What a difference a few weeks make. In mid January, we seemed to be staring down the proverbial barrel of another relegation, and now we’re pushing for Europe.Well, not so much Europe, but we are pretty much safe now.  One thing thatremains the same though is that we go to away games and we drink (results still vary…) With cheaper train tickets and some reasonable weather, the short-ish trip to the market town of Hitchin had all the signs of a good day out. Meeting at the O’Neill’s pub at Kings Cross at 11:30, myself arriving with a rather delightful…

From the moment I woke up on Saturday morning, the omens were good going into another eagerly anticipated away day. From the leftover pizza on the side of my bed, that I drunkenly ordered the night before, to the superstition when as soon as I set foot outside of my building, I had the misfortune of having a bird shit on my left arm, I just knew 3 points at Dunstable were on its way come 5pm. Besides my personal pre-matchday build up though, Dorchester Town FC are going through a spell where many supporters are looking into each game…

So in the same way that apparently Fleet is more than just a service station, it turns out that Frome is actually a town, and not just a river that runs through Dorchester. Who knew, eh? Frome is not a place I’d usually look to spend my Wednesday evening, but having come back to Dorchester for a week of well deserved (kind of) leave, watching the recently galvanised Magpies seemed a good idea. Ina pleasant change from the usual running for trains due to eitherFred/Cam/myself being unable to tell the time or be arsed to get up due to hangovers,…

So Dorch are back, lads. That spirit, that fight, that arrogance.  Same old Magpies, taking the piss. Andy Harris, Danny O‘Hagan, Matt Lonnon, Mark Jermyn. Oh Mark Jermyn. It‘s far too early to be saying this of course, but for a moment on Saturday it genuinely felt like finally we have our club back. Of course, it could have just been the copious amounts of ‘complimentary’ pints but it was a bloody good feeling whatever it was. For those of us who couldn’t make Truro, this was the start of a new era. A new dawn, but the same old…

Last year was one of the worst seasons in recent history for our club. But going into Saturday’s game away at Chesham, we were undefeated in 2015 and were yet to concede a goal. Well, we played one game and drew it 0-0. But with the recent removal of Hereford’s results, it became official that we are in the shit. Big time. But if there is one thing we as fans got used to last season, it’s watching away games in the London area with the team stuck in a relegation battle. So the trip to Chesham was no different.…

Happy New Year everyone! For Magpies fans all over the world it’s fair to say that 2014 had been on paper THE worst year in the clubs history. Ok… maybe not history, but in my lifetime anyway. So what better way to kick off 2015 than a local “derby,” to the side sitting on the top of the league, entertaining us – a side that has lost their last million games on the bounce. On paper, this game looks like a daunting task. But let’s put things in to perspective shall we. Let’s think about the opposition here: Poole Town.…

Just as every single non-league programme article must apparently begin with the immortal lines “Welcome to the players and officials of….” so too must every Sunday morning scribe on here begin with a similar, pointless yet essential traditional preamble. So let us begin. Beaconsfield. A fucking village. Tinpot. Hadn’t even heard of it until this season. Proper tinpot. What the fuck are we doing here? Actually, Beaconsfield was quite nice. Quaint, even. It had all the hallmarks of a quintessential Berkshire village: Range Rovers, regional Conservative party office, UKIP posters and of course three village pubs – all gastrosized to…

Imagine being addicted to heroin but this type of heroin has a high that only occurs once in a blue moon, with a massive come down mostly every time. That’s what following Dorchester Town is like. Probably worse than heroin actually. Yeah, being a Dorch fan is definitely worse than being a heroin addict. It’s a love/hate relationship and it’s addictive. “I had a really good weekend but I need something to be bitter about” was Luke justifying the fact he was about to spend 3 and a half hours in a crammed car on a Monday night to watch…