Frustration had rung true through the 1st two games. BE could easily have been heading to Eastbourne on 4 points with a chance to push the top half of the table, but a mixture of frustration and luck had gotten the better of them in weeks 1 & 2.

The drive down is always a frustrating one, with First Great Southern not putting on such a great show, the rail workers had left us cutting a hole in the ozone layer. It’s wasn’t too bad, the sun was shining and the seagulls were in town looking to sweep up the last bits of Leverton’s packed lunch.

It’s a good day out down there, nice ground surrounded by the local bowling club and Eastbourne Town FC in the back ground. Large changing rooms with the mega beats on the iPod machine. Warm up was slick, Marcus felt sick and Dr Slack had a busy day of diagnosis and treatment ahead.

Despite his ailments, Marcus ‘The Rocket’ Wilson had at least brought his drag flicking skills to the beach party, 90 seconds gone, 1-0, bottom bins off the top, mega Marky was on point (again).

The aerial bombardment from the home side mirrored the assault of the seagulls, but Tom ‘the Don’ Archer and Gabe ‘no Denmark for me bro’ Downer were plucking the sky rockets out of the air like there was no tomorrow and allowing General Burnham to jump back into the midfield like he hadn't been on a 2 week sunshiner with the whole fam, British Airways 1, Easy Jet 0. Fresh from the crisp sand of Cafe del Mar, the central midfielder slotted in next to Speller like a Thursday morning down at Exeter Uni. Lampard & Gerrard? Read Kev De B & Rodri, delightful.

Dave ‘the hands’ Lawrence was on point again and regularly caused trouble, linking up with the Skipper as he returned to the front line, connecting with the on rushing Steve ‘Rolls Royce’ Roche and creating chances that might have been easier to score, but we’re not making it that easy for ourselves. As half time arrived, the temperature rose up, and at the sound of the half time whistle the Gaffa had some choice words to offer in response to some sloppy play. Don’t be cheap lads, that’s not the way, look after the ball, get it in the mixer and let’s get crazy. 1-0 half time.

The second half was much improved with possession looked after and the game shut down like a Friday afternoon office sign off. Firstly, James ‘chicken dipper’ Morrison reverse poked the 2nd as The Don ran shot gun off a set play. Then shortly after Rochey played ‘tickle my under carriage’ with the keeper as he looked for the far post mega slot and mugged off the net tender with a lovely eye faint. 3-0, open the bar.

The 4th was a thing of beauty. Will ‘the lunch box’ Leverton crossed the ball at gooch height only for the Dr to side slap bat home much to the joy of the BE Ultra’s (Wayne). As Slacky wheeled away, the sniper readied his armour, positioned himself at right back, took aim and dispatched the Rolls Royce into the nearby grave yard. The only downer of a class day, was seeing Rochey carried off to the crèche a couple of months early. A game of 5’s ensued to see who would drive the Earlsfield death trap back to London and the Royce was left punching Bruno’s deets into the insurance data base. British Airways 1, Easy Jet 1.

There was still time for the ‘whale salmon’ to upper cut an air drop through extra cover for a 1 bounce 4 and the ultras were left digging in the shrubbery before making our way home with a 4 wicket victory. See you in the Railway!

Great day out, much better on deck. Back on the road next week.

Up the club.