March 16th: Crystal Palace v Leicester City (Championship)
As usual, Helen is at the station well before the train is due to leave. We're on the 14.57 train. During the trip, with nothing to read and nobody willing to talk to me, I decide to text Robbie (you remember: clueless fucker from the Doncaster trip). He claims he's nearly at the ground when I text him, which is about 4 o'clock. That's a bit early, considering the game kicks off at 8.
As we get off the train, I suddenly need the toilet quite urgently. I don't remember drinking a lot on the train, but all the same my bladder is about to explode. We make our way down the escalator towards the toilets (Helen also needs to go)... and the gents' is shut. Fuck and bollocks.
I try to forget about it (and almost succeed) as we take the tube to Victoria. Victoria is one of those stations that charges for toilet admission.
[No fucking chance. No matter how desperate I am to go, I refuse to pay any amount of money, however small, to piss in a dirty pot in a stinking room. I'll hold it in.]
We find the train to take us to Selhurst. It's a bit old and crap, and a little bit dirty. Fitting, really, considering we're going to an SE postcode. Another text and a phone call from Robbie confirms that he's in fact in a pub nowhere near the ground. How odd.
[It's not really odd. He's an utterly clueless cunt, and this is therefore no surprise.]
First things first upon arriving at Selhurst: we walk up to the ground. We're not going to stand and stare, though, because I'm still dying for a piss. Sainsbury's it is then.
We leave Sainsbury's and I go into the club shop to look for a mug. The only one I can find, though, is nine fucking quid. No chance.
Helen likes to get into the ground early, so of course we're inside well before kick off. By this time, we've realised that even though kick off is at 8pm, our tickets in fact say 7.45. We know this to be wrong. Why have they printed the tickets wrong? Idiots.
Claude Davis needs a smack in the gob. The only reason I say this is because of his unnecessarily brutal challenge on Andy King, for which he is rightly booked.
City dominate the first half but there's no breakthrough. A couple of minutes before the break, the referee goes to consult with one of his assistants, who has apparently seen something off the ball. Moments later he waves a red card in the direction of Davis. Straight red. Didn't even see what happened.
Over the next few minutes, we start to hear that Davis was dismissed for throwing an elbow at Michael Morrison.
[For the entire first half, the set of lads behind us have been asking fucking ludicrous questions and answering them wrongly amongst themselves. Helen has been correcting them every step of the way. Just so we're clear: that's a 20 year old woman who knows more about the game than a group of five lads. Think about that for a second.]
On 53, Lloyd Dyer crosses for Martyn Waghorn, whose shot is batted away by Palace keeper Julian Speroni, only for Bruno Berner to smack the ball into the back of the net. Get in.
City continue to dominate but there's no addition to the scoreline. No matter, a win is a win.
[Palace are in the process of finding out what happens when Paul Hart is manager. What is the thinking behind any chairman who even extends the courtesy of replying to his applications, let alone those who actually hire him?]
A surprisingly quiet train trip back to Victoria follows. I manage to stay awake for most of the coach trip home. Another three points well earned. Meanwhile, Palace are on their way to League One. Good job, boys.
Final score: Crystal Palace 0 Leicester 1
Time: 12 hours 30 minutes
Ticket: £25
Train: £9
Travelcard: £5.60
Coach: £5
Total: £44.60
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