Skip to content

Fairground attraction


Fuck me sideways, how shit was Fairground 0 Theme Park 0? Every so often, a game comes along just to remind us all how shit (on the field) this game occasionally termed soccer can really suck the big one. How can I describe this absolute stinking pile of horse shit without totally falling asleep? It really was that bad. I cannot remember any attempts on goal, no discernable incidents, nothing. All I remember is that we played the whole game doing the neat-passing routine that has sooooo held us in good stead for not winning any matches whatsoever. Why are the team still doing it? It’s not as though Stewart Robson is to blame any more, I just guess that old habits really do die hard. The rest of it? Nah….

…. oh, all right then. It’s more entertaining than the game was. But then, so is Pop Idol.

Plus points: Well at least it didn’t rain. And we didn’t lose.

Minus points: It really did suck the big one. Ardley’s crossing is truely appauling.

The referee’s a…….. : bloody hell, I can’t even have a go at him. Jesuz, it really WAS that dull.

But did we look likely to score? Let’s just say that there’s a bigger chance of Princess Margaret needing a 2003 calendar than us breaking the deadlock. And yes, that was a tasteless gag.

Quotes: (1) “I heard you swearing from down there” – Drunken One to me at half time. Not such a big deal, except that he was half way down the terrace and a little way along to the left. Either he’s got canine-quality hearing or I really ought to control myself a bit more often. (2) “Scally Out” – fun and games in their main stand, which did cause the occasional bit of merriment. Somebody had to.


Alcohol is bad. Very bad: Probably against my better judgement to do this, but still… the Womble above, known to many as “Woking” passed out at about 1.40pm or so due to consuming one two many Babychams. I mean, totally passed out. To cut a long story short, he was taken outside and started to stir. And spew. All over himself (grossed out yet?). Suffice to say, an ambulance was called and he found himself in the nearest A&E “sleeping it off”. Why am I mentioning it? Not because I have a conscience all of a sudden, nor am I warning you about the evils of alcohol but simply because I wanted a major excuse to publish this pic. He’s fine(ish) now BTW….

Chants would be a fine thing: Some classy ones aimed at the more romany slanted Gillingham support. From the “You’re all from an extended family” (Yellow Submarine), “We’ve never shagged an alsation”, to “The wheels on your house go round and round”, the carefully crafted banter and acerbic wit was flowing from our end like the vomi… better stop there. Anyway, what did they greet us with? The somewhat disappointing “Wimbledon, wank wank wank”. Bloody hell, we go to all that mental effort to raise the level of abuse to a new and more intellectual level and the opposition can’t even manage a grunt. Fuck me, did they ever go to school? (er…)

Truth is stranger than fiction: (1) The lingerie shop by Gills station, with some rather, ahem, interesting undergarments (in the shop window I hasten to add, no I didn’t go in there). And there was me thinking that PVC was used for ashfelting. (2) Somebody getting lifted for answering their phone during the minute silence for the Queen’s sister. I think I’ve seen it all now. (3) Smell of burning rubber in the second half. And you think the “pikey” chants are distasteful and incorrect? (4) Subject of much discussion on the train back – the performance? The current off-field cock ups? Nope. Supermarket curries, that’s what. And for the record, SavaCentre curries (especially their deli ones) are the best of all. Not fucking Waitrose.

Hey, we haven’t had a slag-off of thick Yarpie lawyers who is now contradicting himself to the point people could well think he’s a schizo: Oh, all right then. Didn’t see him today TBH, but I did have a thought. Think about this – Koppout has no respect for anyone and anything. The guy is as untrustworthy as they come. He looks like the product of some rather iffy interbreeding and would steal your horse if you had one. I’m wondering if Koppout himself is a pikey? Strip off the debonair exterior and I think we may have him sussed out. Yeah, that’s it – Koppout is now hiding in a caravan somewhere in the Thames Esturary. His wife is available to everyone else in the travellers settlement and his kids wear Spiderman underpants. He probably felt very at home today then.

Terracing: The lifeblood of the game. The expanse of concrete that has spawned many friendships, battle partners and camaraderie not experienced anywhere else. The breeding ground for passion upon passion. A temple to romantic ideals and common strands of unity. Just one thing – you can’t actually see that well out of them can you?

Anything else? Oh christ, you don’t want me to mention about the game itself do you? Help.

So, was it worth it? What do you think?

In a nutshell: Crap.