt like a salmon to head home from a free-kick despite being of pretty small stature. It was a great leap and header but yet again underlined how poor the Barnet backline was. This was only moment after Gurrieri had pulled out a fine reflex save from Graham Stack that had looked destined for the net.

Plymouth looked even more assured from here onwards but on the rare occasion Barnet did attack Maxime Blanchard had to be alert to head a Krystan Pearce header off the line after what looked like some good wingplay by ex Chelmsford wideman Ricky Holmes.

Plymouth brought on another young winger late on in place of Burnley loanee Alex McDonald in the form of Joe Lennox, with the young lad who looked like something out of one direction causing plenty of problems with his pace and direct running. He had to be denied with a last ditch tackle after racing in on goal.

The fine win had to capped off into stoppage time though, this time courtesy of a 25 yard curled free-kick from Luke Young, another player who had a very good game. The ball bounced straight back out of the goal thanks to the inside stanction which made it look confusing, with most Plymouth fans only celebrating when the ball had been prodded in by Cowan-hall. but it was very much over the line.
It was quite funny that before this goal Doddy began filming on his phone as he had done with every previous set piece nearby. I turned and said to him "FFS Doddy, you're not going to capture a goal so just give up" and then bang, the ball went in and my famous last words were caught on video.

Overall Plymouth were the worthy victors and they seem to have quite a few good young players on their books who are capable of doing better than they currently are. Fair enough Barnet were a poor side but Plymouth looked so assured throughout the contest, minus one defensive cock up. Cowan-Hall certainly looks like he's good enough to adapt to league football while the central midfielders Hourihane and Young also very much impressed me and they're still both very young. Obviously I don't watch much League Two football but on the basis I'd be hopeful that they can stay well clear of the drop this time around.

Barnet however were pretty shocking throughout most of it and lack quality in all areas of the pitch. I probably shouldn't slag off their players too much with the amount of their cast offs that seem to join us (Nicky Nicolau, Elliot Charles, Joe Tabiri, Daniel Leach, Barry Cogan,  Jason Norville, Ross Flitney, Guliano Grazioli and of course, a certain Adam Birchall) being amongst the ones I can name off the top of my head. But they looked completely out of their depth and I'd be very surprised if they complete their usual miraculous late escape from the drop that they usually do most years. 

And a final note on atmosphere. This is the only part of the game I was a tad disappointed with, considering the vast amount of Plymouth fans in attendance who were enjoying an emphatic rare away win. Although they did sing for large periods of the match, they weren't very loud in voice and the songs were a bit repetitive. "Green Army" and "Arrrr-guyy-allllll" being the two most common ones but there were also quite a few several unfunny songs more aimed at taking the piss out of their opponents than concentrating on themselves. I found the "My garden shed is bigger than this" song fairly amusing when I first heard about it as a young teenager but several grown men singing it over and over again was just a bit lame and very unoriginal. It just felt a little bit flat and half-hearted, not like the pure gutso we give it if we're winning away on a Saturday. I was expecting to be moved a few places after scoring the goals on a pretty packed terrace but there wasn't the over celebrations that we do. I guess that's the problem with being a part of bigger fanbases. Less cohesion because not many people know each other which makes people feel less comfortable about looking like a twat around others. 
But other than that Plymouth seemed like a nice, harmless bunch on the whole, although there were a few idiots that kept moaning even at 3-1 and I heard a few calls of "Fletcher out" although I'm not sure if they were being ironic or not. Also "how shit must you be, we're winning away" was one of their better songs, its the sort of self depreciating irony that I enjoy.

Just one more thing I would like to add on the game. It was quite weird watching a game relatively sober and fully concentrating on actually watching the play, noticing more of what is happening and who is playing well, etc. With no emotional attachment on the game I could watch it more relaxed. Well of course I was wanting Plymouth to win but it wasn't the be all and end all like it would have been with Dover.

We finally made our awaited arrival inside The Old Red Lion for a much needed pint of fizzy piss (fosters) in a pub swarmed with happy Argyle fans. We had to dash outside though because some heavily bearded old guy had clearly shat his pants (literally) so we drank outside instead. Christ, it wasn't half cold either. True proper winter weather has finally arrived which is the sort of weather I like for football games. At the actual game the weather had gone very erratic from blazing sunshine and having to watch the game through squinting, to a few spells of rain. But I'm looking forward to when it starts getting dark at half-time and we have to wear a scarf at every game.

Nice mug shot, Doddstopher.

After one pint in here we SUCCESSFULLY walked back towards the station area having amazingly remembered the taxi route, thus setting up a customary visit to the delightful wetherspoons. Ok, snear at me all you want David and co but I am a very skint person and it was time for me to buy a round which meant that I wanted to spend as little as possible. And I was delightfully overwhelmed to only part with £6 for two carlsbergs and a strongbow. It was quite decent for a pint of piss actually, so much so that I drunk myself 2 pints in the same time that they had finished one.

We made our way via the 6.47 train to Kings Cross, having picked up 3 cans of Grolsch each from the off licence near the station. They werent down rather nicely for the train journey back Sadly we had a half hour wait at Pancakes because of a poor connection time but that allowed Chris to grab another burger king, Doddy to grab himself a McDonalds while I just offloaded a horrid dump in the cramped burger king bogs. And then I emotionally shaked Chris's hand goodbye having not washed mine. I may be lying.

Pretty dull journey back to Dover. Me and Dodd played the 'drink while you think' game with just footballers names which was pretty entertaining as we began to run out of players beginning with 'e', 'n' and 'u' as these letters seemed to be very common. How many players can you think of beginning with 'U' off the top of your head? Ugo Egiogu was the only one that sprang to mine and I also sneakily claimed Unwar Addin, even though its Anwar Uddin.

And Dodd also made me laugh when my Triple H text theme tune blared out to which he responded to impersonating the HHH water spit  with beer which landed all over himself.

For anyone who's sad enough to not watch wrestling, hopefully that video above can shed some light for you.

We bumped into another Dover fan on the way home at Ashford, the high waisted Simon Cowell lookalikely that is Mark Moselyn, who had been off to watch Maidstone as part of that patronizing non-league wank day. They attained a near capacity crowd for that and seem to be doing well since finally moving back home. I like their supporters and hope they do well but we might have to watch our backs in the coming years.

My genuine intentions upon arriving back in Dover were this; Reluctantly see Champ in Wetherspoons for one or two pints before going home for a chinese takeaway. Typically it ended with about 8 fellow Dover fans singing karaoke in the Firkin and altering songs to Dover dittys, then throwing shapes on the Funky Monkey dancefloor all evening, before stumbling home at silly o'clock.

So overall it turned out to be a rather splendid day with all things considered. A good game to watch, a good ground to go to with reasonable pubs within the surroundings and had a few laughs along the way. Next time I find myself in the no-Dover game situation then I will consider another Plymouth day providing its at a ground I've not been to.

This Saturday brings our 4th Saturday home game on the bounce which is normally snore-tastic but it should be a good game against the early pacesetters in Salisbury City FC. I'm looking forward to it already and entertaining you with another brilliantly witty blog post on how Dover registered their 2nd home league win on the bounce.

BRING IT ON, BRING IT ON, TELL YOUR FRIENDS TO COME ALONG!

Colchester v Hartlepool: Dour Football, Nice Sandwiches.

Before I catch up with any Dover Afletik related nonsense this weekend I will actually begin my Easter weekend round up with my trip to North Essex to see Colchester take on Hartlepool in a League One clash.

""Colchester versus fucking Hartlepool?!?!" I hear you all cry. Well, I'll better use this paragraph to help justify my decision to go to such a random and yawn-inducing game.
I do have free train travel after all, which gave me the taste to get another ground ticked off the list. My initial plan was to watch my beloved Plymouth Argyle (2CW blah blah) for the first time in over seven years to watch their relegation six pointer away at Hereford. However, this included a ludicrously long journey and I would require going on my own so I decided against this.
Then my good pal Chris Hunt alerted me that he was up for going to a game seeing as he lives in the London area then he would come back down to Dover for the weekend. Our initial plan was to watch Watford v Blackpool as they had reduced all adult tickets to a tenner. Sadly though, when I went onto the online ticketing portal there was one, yes ONE seat left in the entire ground.
So after that we were left with the choice of the rest of a bad bunch. Colchester ended up being the most sensible option. It was only £13 for an under 21 ticket for me, while it set him back even less at £12 because of his armed forces discount, thus making it pretty much the same price as Crabble. And it also seemed pretty easy to get to via train - it only took one switch at Stratford International to the other Stratford station, before a direct train to Colchester.

So there you go you miserable bunch of fuckers, a good, cheap day planned out ahead. Or was it?

The day began on Good Friday with a 9.02 train into Faversham. I bought four cans from the the local newsagents nearby my Herne Bay home. Its really decent value in there for a small shop - 500ML cans of Kronenbourg, Becks, Stella, Tyskie and numerous more are only 99p can or 6 cans for a fiver, so pretty decent value. I took a mix and match with me.

Annoyingly I had to have a forty minute wait at Faversham station thanks to National Rail's awesome timetable schedules, so I headed off to the local CO-OP to top up my phone credit and pick up a few bargains in store.
Bargain 1: A salmon , cucumber and spinach sandwich that had been reduced to 70P from £3.50. It was actually pretty dissapointing and was dryer than the sahara desert. Cheap sandwiches would become a common theme throughout the journey.
Bargain 2: Ginster slices were on offer at £1. Naturally I plumped for the spicy chicken flavour as it is clearly the best out of the lot.
Yep, so that was my breakfast sorted.

Eventually the train turned up and I looked forward to cracking open a can or two as most people like to do at 10AM in the morning. But it was a pretty dull journey that was helped surpassed by reading old copies of my massive fourfourtwo collection. One thing I will say is it amazes me how quickly time goes by in football. It was over 6 years ago I began getting pissed on the way to away games as a young teenager to shitholes like Walton Casuals :sob:.

Now at Stratford International provided me a real challenge. I had nearly forty minutes for my connection but trying to find the other Stratford station left me puzzled, now they have got rid of the bus shuttles with the newly opened shopping centre behind it. But after walking around in a daze for ten minutes I managed to find my way thankfully, despite a complete lack of direction provided around the place. At least I can show the others the way next time we use this route for an away game.

Chris asked me to buy his ticket to Colchester from here as he was running late thanks to closed lines on the underground. And I have no experience of buying train tickets so I didn't have a fucking clue! I ended up buying him a super-off-peak ticket complete with a HR railcard as it looked the cheapest, but I didn't have a fucking clue whether we were off-peak or not! But I don't think we were checked whatsoever on the trains or at Colchester station so it was a pretty wasted exercise.

It was pretty hot on the Stratford Platform 10 and it brought out the best and worse of London. The scantily clad hot women being the positive part. The chavvy Essex scum and wannabe gangsters, not so much.
But I was more concerned whether Chris was actually going to make the train or not. Reading where he was on his earlier text and checking the underground map, it appeared very unlikely that he would make it over in time and would thus leave me with another 30 minutes in London, gagging to get in a pub for a pint. But as the time approached seconds away from our 11:39 departure, suddenly his beautiful carrot-topped head appeared on the platform and we were ready to head off to the inbred part of Essex. Woo-hoo!

The hour long journey included stopping past various towns of shitty ryman north clubs that I have heard of like Witham, Brentwood and Wivenhoe. Oh, and Chelmsford.
For some reason me and Chris were sat by the train toilet doors and we used this to our advantage. Whenever a female came out of the toilet we would hold our noses and go "urgh, can you fucking smell that?. discusting.". Which is hilarious/immature [delete as appropriate].
But yeah, not much to report here other than being surrounded my Jeremy Kyle essex types that should really learn how to used contraception.

We arrived in Colchester at about half 12 without a fucking clue where we had to go and what station exit we needed to use. But it didn't take long to reach our goal of finding a pub as we rocked up at the Bricklayers Arms which was evidently the Col Ewe fans choice of a pre-match drinkathon. And it was a really smart boozer with a very nice beer garden. The ales were not half-bad either. With it being an Adnams speciality, I had their Ghost Ship and Gunhill varations, both of which were very nice. As was 'Top Totty', my third pint which I clearly selected just for its name. It was fairly decently priced as-well which impressed me.
Chris's reputation as a hard man managed to evade him here though as he only managed 1 pint of cloudy cider during the entire duration. He accredited this to being straving hungry which I will give him the benefit of the doubt for, even though he consumed a packet of monster munch and a couple of bananas.

We made our way for the shuttle bus service at just gone 2PM, which was only about a minute walk away from the pub. For a £1.50 return it was great value and certainly softens the blow of them having a ground so far out of town.
There was a great moment on the bus where some bloke in a wheelchair (who curiously had an Ipswich Town sticker) got on the bus and got himself settled near the disabled zone. But the driver insisted that some person needed to move from their seat to give him more space and at this point a disgruntled old voice from the back moaned "For god's sake. How much more space does he need?!"

We arrived outside the Weston Community Homes Stadium (what a mouthful) about half 2 and I immedietly set about retrieving our match tickets. They were in an envelope and I wasn't asked for any proof or anything. The turnstiles were electric monitored with no humans on the gate so technically me and Chris could have entered the ground with an under 11 ticket if we wanted. Food for thought for next time anyway (there won't be a next time unless Dover repeat their famous 1975 cup run which included drawing 3-3 at Layer Road before winning the replay 4-1 under the bright lights of Crabble).

In the concourse bit beneath the stand Chris was desperate for some food so I decided in joining him in buying a pie and a pint. At £2.90 a balti pie and £3.80 for Fosters, its really didn't come cheap. But the pie was worth every single penny - I don't think I've had a pie as tasty as that in a long while - if ever. I think it was a locally made one and it was quite simply orgasmic.
The pint however, was a complete waste of money and I had to swiftly neck it when realised that we were only moments from kick off.

I had been warned over how sterile this new identikit stadium was by various people. The most valid echoer of this view point was a Colchester fan himself, Tom, who many of us met a few seasons ago at a service station when we bumped into some Col Ewe fans on the way back from Havant and Waterlooville. We stayed in contact and he and a few others actually joined us at our away game at Braintree last season.
Anyway, he said the stadium is awful and completely devoid of any character or homeliness feel. So much so that he rarely bothers with home games anymore and prefers to focus on away games. I can see this sentiment is echoed by quite a lot of their support. Despite faring well in League 1 in most of their seasons since the ground move, their attendances have been pretty dreadful and have completely stagnated. Sadly its a popular trend in football these days to move to a souless ground and many of these moves are unneccessary. Coventry moving from Highfield Road to Ricoh Arena is another example. HR was a perfect sized ground for them at about 22,000 yet they move to a terrible 32,000 arena and their attendances have dropped. I understand that Layer Road only held around 6,000 and they needed to move to help the club grow but they have clearly messed up with the new stadium. Chesterfield moved ground last season and have showed (according to Russell and many other sources) that you can make a decent new home. But a ground like Colchester's would make me think twice about ever wanting to leave Crabble should the situation arise, as rumours have popped up at points this season suggesting so.

Yeah, the game was one of the most dullest things I have seen in a long while, and that includes watching Dover on a weekly basis. The atmosphere was terrible as you can expect with a ground only a third full. The stand we were in behind the goal had a few drummers but no songs ever really spread around the ground. The 100 or so from Hartlepool were Borehamwood-esque in their level of noise - even when they scored. Me and Chris were on the third row from the bottom and had plenty of space around us, I even spent the entire game with my legs over seats ahead of me. I don't go to football games to watch in comfort, which is sadly seems to be the etiquette these days.

If I was expecting the football to lighten the spirits then I would be sadly wrong. I thought I had seen some terrible stuff from Dover over the previous weeks but the standard here in upper mid-table of league one was barely much better. Neither side could really string more than 3 passes together and it was your typical end-of-season nothing-to-play-for borefest with no realy quality in the game. Well, it weren't a bad move from Hartlepool down the left hand side for their opener after ten minutes with Anthony Sweeney heading home the cross but the defending was practically non-existant.
Chances were really at a premium the entire game so I had to get most of my enjoyment laughing over how bad Colchester "striker" Kayode Odejayi. Put the positional sense and first touch of Nathan Bailey and combine it with the finishing prowess of Elliot Charles and there you have Odeayi - a complete donkey. I was amazed that this was the same player that hit the headlines a few years back for scoring an FA Cup quartar final winner against Chelsea for Barnsley. Completely shocking.
The only player who really looked like they had any creative talents was West-Ham loanee Freddie Sears, who has really gone off the radar since his memorable premier league debut. He converted from the spot to equalise ten minutes from time after Colchester were awarded a ridiculously soft penalty when the 'penalised' player just seemed to slip over. Mind you, the officials were fucking shit all game, showing that whatever level your at they're guarenteed to be dreadful.

The final whistle was music to mine and Chris's ears as we had become increasingly cold, so quickly dashed off to get back on the shuttle bus in order to make the planned half 5 train back, which we managed with ease. Chris even had time to grab and expresso from the station coffee shop which quite amusingly stocked a chocolate biscuit packet called 'negro'. Quite how that made it past tranding standards I will never know!
[Upload picture here when I get the chance to]

Chris handed me a can of Carlsberg for our journey back to London. I only drunk it because I was desperately thirsty and I'd developed quite a headache by this point. I enjoyed reading my matchday programme on the journey back because it gave me the chance to gaup at how poor Colchester's away following are - most of them are barely over three figures! They even struggle to get more than 500 for their local games at Wycombe and Orient!

We missed our connection at Stratford International thanks to Chris needing to buy a ticket but this wasn't too much of a problem. Instead we headed to the nearby Waitrose (we're very posh you see) to grab some dinner and we were in for a treat. We came in just at the right time as they were reducing various of their sandwiches at silly prices and I grabbed three for the journey back. The first one was a juicy steak and caramelized onion, the second a grilled bacon and emmertal (sic?) double decker, while the third was a poor purchase without really looking. It was pastrami, emmertal (sic?) and summerkraut, which is basically a discusting german type of pickle. I ate the first two with ease but I could only have half of the latter. I think pastrami is just basically a cross between ham and beef, except it tasted cheap and nasty. In hindsight I wish I had waited for them to reduce the king prawn and rocket salad number - now that sounds beastly!

And the day was concluded with Chris showing me his laptop on the way home, showing lots of pictures of his 6 month old son and various excel spreadsheets which he keeps all his betting record and stuff on. He's a true proffessional and takes his money making very seriously.
Oh, and I also pissed him off by dropping various disgusting farts on the train home, some of which  were so bad they even embarrassed myself.

Right then, was it all worth it despite the boring football? Yeah, it weren't a bad day out in general and it certainly beats sitting at home wanking off to pop idols. I love football and I love visiting new grounds - I'm a massive geek in that respect. So I can say I managed to tick off another member of the great 92 and I've been there and done it. And it also provided a nice little warm-up to Tonbridge away the following day.....YEAH! YEAH!

Now I'll leave you with some photos of the ground. I will try not to leave it too long to do my Tonbridge and Sutton blogs, OK?

Arriving outside the ground.

Completely left empty when the smaller teams are in town.

The Away Support 'Masses'

A very exciteable bunch.

Happy Birthday messages while the game is on-going. What has English football come to?

A Weekend Cottaging With Chris Hunt

Morning everyone. Sadly last week the inevitable eventually happened on Friday afternoon and we were put out of our misery. Our game at Farnborough was finally called off thanks to a frozen pitch after a whole week of clinging onto false hope. So I had to quickly set about finding another game to go to and to see if anyone would come with me. Reading and Southampton were the two main options I considered before I received a tweet from my good buddy Chris Hunt (a fellow Dover fanatic if you're unaware) questioning if I wanted to go to Fulham v Stoke, which is right nearby his Putney home. After checking the reasonable ticket prices, my mind was immedietly made up and our tickets to my first ever Premier League game were booked up within a matter of minutes. I hadn't even looked at the PL fixtures when searching for a back up option but this game was ideal in every department. Its certainly not the most glamorous of fixtures to see your first ever Premier League game, but at least thats ticked off another thing on the 'to do' list.

I woke up on Saturday morning to discover via facebook that it was actually Chris Hunt's birthday so I had to consider the prospect of not being an arsehole through any point of the day. And a good job I planned to arrive in Putney early to allow for plenty of drinkage. I left to get the 9.44 hi-speed train into St Pancras after my father had kindly donated a tenner towards the Fulham entrance fee. The under 21 ticket cost me £25 to sit in the Putney stand so it was actually cheaper than the Crystal Palace game a month back. I wanted to sit in the old Johnny Haynes stand which was £5 a ticket cheaper but Chris wanted to sit in an area of the ground with a better view. Fair enough.

A very un-noteworthy journey into West Scumdon I must say. One thing that annoyed me some smelly old bint deciding to sit next to me on the way up to London with her numerous bags, thus squashing me. There really should be a first class section on these trains to seperate myself from all the regular peasants. What right do people think they have in sitting next to me? Do I look like the kind of person that is approachable? NO.
I had a quick fag outside St Pancras before having to get the tube over  to Vauxhall station; about 6 or 7 stops straight down the Victoria line. I used to absolutely hate getting the London underground as I used to have irrational fears after the 7/7 bombings but I don't mind it as much any more. The only nuisance is having to queue up about 10 minutes every time just to buy a ticket. I really should sort myself out an Oyster card and just save all that time and hassle.

The cross over to Vauxhall took about 10/15 minutes and I immedietly crossed the road over to the main rail station and hopped straight onto a train to Putney, which only took about 10 minutes max.
Sadly Hunty was being lazy and had not turned up to greet me from the station, so I agreed to go to the Weatherspoons accross the road and meet him there. I was pleasantly suprised that it only cost £2.30 a pint of Carlsberg in this part of the country but I wasn't pleased by waiting 30 or so minutes on my own while Christopher turned up disgracefully fashionably late, leaving me to standing on my own like a right twat.
Still, it was great to see the ginger birthday boy and we set off to find a pub that would be screening the Liverpool vs United game, so we could continue to be updated on the Suarez/Evra wankfest.

While strolling down the high street we quickly stopped into a mcdonalds for a couple of double cheeseburgers; a much needed refreshment having not eaten at that point. Well I say 'refreshment' but Mcdonalds is always one of those things you eat then immedietly regret putting such rancid garbage down your nozzle.

We did eventually settle on a Fullers pub in the high street, of which I cannot remember the name of. It was pretty packed in there and I wasn't best amused when a pint of Carling came to £3.70. Ok that is the given rate for West London but I wasn't impressed for such a piss-poor lager that was poorly poured, with about an inch of head at the top of it. But awfully poured pints seemed to be a reccurent theme for the day.
We caught the majority of the first half in there before moving onto a Sports bar nearby for the second half. Thankfully we missed the ugly shrek-alike putting Manure two goals ahead while smoking outside although we did hear the roars from outside. Yes, in a pub a few miles between Fulham and Chelsea's ground you still get plenty of glory hunting scum in the area.

This was quite a decent pub for what it was. There were plenty of TV screens in there showing plenty of different sports but obviously mainly focusing on the big one. £3.50 a fosters here was considered 'cheaper' in here but a bottle of strawberry kopperberg for Hunty came to £4.20. Ouch! Some of the barmaids in here though were absolutely cracking in here, as were most of the totty in the area. There was some hideously ugly barmaid/barman though who we genuinely couldn't work out what sex it was.

Chris bought me and him another kopperberg in here despite me being eager to move onto the ground, an instinct I eventually would end up regretting not doing. We left this pub with just under 20 minutes before kick off and would end up missing the opening 5 minutes of the match.

It was quite a lovely scenic walk to the ground though, albeit with loads of pedestrian congestion as there were thousands of others leaving it to the last minute. The ground is right by the river Thames so you get a nice walk accross there and through a park. It took a good 15 minutes though and I ended up getting my BRIGHT WHITE trainers caked in really sloppy mud as my temper began to rise.

We actually arrived outside the ground in time for kick-off but would be held up because of the stupid fucking self-scanning machine in the turnstiles that didn't recognise our e-tickets. What ever happened to the good old fashioned human-beings operating on the turnstiles? I hadn't had a problem with E-tickets at Crystal Palace or Birmingham but for some reason they decided not to work here and we had to wait a good few minutes before somebody could help us out and manually let us into the ground.

By the time we got into Craven Cottage we were also both desperate for a piss after vast amounts of alcohol consumed so by the time we got inside the ground the game was already well underway and we had to be the annoying arseholes that walked past numerous people, as our seats were right at the bottom of the stand just to the side of the goal.

I was rather impressed by the ground and its certainly amongst one of my favourites that I have been to. With four seperate stands, the ground has a perfect blend of modern and old school, with the rusty Johnny Haynes stand on the right looking ancient. There was also an awesome cricket-pavillion type thing on the corner to the right of me. Certainly a lot cooler than filling the corners into seats.
The ground is very compact and thus would make for a good atmsophere, providing it has the right fans in it. I couldn't quite believe the ground holds 26,000 seats as it feels significantly less than that, although the stand I was in was deceivingly steep. Overall I thought it was a lovely ground and we enjoyed close pitch side views.

As for the football; wow. I actually managed to see a half-decent game as a neutral for once.
I have to admit I rarely keep up with ongoings in the Premier League these days so I was absolutely chuffed to John Arne Riise lining up in a Fulham shirt. He was one of my favourite players from my embarrasing spell as a plastic Liverpool fan, he's a very dependable player that I've always felt is very underrated and he had a good game here.
I was also unaware that Fulham had recently signed Pavel Pobregnyak on loan; a player that I've been very familiar with on football manager and fifa games over the years.
It was great to see other players like Mark Schwarzer, Matthew Upson, Peter Crouch, Damien Duff and the superb Clint Dempsey close up in the flesh.

Fulham played some very nice football going forward in spells and fully deserved their lead when the new Russian lad put them ahead after 15 minutes. He latched onto a Riise pass to sweep in a fine left footed finish into the roof of the net, sending me and Christophere into raptures.

And we only had to wait another 10 minutes before we'd be off our feet again celebrating another goal. It was my third favourite American after Phil Brooks and Kelsea Grammer, Clint Dempsey, who unleashed a superb swerving shot from about 30 yards out. Sorensen did his best to reach it  but couldn't and the ball came bouncing off of the cross bar and hit him as it rolled over the line. Sadly for Clint it theoritcally will go down as an own goal but it was a superb hit which he fully deserves the credit for. The Fulham website has a picture of the strike which clearly includes mine and Chris's faces to the bottom left of the screen;

Fulham had a further golden chance in the first half when Damien Duff was denied by Sorensen from close range as Fulham comfortably dominated the first half proceedings. Stoke looked very poor and very suspect defensively, bar Shawcross who looks like a decent player. Most of their play involved hoofing balls long to the inneffective Kenwyne Jones and Peter Crouch, the latter being particularly poor throughout the game.
I was suprised by how even uglier in the flesh he is.  He looks like anything but a footballer and the way he runs about is very amusing. A complete freak, bless him.

Also what was ugly was Stoke's style of play, which I have been told on various occasions about it being very direct and cynical. Numerous needless hacks, particularly from Wilson Palacios, prompted a rather amusing but accurate chant of "2-0 to the football team" from  the home supporters.

Hunty left the stand a few minutes before half time as he was keen to get a beer in for each of us while I was determined to see as much of the game as I could. And I was pleased he did as the queues behind the stand were horrific. I can understand people needing to go for a piss but it always amazes me how much people are prepared to pay for shitty overpriced food. They were selling hot dogs that looked like they were made out of plastic for £4.50 a go. And people are prepared to queue up for ages to buy them. I just can't understand it.

Indeed, the £4.20 a pint is pretty horrific but when you're on the piss all day its a far bigger neccessity than somebody not being able to go a few hours without food. And even then, I'd be prepared to go without a drink if the queues are too long. I only had one here because Chris kindly offered to get them.

In the second half Stoke came out much stronger and particularly pushed on after Pogrebnyak went off with an ankle injury and that annoying twat Pulis brought on Ricardo Fuller and Jermained Pennant. They looked dangerous from set-pieces as they usually do and it was Shawcross who halved the decifit with a glancing header from the near post. The ball looked like it was heading wide from where we were sat but it was a fantastic connection for the goal.

Stoke could eventually count themselves unlucky not to grab themselves a point as they pressed hard to find a late equaliser. Peter Crouch somehow volley wide from close distance when he should have hit the target and the bombarded the box with plenty of dangerous balls. They were also helped by 5 minutes of injury time which seemed to have been very excessive for a half with very few stoppages. But it was Fulham who should of seen the game off when Dempsey rounded past Sorensen in the final minute, but could only hit the post with the empty goal ahead of him. The angle was fairly tight in fairness.

But the game finished 2-1 to Fulham and was a pretty fair scoreline on reflection, of what was a decent game as neutral games go for me, particularly after the Birmingham score last week. The only letdown here was the atmosphere, which I had suspected would be poor. Fulham were very quiet for the vast majority of the game, other than a small section in the Johnny Haynes stand attempting to get some songs going. Stoke fans to the left of us managed to sell out the majority of their allocation but only really got going for very short periods. I was rather unimpressed by their "delialiah" anthem that everybody seems to rave about.
Our stand was full of ground hoppers and neutrals, or so it seemed. Their wasn't any real sense that the fans were that passioniate and the whole feel of the club is that their a pretty tinpot one that are punching above their level. There were very few replica shirts on display for a premier league ground. While i'm not saying a wearing a club shirt is necessarily a measure of support, it can give an indication.
But overall I quite like Fulham; their harmless and they play football the right way. Good luck to them.

One negative about the ground was the lack of exits, and it took a while to get out of the ground. There was major congestion as we walked back to the town centre; we even had to queue to get through the park gates! But we eventually managed to get into the original weatherspoons, which we decided was the best (cheapest) option to get some beer and grub. We did stop via an argos though, because Chris seemed eager for me to come round his house and play some FIFA, so he bought another xbox controller. I however, was tired and had work the following morning so rejected the idea, even though I felt bad for doing so on his birthday. I instead promised i'll stay round for the rearranged Hampton away game where I can finally meet his few month old son.

We both decided it was GOURMET BURGER time, and this was one of them weatherspoons that very much delivered in quality, with an abundance of monterrey chilli sauce on the beautiful chicken number. I think I managed to neck this one in record time as I had finished up even by the time Chris had not even finished eating his chips.

After finishing in here (where Chris had managed to spill nearly a full bottle of kopperberg) we headed over the road for one more pint in a pub I CAN remember the name of; The Fox and Hounds. This was a pretty decent pub that was screening both Tottenham v Newcastle and Blackpool v Portsmouth games on sky, and the beer only cost around the £3 mark. It also had a heated beer garden with a tv screen too.
It was quite funny in here because some chubby cockney recognised the badge on my Dover jacket. "Oiiiiiiii. Are you boys Dovaaaaaaar?" He then proceeded to explain in his cockney dialect than he and his pal follow Tooting and Mitcham and can remember coming to Crabble. He seemed to be a bit fond of the cricketers pub, which I sadly had to explain to him is a shadow of its former self. He was thick as shit and quite amusing but kept rambling on to us as we tried getting outside for a fag. "Yeah we got loadsaaa munny now, got big investment up 'ere" he said, explaining their new found wealth. I wouldn't mind seeing them up here actually; they have a decent ground and its a good away day. But he was getting bloody irratating as he kept rambling on about "big investments" and enquiring about whether we still had the drum.

Eventually we got rid of him, and soon after I had to bid farewell to Christopher in order to get back to Herne Bay at a reasonable time and thats exactly what I did.
I had to go back a different way this time; via Clapham Junction and London Victoria, plus another fucking bus from Faversham to Herne Bay. I don't know if any of you have been to Clapham Junction but its a right bastard to navigate around, being the largest station in the country. Fortunately my train was only about 10 platforms away for I managed to meet all my connections in time and got back to Herne Bay by about 10PM. As always, the matchday programme kept me from severe boredom on my lonely travel back but I was dissapointed that Fulham didn't list the official away attendances in their matchday programme so I could laugh at some of their pitiful away followings.

Sadly a good day out had a large dampener when I got home. My mum had gone off to Margate with her boyfriend for some sort of music gig and thus left a key behind for me at the local pub she works in. So after retrieving it from this pub that I hate, I was horrified to discover it was a dud key that wouldn't unlock the door. So this meant sitting in a pub for two and a half hours with no money, no drink, no match of the day and a few hours less sleep than planned. Brilliant.
Funnily enough the last time I couldn't get in after an away game was with Chris. For his last game before he joined the army, a 3-1 win away at Chipstead, we stayed in the (old) Old Endeavour til about half 2 in the morning after a lock in. By the time we got back to my house we realised I didn't have a key. We didn't want to awaken face the wrath of my dad my beautiful family by knocking on the door so we instead climbed round to my back garden and slept in my cobweb-ridden shed, with just a few tent materials covering us. Great memories. I woke up about 5 hours later to vomit in the garden.

Anyway, it looks like we can finally go back to talking all things DAFC as this horrid weather seems to be behind us (well Herne Bay park this morning has had all the snow cleared overnight and the pitch is very soggy). Sadly I'm working tomorrow so I have to miss this last-minute arranged friendly against Whitstable, and it sadly ruins my attempts to get a 100% attendance record this season, although im going to exclude this and the Maidstone Kent Senior Cup game.
While i've enjoyed being a ground hopping loser over the past month, I just can't wait to get the season going again after a 3 week exile so it will hopefully be a cracker as we welcome some little Cornwall outfit to Crabble. They've had a wildly unpredictable season, beating both us and Dartford and hammering Farnborough 8-1, but have also suffered numerous heavy defeats aswell. They could either be eager beavers or completely jet lagged after travelling their longest distance of the season but I think they're used to the travelling by now. Hopefully it will be a good game but more importantly, a 3 points to get our play-off bid back on track. Heres hoping anyway. I'll see you all in the Old Endeavour from 11AM.

Another Weekend Of Being A Ground-Hopping Loser

With Hampton & Richmond annoyingly deciding to go on an FA Trophy run this season, our away fixture with them was postponed which freed up another weekend for us. Having got the Sunday off of work, I decided that I would take in Birmingham v Southampton at St Andrews with Russell and have a night out in Nottingham afterwards. While the prospect of watching two Championship sides gunning for promotion was a mouth-watering one, it completely failed to live up to any expections, mainly in part to the atrocious weather which would have certainly of seen our match with Hampton been posponed regardless.

As I woke up on Saturday morning I hadn't actually planned to get any specific train, instead waiting to see if the predicted snow had fallen over night and put the plans into jeopardy. Thankfully they hadn't and there was only a thin layer of snow in Dover and having checked the live departure boards the trains seemed to be running fine (shock horror). With the game kicking off at 5:20PM and it being live on Sky, I had plenty of time to get there and there was little danger of the game being called off regardless of how bad condition the pitch would be in - anyone who remembers the farce at Ipswich last season will know that if the game is on Sky then it will go ahead at all costs.

Anyway, I decided on getting the 10.44 out of Dover which would give me and Russell plenty of time to get some cheeky lagers down us (or a lager, in his case).  But before leaving I discovered a lottery ticket in my wallet from the previous weekend, which I checked just by the off-chance that I might win something on it for the first time ever. And I had! A massive tenner, after matching three numbers, which was a very welcoming bonus.
I also had four cans of Kronenbourg left outside from the Dorchester game a fortnight ago and they were awesomely ice cold thanks to the conditions, so I picked them up and set off oooop north to the land where inhabitants are unable to pronounce words in proper English.

As this train journey was on my lonesome, theres no particular exciting tale to tell. I charged my phone up on the excellent hi-speed train to London and for the majority of both journeys I spent reading a couple of FourFourTwo magazines from the previous few months that I haven't read. When you can be arsed to go through the articles in full detail then its not actually a bad magazine, but I'm not in any hurry at the moment to renew my suscription to it.

I had to make the short 10 minute walk over to Euston for my train to Birmingham New Street, and had enough time to use my BOGOF Burger King Voucher for Two Angus burgers before hopping onto the fantastic virgin train. Its train companies like that that make having free first class rail travel all the more fantastic. Its keeps me away from the regular working class scratters like myself and leaves me to get on with life in comfort and in peace. You do get the looks from train guards "what the fuck is that fat scruffy prick doing on here? I best get over there and tell him to move away" but as soon as they approach i'm already waving my perfectly valid ticket in their face. Its great.
So another journey of consisting of not doing very much - devouring my burgers (which like most fast foods, were disgusting and greasy but rather succulent at the same time), drinking my cans of kronenbourg while continuing to read my 442 magazines in depth. It was an incedibly short journey though - taking around 1 hour, 25 minutes to get into Northern territory. Its amazing how quick it is to get to places once you've reached London. The hi-speed journey to London from Dover only took marginally less than it did to get to Birmingham. Quite incredible really when you consider it will probably take longer to get to Farnborough next weekend should the game go ahead. 3 hours from Dover to Birmingham is fairly impressive in the grand scheme of things, particularly when it includes a 30 minute wait at London.

I arrived into the station about 5 minutes before Russell did from his Nottingham gaff. Amusingly though, we somehow failed to spot each other despite me waiting in the main entrance for him, and it took several minutes, a phone call and few exchanged texts to finally see each other's face.

It was fucking typical that as soon as we arrived the inevitable snow finally decided to make its appearence. So while we were trying to make our way round Birmingham and find a nearest boozer in the freezing cold we received texts from a few other Dover boys, saying they wanted to meet us for a drink. The likes of Jared, Sappo and Martyn, plus a few others, were staying coincidently staying in Birmingham after having a pre-booked drinking weekend there. So we eventually had to walk all the way back to the station to find them, where we jumped into a cab to get to a weatherspoons which was nearby their hotel.

Sadly, this weatherspoons would be the only pub in Birmingham that we drink in. Due to the horrific bouts of snow outside, we couldn't really be arsed to venture out in a massive city where we didn't know where anything was. And weatherspoons serves really well when you want to keep to a budget and not spend silly amounts. Although I was drinking more premium that I usually do - a shortage of carlsberg led me onto a pint of Kronenbourg and I also had 3 pints of Amstel, which flowed down exquisitely.
Other than listening to tales of what the others had got up to the other night, we didn't really do much. Russell ordered himself a burger and had two pints of guiness, a strange choice of tipple for somebody who isn't even 20 years old.
The most entertaining part though was Martyn 'Doozer' McGarrigle. He'd met up with some girl he knew and brought her along to the pub, probably in the hope that he'd end up smashing her backdoors in later on. But there was one stumbling block in his way; the young lady in question 2 year old son. The little annoying shit screaming terror proved quite to be a irrattible nuisance cock block as Martyn tried to show his sensitive side in playing the father role, while bemoaning the kid whenever the female in question went off. It was quite entertaining.

But around the 4:30PM mark we bid our farewells and hailed a cab outside the weatherspoons to take us to St Andrews, which seemed like quite a distance away from where we were. The fee cost me and Russell £4 each but you never know whether taxi drivers are deliberately taking you on a slow route.

Anyway, we got out of the taxi with the skies still pelting out snow, meaning we didn't want to hang about outside the ground. I quickly bought a programme, as I always do when I visit a proper ground, before trying to find our seats that Russell has bought online earlier in the day. We initially went to the wrong stand so had to make our way over to the other side. There didn't seem to be too many people about for what is a fairly large Championship club.
We eventually found our entrance block and easily managed to get in with our under 19 tickets, which cost an impressive £11. Fairly decent considering a 19 year old at Crabble has to pay £12 to get in.

We stayed inside the warmth until just before kick-off. I bought myself a pie and pint for £5.80, in what is considered a special deal at St Andrews. The pie was a branded one (Premier I think?) and the steak and kidney goodness went down rather well amidst the freezing conditions. As did my final proper pint of the day.

My first thoughts of the ground was that it was pretty decent. Nothing particularly special though and nowhere I would want to go back to in a hurry. We were in the middle of the stand, right in the front row of the ground so got a decent view. The main stand on the other side seemed quite old and in need of re-furbishment, but was probably the most characteristic stand in the ground. The other stand in which the away supporters were seated was the best in my opinion; a two tiered beast that was near to the home supporters and made for some good banter. Anyway, I'll shut the fuck up and show a few photos.

A closer look at the Saints travelling support, who were in good voice all game.

Clearing the snow at half time

Annoying fat Southampton bastard at the bottom, thinking he was amusing by having his shirt off the entire game. I hope he caught pneumonia.

 

But yes, another ground ticked off from the Great 92 for moi, but I certainly prefered a more traditional ground like Crystal Palace. The 17902 spectators who turned up at St Andrews for this clash was only marginally more than 17000 odd at Selhurst Park 3 weeks back, but there seemed so much more there at the latter, mainly because the fans were less spread out in the stadium. There were plenty of empty seats in the lower tier that me and Russell were in (which enabled us to sit closer to the Saints fans in the second half) and the ground felt half-empty (which it pretty much was). Cue a chorus of "They're here, they're there, they're every fucking where, empty seats, empty seats" from the travelling contigent, which I assume was ironic given the St Mary's is hardly much better.

Anyway onto the football. Well, what little football was played anyway. I said to Russell before the game that this game would either be action packed and full of mistakes, drama and plenty of goals or the whether would completely kill the game as a spectacle. Sadly, it was the latter. I didn't feel that the pitch was particularly dangerous - the players seemed to stay on their feet for the majority of the contest. But neither side could take control in the game and you'd be lucky to find either side stringing along a move consisting of more than 5 passes. It really was an utterly fucking woeful game, completely devoid of any real chances. Curtis Davies glanced a header wide in the first half but thats about as close as it got for either side. Although in credit to both teams, they did both defend well in  the horrid conditions. But that's not what I paid my money to see!
One positive note of the first half was me probably appearing on Sky TV. I don't now if anyone watched the full match but at some point in the first half I managed to catch the ball and throw it directly to one of the Southampton players for the throw-in. LOOK AT ME I'M FAMOUS FACT.

For the second half, me and Russell decided to sit closer to the Southampton fans who had been making a decent racket for most of the game, and were a rare breed in the fact they had some original chants. Unfortunately this meant sitting behind some annoying brummies, and some typically fickle home supporters, the type who constantly scream "keep it on the deck" and "for fuck sake, not good enough" in their whiney non sensicle brummie accents.
But the back and forth between both sets of supporters proved to be the most exciting thing in the second half, as the game sadly never picked up. Sadly, I can't remember most of the witty retorts but I do remember a couple.

"We wanna go home, Birmingham's a shithole, we wanna go home"
Which was responded with "We wanna go home, It's fucking freezing, I wanna go home"

"We'll slip where we want, we'll slip where we want, we're Birmingham City we don't give a fuck" was one that amused me then the tannoy announcer advised the support to keep safe when exiting the ground.

Birmingham fans were probably outsung by by Southampton fans, which is a no shame considering hardly any football grounds are fortresses these days. But the home support did attempt to make some noise at times, with most of it aimed at Aston Villa. Heck, their first song of the evening was "shit on the villa".
I full accept the concept of big rivalries but i've never understood why teams sing against their rivals when they're not playing them? Fair enough if its something like "Are you x team in disguise" but singing specific anti-rival songs is very pointless in my opinion. And that extends to even when we do it sometimes.

Back to the game though. The second half only featured two moments that I feel are worth jotting down. First was the sending off of Southampton's Danny Fox fairly late on, for a second yellow card. I didn't see the full incident but it appeared to be a bit harsh. Which brings me to another point that I raised with Russell at the match. Why the fuck do supporters clap off a player that has got themselves sent off? I admitted that I've probably been guilty of it myself in the past but its another strange concept in the footballing world.

Secondly was Ricky Lambert's 88th minute free-kick. Southampton had won themselves a decent looking free-kick about 25 yards out, which spelt dangerous news with free-kick specialist Lambert still on the pitch. Perfect shooting distance to try and bend it in, or even to strike it hard and low and hope it finds its way into the goal with the chaotic conditions. But no, instead one of the highest rated players outside the top flight decides to float a weak ball into a crowded box and the ball gets cleared immedietly for another failed Brummie counter attack. What a stupid fucking waste - at least have a bloody attempt for christ sake. As a neutral I was very pissed off so i'd be very angry if I was a Southampton fans that had travelled up for that..

Despite willing on either side that was attacking forward, neither side could produce a goal, or even come close to it for that matter, so the final whistle from Phil Dowd was welcome music to our ears, which had almost turned blue in the sub zero temperatures.

The first thing me and Russell tried doing was finding a bus stop as we exited the stadium, but we got a lucky break almost right away as we hailed a rare cab within the area. Although the taxi driver ended up going by a few dead ends in the thick snow, me and Russell didn't mind paying a £5 fee each as we were just desperate to keep in the warmth, and not get lost on the way to the station.

We entered the station to discover our train was in only 6 minutes, so I rushed into the offy to pick up four cans while Russell bought himself a poncy baguette for an extorniate price. Who has the correct priorities? I ended up drinking all four cans to myself aswell, and had a good read of my programme on the train, which had been too cold to read at the actual game. We suffered about 35 minutes worth of delays on the train and tram, and didn't get back into Russell's flat until 10PM. Luckily, I was in a pissed-but-not-too-pissed state and was in a reasonable condition to go out.

I can't be arsed to go into major details over what happened in Nottingham, so i'll keep it brief. Russell's flat-mate Matthew was celebrating his birthday so aswell as my fat stinking presense, there were another 9 or 10 lads in the flat making guest appearences. Luckily most of them seemed alright (and Newcastle fans) and I ended up having a pretty decent night out in Rock City again, a grotty but loveable club that was a bit of a let down on the music front this time. Soo much cheesy American pop-rock stuff like Green Day and Bullet for a valentine rather than focusing on decent stuff like nirvana. The muff was up to a high standard too but not quite the level of last time, sadly.

Anyway, this night ended up with me falling asleep locked inside his toilet, (Where have we heard this before?), in an enjoyable but not very eventful (as far as im aware, other than bumping into some Stevenage fans) evening out. I had drunk enough to chunder in his garden the following morning, but recovered enough to thrash Russell and his flat mate Luke numerous times on FIFA without tasting defeat myself. TRUE HERO.
I had planned on going home on the Sunday but with my hangover, simply couldn't be arsed to make the effort, so enjoyed the delights of Nottingham and his his other flat-mate James, for another 24 hours.

Overall, the football fucking sucked but it proved to be quite an enjoyable weekend. I tend not to mind having free weekends without Dover because it means that I can visit another ground, while I'll always go to the re-arranged fixture anyway. Everyones a winner!

Mind you, I sincerely hope Saturday's fixture at Farnborough doesn't fall victim to this shit weather. Theres numerous people up for the train journey on Saturday and it looks like we'll be dressing up in suits/smart clothes, so it should be a good day as out as well as a chance for Nicky Forster's men to get out play-off bid back on track.

A Weekend Of Being A Ground-Hopping Loser

A weekend without any football was a daunting prospect thanks to Hampton's annoying habit of continously winning in the FA Trophy. So without a DAFC game to get my teeth stuck into, I weighed up many possible options of where I could obtain my football fix. Sheffield Wednesday vs Charlton was my plan  as of Friday, where I would meet Russell en route. Then I had a sudden change of heart and realised I didn't really want to spend 9 hours travelling to and from a game on my own. So instead I opted for Crystal Palace vs Leeds with Selhurst Park being a new ground and easily accessible by train. Any plans for Sheffield would put on hold until the the 4th of February, another possible date with no DAFC fixture should Hampton overcome East Thurrock in their replay on Tuesday evening. I have no work on the Sunday that weekend so any Northern game would be easier then and thankfully Russell understood me letting him down.

So with all that all said and done, it was time to head off into the Nations capital for what sounded like quite an appetizing Npower Championship fixture. I headed up to Dover Priory station for the 10.44 train into ST.Pancras with my family in tow, as they were off to Ashford for a spot of swimming. I attempted to find my mate Alex Wilshaw, a Leeds/Dover two club wanker whom I've mentioned many times on here before but couldn't find him. He was off to the game with his fellow Dover based Leeds fans so I was a bit curious and nervous about joining his crew. However I eventually received a text from his number saying he was in the back carriadge of the train which I somehow managed to miss, so joined him just after reaching Folkestone.

Luckily I was'nt made to feel too uncomfortable. Alex's girlfriend Camilla was also in attendance which put me at ease. He was only with four other members of the dirty Leeds scum, one of them being his father whom I had never met before. I was a bit suprised by his fairly youthful appearence as I envisaged that Alex would have a really old, bearded father based on Alex's dour personality. But that wasn't the case and they were pretty friendly and I never felt too out of place. But Alex did attempt to unsettle me by telling the others that I hate Leeds. My reaction was to pretend that I only say anti-Leeds things to wind up Alex, which isn't the case at all.

I've always had an irrational dislike of Leeds. I've just pretty much jumped on the bandwagon from stories and opinions of the older fellows. All the tales of dirty Leeds scum and them cheating their way to success under Don Revie has just meant that I've always revelled in their demise.
Saying that, I've never really been keen on Crystal Palace either. Ever since I had a few bronzes chucked at my head by their supporters following a Charlton v Palace game I went to as a neutral, I have not been particularly keen on them ever since. So I went into this game just hoping that football would be the winner.

The journey to St Pancras went very swiftly as it always does. I did drink a couple of budweisers that were still nestling into my bag, even though I didn't have any real intentions of drinking. But it was a suprisingly bright day for mid January so fuck it, why not? I indulged in lots of Leeds related discussions because being a football fan, I know lots about football even though I very much don't support them.

Upon arrival in London we were greeted by Josh Watkins, who was spending the day there with Camilla while the real men fucked off to football. Annoyingly, on the underground I had to buy a tube ticket which involved queuing up for ten minutes, mainly because their are always annoying foreigners/old people that spend ages fucking around and asking questions rather than just getting on with buying tickets. I'm a very impatient person.

We made the short 10 minute tube ride to Victoria. There was a comical moment on the esculators there, in which a middle-aged man tripped against his suitcase and fell backwards, where Josh was on hand to save the day and prevent him from smashing his head. While the initial reaction was one of concern, when it became evident he was alright I couldn't help but piss myself laughing in my mind.

Being in Victoria at midday called for one thing - a pint. Luckily there is a decent weatherspoons opposite the station, where a lot of other Leeds fans had congregated. Another thing on my mind, and Josh's, was food. Having skipped breakfast this was a perfect opportunity to indulge in my favoured beloved chicken gourmet burger. It took a short while to find ourselves a table but we eventually managed to settle down.
But as soon as we had made ourselves comfortable, Alex's Leeds crew had finished their pints and were ready to head towards Selhurst Park. With food still on the way for me, there was no way I was going to sacrifice that so we bidded farewell to Alex and co with the hope I would catch him up before kick-off.

After much eager anticipation mine and Josh's burgers arrived. But would it live up to to the extra London prices?
Well, the chips were'nt very nice as they had been overcooked. But I was prepared to overlook that as the burger was sumptious even by weatherspoons standards. Plenty of the monterey chilly sauce to go along with the succulent chicken breast. It was like having an orgasm in my mouth. The only qualms I have with these burgers are that they should not be consumed within distance of the public. They're too messy to eat in a dignified manner that is even makes me feel embarrassed. At one point I tried using my knife and fork to eat it!

Using the google search function, I am showing you a typical gourmet burger.

That went down like a sack of shit and combined superbly with the watered down Carlsberg that acompanied it. It gave me the perfect fuel for the 13:22 train into Selhurst, which I began on my own after an emotional farewell to Camilla and Josh as they headed off to god knows where.

Fortunately I don't mind my own company which is a good thing I was would have to spend the next several hours with it. Fortunately the journey from Victoria to Selhurst was only a brief one last 20 odd minutes. Only thing of note here was having some geeky star wars looking nerd sit next to me which was dissapointing.

Luckily going to watch a proper football club like Palace I needn't have had any worries about finding the ground from the station. I'd heard it was only about a 10 minute walk and luckily it was only that at a maximum. All I had to do here was to follow the droves of people. There were many away games over the course of the Ryman South seasons where we turned up unprepared with no idea where the ground was. The bad thing about this was that most of the locals had no idea where it was either! I recall one trip to Croydon Athletic where we received 3 different set of directions from different people! So fortunately I did not have to go fret about finding the ground as I'm very useful at getting lost, particularly when I'm on my own.

I text Alex to find out which pub they were in and I received a text back. It wasn't at the one I was nearby so I couldn't be arsed to search for it and get lost. Instead, I bought myself a programme which is quite unusual because I rarely ever buy programmes. Well I do on the occasion I go to a proper football ground because they're actually proffesional and worth reading. It was certainly worth the £3 expenditure.

Elsewhere I bought myself a bottle of oasis from the Sainburys which is basically attached the ground. I didn't fancy buying over-priced drinks inside the ground so I thought I would neck this and a chug a few cigerettes before entering the ground as obviously proper football grounds are no-smoking venues these days.
But my real issue was actually trying to find the entrance to actually get into the ground. I couldn't find it anywhere. I asked a steward near the away end where the entrance to the family stand was and he told me it was around the other side. Once I got round there I still couldn't find it! So I asked another steward and he told me it was where I was initially. It confused the fucking hell out of me, as I could see no entrance 7 sign anywhere. After going back to the first steward he confirmed it was at the turnstile he was standing by after all. DOH

I had paid for my ticket the previous evening online to save any hassle of paying on the day. I quite liked the booking system on there because it enabled me to choose a specific seat. In the end I chose to sit in the family stand, partly because it was cheaper (at 26 fucking quid!) and secondly because I know its normally the most sparsely populated stand. As somebody with a hatred of the general public, this made sense. I actually chose a rather splendid seat which enabled me to get a good view of the game and it was one where there were no other bookings on my row so I wouldn't have to constantly move for people who need to go for a piss every 5 seconds. Also, it was situated near the Leeds fans so I would be able to closely study their support and perhaps get a glimpse of Alex and co.
Finally, a quick note on the turnstiles. They had to be the tightest ones I have ever been through. As a massive lard arse, it was quite some squeeze and I could only begin to wonder how the Jason Mcfarlane's of this world would have coped.

Entering the stadium.

The view from my seat.

Where the Leeds fans congregated. It wasn't even 2:30PM at the time I entered the ground but their allocation would eventually get filled out.

View of the main stand, just prior to kick off.

A view of the impressive Holmesdale End

The Dirty Leeds scum marching on together.

A closer look at the Holmesdale end.

I had hoped to take more pictures and videos of the ground at various points of the day but I was already feeling concious at coming accross as a groung-hopping nerd so I only really got my camera out on the sly. I already looked like a massive twat being on my own with a backpack!

I enjoyed soaking up the pre-match fun before the game. Seeing the stadium fill out, reading parts of the programme. All that jazz. I eventually got contact of Alex, who had also ventured into the ground fairly early. He couldn't see where I was, even though I had caught sight of him clearly. He pleed with me to wave accross to them but I certainly did not want to come accross as if I was a Leeds fan sitting in the home end. So instead I awkwardly flapped my programme above my head in acknowledgement and eventually he caught glimpse of me.

I really liked Selhurst Park the stadium. Its a proper traditional football ground, with low enclosed roofs that make for a proper atmosphere. Both stands alongside each side of the pitch are fairly identical, while the Holmesdale end is a very impressive two tiered stand that is the most modern out of all the stadium. The stand I watched the game from is the smallest but still gives a very good view of the game. I also liked the fact that its in an urbanised area. A much refreshing change from most of the crappy modern idenikit out of stadium bowl grounds that are doing the rounds now.

There were a couple of cringeworthy tinpot moments leading up to the kick-off though. Firstly was the Palace cheerleading girls doing a dance routine as part of the 'entertainment'. While I initially thought "ooooh scantily clad fit girls doing a provocative dance routine" the novelty wore off after about a minute.
Then there was the matter of the annoying matchday announcer. What is it with their annoying Americanized bullshit? This one was screeching in a over-the-top annoying voice and pleaded with the Palace faithfully to "Make some noise for Dougies boys". Urgh. Fuck off.

That said though, I was looking forward to kick-off between two sides that harbour realistic ambitions of reaching the play-offs this season. Palace being on a particular high after winning the first leg of their carling cup semi against Cardiff last Tuesday. Leeds defence has leaked goals for for fun this season while Palace have a lot of exciting youngsters in their squad, I had reasonable justification to expect a bit of value for the £26 I departed with. But with most games I attend as a neutral always seeming to turn out to being dull I wasn't totally convinced.

Still, the game got off to a flyer. By the time Palace had taken the lead in the 7th minute they were already good value for it. In the early exchanges some neat attacking play for Palace saw Chris Martin (no, not the Coldplay frontman) have a shot saved by Lonergan in goal, whom then reacted well again to a Palace rebound.

But Martin would give Palace the lead a few minutes later after some good work by Darren Ambrose on the right hand side. Martin was left in acres of space and the Leeds defenders invited him to run at them. He struck an excellent low shot from 20 yards that found the bottom right corner. I jumped off of my seat and pretended to be overwhelmed, while immedietly giving Alex a cheeky text asking him to "pick that one out". He didn't respond.

Palace continued to look strong going forward as Leeds didn't really impress me at all. But they didn't go agonizingly close to salvaging an equaliser but for the brilliance of Julian Speroni in the Palace goal. He made a superb serve from Adam Clayton before reacting to a well-drilled shot accross the goal from the rebound. It was an absolutely outstanding double save, world-class. Had that happened in the Premier League he would be soaking in the plaudits.

Other than that though, Leeds certainly looked to lack any real spark up front. Ross Mccormack struck a free kick on the edge of the area wide and that was about it for their first half offense. In contrast, Palace looked dangerous going forward and had opportunities to extend their lead. Chris Martin should have done better when he shot straight at Lonergan while Darren Ambrose was unlucky to see his 25 yard shot just fizzle over the bar.

Sadly though, the referee decided to spoil  the contest just before the break by sending off constant Palace threat Sean Scannell for two of the softest yellows I have ever seen. It seemed like a desperately unfair decision for the only two soft fouls he had made all game, while much more meatier challenges went unpunished. From that moment forward, even though I had gone into the game as a neutral I began finding myself rooting for Palace.

The referee went off to an understandably angry reception while I decided to use the half time break as an opportunity to stretch my legs. The leg room at the stadium was awful while I hate sitting down at football anyway. I kept thinking during the game how good stadiums like Selhurst Park would be if they had controlled terracing in areas of the ground. But that is a debate for another day.
I saw some Leeds fans smoking outside the stand so I thought I would see if there was an area I could go for a cheeky snout. Unfortunately not. While I can begrudgingly understand why big football venues operate on a no smoking policy, surely they should allow people to smoke in the outside bits? We're not harming anyone but ourselves. Having not been on the gas all day I wasn't as desperate as I normally would be but a no-smoking policy in non-league would seriously put me off. Going 90 minutes without the chance to reduce stress levels is fucking hard as a smoker. I'm sure though that I don't have all of your sympathy.

Otherwise I just watched the first half incidents on the TV  while hundreds of people queued up for food and the toilets. It's always amazed me how people cannot go a full couple of hours without having to eat food at a football game. The lengths people queue just to have a bit of shitty overpriced food?! And I say that as a fat person. Drinks, fair enough. But it seems a lot of people see eating a football ground as a necessitity in the matchday expierence. Each to their own but its not for me.

I got back to my seat in time for the second half kick-off, predicting that Leeds would overcome Palace to win the game. I was also sceptical that the sending off would halt Palace's attacking play and I'd be forced into watching a dull ultra defensive performance.

But fair play to Palace, they still gave it a go. They again dominated the early exchanges and defended valiantly, in a defense marshalled well by skipper Paddy Mccarthy. Unfortunately though, they never really created any clear chances and around the 60th minute a rare defensive error saw Leeds level. An unfortunate deflection saw Ross Mccormack in acres of space, and he squared the ball to substitute Robert Snodgrass for an easy tap-in.
Seeing the four thousand Leeds fans roar was discusting but special at the same time. I know how much I love celebrating a leveller, so I did feel a tinkling of envy for them.

But the scoreline remained 1-1. Despite the man advantage and most of the possession, Leeds had a limited amount of chances. Becchio and Mccormack both headed wide, and Palace had the excellent Speroni to thank again when he made a point blank save from Mikhael Forrsell. But other than that, Leeds failed to impress me and Palace coped very well with what they threw at them. Jonathan Parr at left back really impressed me and I was very dissapointed to find out he was Norwegian and not a young English prospect as I had presumed. Credit to Palace who have brought through many young exciting prospects through their youth system; the likes of Sean Scannell, Wilfried Zaha and Nathaniel Clyne are likely to enjoy succesful careers in the top flight. Particularly the latter, who wasn't playing amidst rumours he is about to depart the club.
A draw was a fair result, although it would have been a completely different game had Scannell not been harshly dismissed. Otherwise I suspect Palace would have comfortably saw the game out and perhaps have added to the scoreline. Leeds were unfortunate to be lumbered with ineffective players like Michael Brown, Becchio and Danny Pugh. They seriously need to invest.

What about the atmosphere, Callum? Well firstly, I should never speak to myself in third person because only cunts do that. Secondly, I was very impressed although a little bit dissapointed with Palace. I had heard they had a whole ultras thing going on in the Holmesdale End but that only seeemed to extend to a small group in the lower left. To be fair, they had 75 odd fans singing throughout the entire game but only on the rare occasions did it break out further.
Leeds fans travelled in superb numbers and you have to take your hat off to them. They sold out their entire 4004 allocation. Hate them or hate them, Leeds is a very tribal club and their fans are very passioniate. I respected the fact that all of their fans stood up the entire game and when they sang EVERYONE joined in. I wish we had that sort of unity on the Crabble terraces. And Marching on together is a fucking decent anthem, I must admit.
But they only had about 5 songs in their repitoire. One of them a very tedious "we are Leeds" which they somehow feel a reason to be proud of. I also had to laugh at many of their fans goading and waving their arms at home supporters at every opportunity. They have a lot of wankers in their ranks as you expect; various skin-headed stone island clad northern monkeys.

And it was those type of Leeds fans that I was surrounded by on the journey back to Victoria. When our train stopped off at Thornton Heath, the other popular CPFC train station, it became absolutely overloaded with thick northern monkeys. I never felt particularly uncomfortable though. Anyone looking at my DAFC jacket would have just thought "who the fuck are they" rather than anything else. But it was a train journey I couldn't wait to get off of given how crowded it was, and I had became sick of the whiney Yarrrrrrkshire accents around me. In credit to them, none of them acted like complete knobs. But they did break out into  voice when they got off of the train.

Having missed my connection back to Herne Bay I decided to meet Alex and co back in the weatherspoons for a very swift pint, and a quick chance to reflect on the game. His views pretty much seemed to mirror mine. As a neutral I possibly enjoyed the game more than him as Leeds slip further away from the play -offs. He remarked that I looked incredibly bored in my seat, which totally was not the case at all. I was actually able to concentrate on a game for once without any distractions.
We also saw Camilla and Josh whom had returned from their shenanaghians, while Alex bumlicked a Birmingham fan in there, whom was overwhelmed at their 6-0 dicking of Millwall at the New Den.

As for me, I swiftly necked my jar of lager and said my goodbyes, before heading back to the beautiful seaside town of Herne Bay. This seemed to be quite a long dire journey but I spent most of it reading the matchday programme throroughly. Unsuprisingly, there was engineering works between Faversham and Herne Bay which was a nuisance. But suprisingly, the coach driver actually knew what he was doing and we managed to end up in HB 5 minutes earlier than expected. RESULT! With this I brought myself a chinese takeaway as I so often do these days. Its getting to that stage where I can probably say "the usual please, love".

Was it worth the £26 entrance fee? Absolutely not, but hardly any games of football should be worth that amount. But thats another argument for another day.
But it was better than sitting in my armchair doing fuck all and wanking off to pop idols. Its a new ground ticked off and overall I enjoyed the day.

Its certainly not as fun or exciting as watching Dover though and I CANNOT wait until Dorchester away on Saturday. I'm praying that the weather holds off and we can enjoy the messiest day of the season in style, with a 4-0 Dover win to kick-start our play off push. Keep tuned please chaps.