Southend United 2-4 BFC, Saturday 1st December 2018

‘Flowers?  Get her a f***ing cauliflower and tell ‘er to get t’dinner on’

Welcome to...wherever this is.

Have you ever seen a 6 goal non-thriller?  Well, I have now.  We tipped up to the seaside (without actually seeing any of it) to see the Super Reds forge to the 3^rd round of the FA Cup and the dream draw of someone like Birmingham City away.  It was comfortable stuff too, too comfortable, as we start showboating at 3-1, concede an unnecessary 2^nd, before quite the oddest 45 seconds I’ve seen in a while: Southend ‘equalise’ (but I’ve seen the linesman stick his flag up straight away, so no goal).  Southend fans are jumping around, before the Reds’ end does the same.  Then the ref goes over to the linesman for a chat.  Never a good sign.  He appears to point to the halfway line so Southend go potty again.  Only the game restarts with a Davies free kick.  Our turn again.  Anyone would think it was panto season; ‘it’s a goal.’  ‘Oh no it isn’t.’  ‘Oh yes it is.’  Anyway, it made for a talking point, before Bahre put the game to bed, latching onto a Moncur-induced rebound, 4-2.

The players celebrate Bahre's clincher.

As I said, not much happened, before it did.  We had a shot at the far end with 5 mins of the 1^st half left, and the keeper saved it.  Moore then put us ahead from the resultant corner.  My overwhelming feeling was one of relief – but then again, I WAS having a p*** at the time.  I hadn’t realised we’d got a corner and so nipped off.  B*gger.  Mind, I was there for the equaliser, in the 4^th or 5^th minute of injury time, when Moore appeared to get his legs tangled and put the ball in his own net.  I’m normally used to watching Thiam try to send signals to his feet, but I don’t know what Moore was doing.  Everyone around us thought it was an own goal, so I’m baffled as to how it was given to their player.

Dave's new hat.  A corker.

Still, we were confident.  There’d only been one team in it and 10 mins or so into to the 2^nd half, Woodrow bagged another, a simple finish (to the composured).  What would REALLY give us a chance though is if I went to the toilet again.  I did.  We scored.  3-1.  Allegedly Woodrow again.  We were now as good as through, so instead of trying to score anymore, we concentrated on p***ing around until that late commotion.  (As I said, it was at the far end, so who knows whether it was offside or not.  Though I bet Andy Jones can tell me it was offside without even seeing it.)

The teams line up.

Job done, bring on the Big Boys (and Arsenal).  All that was left was for Berserker to row with a station assistant who was trying to tell us our tickets from Southend could only be used from Central and not Victoria.  Let’s just say Andy told her…

Despatches:

No Cavare or Thiam this week (both benched).  Can’t say I missed them, but Brown must be a confused lad. I’ve not known anyone regularly switch between centre forward and right back.  He was right back today.  Davies saved his usual (zero).  They scored 2 from 2 on target.  Or two from one on target if we credit Moore with their equaliser.  I’d be lying if I said I noticed the rest of ‘em, low as we were behind the goal on a pitch floodlit by candlelight.  Mowatt looked tidy, Moncur didn’t do owt till the 90^th minute and McGeehan trod water.  But they were all that little bit better than Sarfend.

Time also to get a programme after the game.  Called in at club shop.  ‘Sorry, we don’t have any, try the ticket office next door.’  ‘No.we don’t have any.  Have you tried the main reception?’  It’s ok, Southend, if you don’t want my money, you don’t have to take it.

Onwards and upwards!

*** Woodrow.  Scored 2 apparently, so why not? 

** Pinnock.  Cool.

* Moore.  Scored 2, so why not?

Into the blue seats...

Drink du jour: Leffe in the Railway.  Joy!  But it tasted just that little bit flat.  Despite the cracking nature of the pub, everyone felt there was just that little something wrong with the beer.  Nevermind the number of beers that were off, or the (vegan) kitchen being closed.  Must do better.  Still, after a Stella for the train back, let’s hit Bierschenke in Liverpool St for German wheat beer.  That was great, less so the downstairs (where we’d planned to eat) as it had been taken over en-masse by pr*cks.  Still, there’s always the latest South London hipster joint, the Mercato Metropolitano, ‘the first sustainable and inclusive community market with an Italian soul.’  Whatevs.  I think I was only the 2^nd oldest person there…. 

Away: c400

The Damage:
£8.85 train (Dave, I still owe you 15p!)
£12 ent
prog?  Good luck.
=£20.85

The Tunes:
Claustrophobia (Scuba)
Ill Communication (Beastie Boys)

Roots Hall panorama

The Railway.

The Londontykes' flag is put up.

Behind the goal as the teams come out.

THIS is a view.  Pitchside at Roots Hall.

The Main Stand.

The away end and its barrel roof.

The corner gantry.