Charles Dickens once wrote “If anyone were to ask me what in my opinion was the dullest and most stupid spot on the face of the Earth, I should decidedly say Chelmsford.“ From that, we can logically deduce that ‘Dicko’ (as he was known to his mates) was in fact a Magpie. Sick as he was of always going there on a bloody Monday night, in the middle of fucking winter to watch us lose yet again.  And this year was to be no different, as we put up the meekest defence against a pasting since Nigella Lawson. Despite the…

Well, it was quite a day. Recent results and performances had seen a strange feeling known as optimism creep into our thinking. Combine that with cheap train tickets from Dorchester South and the importance of the game, the numbers of travelling fans had swelled to a recent high of ten! Two new faces joined us in the form of Ed W (a Dorch fan but away day virgin) and “Manc Tom” (a Citeh fan and mate of Tom) whilst Pagey represented the older faces and showed us ‘younger’ lads up, by getting the 6 o’something train from Yeovil and arriving…

It had felt like a lifetime ago (1 month) since I’d last witnessed a Magpies game, or any football match for that matter. So naturally, when I saw the tweet from Eastbourne Borough, saying the game had passed a pitch inspection, coupled with our *ahem* excellent fortunes on the pitch we were buzzing for a day out on “The Sunshine Coast”. As it does, the day got off to a dramatic start. Meeting Tom and Cam at 11am in the Spoons pub outside Victoria station and Vossy, the one who more-or-less came up with the initial plans for the day…

The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry, but seldom do they include waking up in a Premier Inn in fucking Fleet of all places. Fortunately for this weekend, no plans had been laid. Given the weather at present, none of us had even considered the possibility of the match being on, let alone giving plans a moment’s thought. Cue a 9am frantic ring round of the boys. “Bollocks, it’s actually fucking on!” With Fred and Tom already on a ludicrously early train up to Walsall, it was left to me and Vossy to carry the can…

Like Eastleigh fans signing about Yaya and Kolo Toure on Boxing Day, or the strangely resilient appeal of Dave Allen, Weston-Super-Mare AFC is one of the enduring perplexities of modern non-league football. On the face of things they are a club whose ground only Poole could ever be envious of, and whose wage bill only we ever could.  And yet, with a team made up largely of academy graduates and players signed from local regional football, they have excelled, over-achieving as they have with a good brand of football. What cannot be questioned however, is the fact that it’s always…

They say that moving house is one of the most stressful things you can do. So in a week in which I have moved both house and job, I was left a little stressed at times, and asking all the usual questions. What if I don’t like the area? What if I don’t like the people? Will I be able to find my way around quickly? Will I get bundled into a cell and taken hostage by 4 women (that is more niche to my employment, but nonetheless, a possibility)? Well the one thing I find this week is that…

Celebrating a rare victory. (and Tom doing his ‘special’ face.) The day started off with the usual routine: Tom and Fred getting to the pub ridiculously early, Eames texting us asking where we were as we had forgotten to let him know the plans and me, stuck on a train 20 minutes late. Again. Usual protocol was being observed by the players too, with the now-customary Saturday morning pull-outs this week being fulfilled by Vickers, Smeets and Jake Rowley. It meant a debut for new signing Sam Lanaham who joined from some park outfit over Bournemouth way (No, not Poole…