To Transpontine del Curva!

…on Saturday afternoon to see the pink ‘n’ blue boys take on Needham Market.

The crappest of Crap Match Reports now follows. To be honest, Saturday was all about cider and not SEXY football.

Which is a good job, seeing as though the BOOZE more than made up for the absence of the football.

So yeah - an incredibly fashionably late Champion Hill arrival for me at just after 3:30pm.

Time keeping is for those that live their life by State restrictions.

Blame @richardgallon for this.

Actually, blame the bloody brilliant SW9 Cider Bar that had [shhh] popped up at Loughborough Junction once again for the weekend.

“Just one crafty half of apple juice”

…etc.

Whoops.

Chin chin, and never mind, we’ll at least make the second half.

And so Gallon and I set off on a drunken ramble through Ruskin Park, en route to Tuscany in the Dulwich distance.

We approached Top Boy Griff on the turnstiles, unsure what the etiquette was.

To be honest we could have managed another half of apple juice back down at Loughborough Junction, and then do the @oneeyegrey Champion Hill freebie half time trick.

But that would just be taking the piss. Our afternoon had already been defined by far too much piss taking already.

“All right Griff, what can you do for a couple of pissed up latecomers?”

Top Boy lived up to his reputation.

£4 each a pop, and soon we were in pink ‘n’ blue hangover land.

Oh dear.

Whose turn is it to go to the bar?

The football was far more important. The traditional once round the ground photo shoot was abandoned due to bad light and booze.

I pointed my big seven inch thing of wonder at a few random strangers, and then gave a huge big cheesy grin.

And then it was HT, with top of the table Dulwich drawing 0-0 against the basement boys from deepest Suffolk.

We made the crossing of the Toilets Opposite, and then took up an unfamiliar position in the Car Wash End, embedded right in the middle of the Rabble.

A decade ago and our cider head silliness would have been identifiable right from the other side of the Tuscany end.

But I looked over my shoulder, and everyone around me appeared to have the ‘glow’ that only the Loughborough Junction Cider Bar is able to deliver.

Fancy that.

I felt a bit of a lightweight when the fellas in front started to share out the tinnies of G&T.

Never let it be said that Dulwich doesn’t attract a superior level of alcoholic.

On the pitch and the pink ‘n’ blue boys pressed on. This was a frustrating afternoon of football. Needham Market came with a game plan to defend deep, and then hit the Hamlet on the break.

Dulwich played some pretty football around the edge of the area, but the overhead shots seemed to be sending out a subtle message to head back to the SW9 Cider Bar, as ball after ball was Loughborough Junction bound.

There was even something of a Rabble crowd surge after one near miss.

Or maybe that was just the G&T tinnies talking?

The SEXY Needham Market ‘keeper was the STAR of the afternoon.

Marks out of two through my cider head goggles?

I’d give him one…

I thought also that this was the consensus of the Rabble, with the rattling of the keys.

I confess to being a little behind the curve when it comes to current Dulwich etiquette. I mistook the Key Moment signal as something involving South London wife swapping.

A hazy Transpontine cloud of skunk filled the South London air, and cleansed out the cider head that was now starting to cause me a few problems.

You bloody fool! You should never mix your drinks, etc.

It did mean that I missed the Needham Market goal, completely oblivious as to what was taking place on the pitch.

I actually cheered at FT, thinking that Dulwich had got away with a scrappy home point.

My punishment for not paying attention was trip back down to Loughborough Junction to take on some more fruit juice.

Edgar Kail in my heart, etc.