Crap Match Report

Dulwich Hamlet 2, Enfield Town 0


To Transpontine del Curva!
…on Saturday afternoon.

On foot, as well.

My topological understanding of South London has pretty much been built up over the years answering the semi-psychogeographical question:

“How do I get to Dulwich?”

Sometimes it has been answered in a more abstract form:

“By seeking the jouissance pink ‘n’ blue, combined with a physical performance that is part beautiful game, part ballet.”

How do I get to Dulwich is answered on other occasions:

“Just get the No. 37 bus, you daft twat.”

I have experimented for over 20 years now of finding MY South London en route to the Dulwich.

The walk down Brixton Hill, and then picking up the 37 along Brixton Water Lane; the first cycling route involving an unnecessary detour around Half Moon Lane. And then there was the more direct approach of taking in the back streets of Camberwell.

But why don’t you just bloody walk it?

And so I did on Saturday afternoon – through Brixton, and then the mighty urban75 endorsed Ruskin Park route.

Ever wondered why *shhh* on a slow news days at Brixton Buzz HQ following the football we get an exclusive photo shoot of Ruskin Park?

Waste not, want not etc.

I actually arrived at Champion Hill in good time. Back in the day and a 2:55pm arrival was most definitely not fashionable, and far from late.

But WOH.

Saturday saw the pink ‘n’ blue queue snake round not only as far as the Sainsbury’s car park, but halfway down towards the store entrance itself.

Who are these people?

I’m certainly not complaining.

But if you think back to 20, 15, 10 or even five years ago – the demographics of South London hasn’t changed that much.

The 100 if we’re lucky of the Craig Edwards slumber period, has been ‘celebrated‘ of late with my archive photos re-emerging online.

I truly hope that in 20 years time if I am still lucky enough to be around to share the snaps of 2016, then folk will have a suitable cutting edge social comment to make about the Dulwich crowd.

Something which I most definitely haven’t just done, btw.


What of Saturday afternoon?

Those (un) fortunate to be queuing right back down to the supermarket doors made good by pre-loading with boxes of cheapo booze.

These MOSET CERTAINLY weren’t taken inside the ground.


Not here, Mr FA.

Top Boy Griff and the turnstile lads did an ACE job. The big blue gate was opened, grubby tenners were handed over.

I was behind the goal in less time than it use to take for me to bang on that big blue gate to let someone allow me to take my bicycle into the ground.

Good luck rolling in a bike with a crowd of 2,248.



That’s not including @oneeyegrey who most definitely was fashionable, and was incredibly late. He was also in profit for the day…

“If you are thinking of going to the bar, then please be aware that it is extremely busy”

…said the Voice of Champion Hill.

Who needs booze anyway when the pink ‘n’ blue boys are back playing the SEXY passing game against a very strong Enfield Town team from the other side of the river?

Yer man Mr Ferdinand was in the building once again.

His name is Rio, etc.

@Darryl1974 has a theory that Rio may pitch in with a Transpontine Class of ’92 trashy TV show.

Oh Lordy.

The last thing that the club needs right now is MORE publicity.

Any broadsheet hack hanging around Champion Hill should now be made to become a toilet attendant to find out what the real ‘authentic’ Dulwich experience is like in 2016.

Much of the first half was taken up with a pitch side Brixton Buzz editorial meet, and then the usual photo walk around the ground.

I’m going to have to re-think these excursions. It’s simply becoming impossible to navigate all four sides, snapping away, and keeping an eye on the game.

I did manage to catch the Dulwich opener in the first half. I was standing amongst the Enfield fans in the Tuscany end, and so didn’t do my usual little dance.

As ever, if you want to know who scored then you have come to the wrong place.


We did the end swap with the Enfield boys and girls at half time, and then were simply dazzled by a brilliant Dulwich display.

2-0 doesn’t do the game justice; but don’t be fooled by the victory – Enfield were bloody good as well.

The Tuscany rain allowed the jouissance Transpontine celebrations to take on the form of a pink ‘n’ blue wet dream towards the end of the match.

Or maybe that was just me?

There really is no place in the entire world where I would rather be right now.

Except Streatham.

And so I sneaked out just before full time to catch the hockey face off over in SW16.

Edgar Kail in my heart, etc.

[I couldn’t be arsed to walk up to Streatham btw…]









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