Bee Flat

Brentford 2 - Charlton Athletic 1.
I could tell it was going to be 'one of those days'.

Firstly, a stroppy blonde tried to push onto the train at Greenwich, secure in the knowledge that :
1) her posh accent
2) she looked good in a pair of tight jeans,
usually meant she got what she wanted.

She was most put out because the traveling public didn't part like the Red Sea, so she could get into a more comfortable position in a completely packed out carriage.

Not five minutes later, a rather wizened old Asian lady turned on a young man who was mildly reading a book while listening to his iPod.
He removed an earphone to enquire why she was prodding him and wildly waving.
Apparently, he had "No manners" and he had been pushing her.

He was balanced next to me so I knew she was mistaken.
I told him not to worry as she had completely made it up.
There followed a torrent of abuse where I was called a c*** and a  b****** by the coffin dodger.

Ah, the joys of Network South East.

The rest of the journey was pain free.
Plenty of familiar faces on the train out from Waterloo, who all managed to exit at Brentford just as the rain began to fall.

The sounds of Status Quo met us as we entered the ground.
Obviously it wasn't "Down Down" they were playing as it might have seemed rather harsh at the basement club.

The girl at the fizzy pop and pie stand couldn't count and tried to charge me 20p too much. In fairness she was very smiley and repeated 3 times how sorry she was when I pointed this out.

The Charlton end was packed out. There was an expectant atmosphere and our crowd were on good form.
Some youngsters were rather sneakily smoking some 'jazz woodbines' near me which mixed rather nicely with the smell of flatulence from the bloke in front.

The game kicked off and within seconds we were under the cosh.

Ex Addick Weston tormented Francis all afternoon.
Francis was all at sea against the pace and changes of direction he was subjected to. He may as well have stayed at home for all the use he was at defending.

We were 1-0 down after our players seemed more concerned about, (ex Millwall), Alexander blocking and pushing than making any efforts to stop him. A powerful drive into the roof of the net was no more than Brentford deserved.

The rest of the first half went by in a wave of Brentford attacks.
By half time it was 2-0 but it really could have been at least 3 or 4.

I'm struggling to recall a single meaningful Charlton attack until the last minute of the half.

The team received a rather 'mixed' response from our crowd as they trudged past us on their way to the changing rooms.

Martin had been awful and he was withdrawn at half time for Reid. Fry went off too and Abbott came on up front instead.

We looked more attractive and also more dangerous too after the changes.

Reid was the focus of everything good about Charlton and eventually his good work on the left lead to Wagstaff firing the ball home.
(I saw him shoot, I saw the keeper dive, unfortunately I didn't see the ball hit the goal as the surge of bodies on the terrace blocked my sight line.)

There was just too much to do.

Brentford thought they'd scored a third but the referee disallowed it. Still not sure why as it was up the other end.

Akpo Sodje came on to try and bulldoze an equaliser but it just wasn't to be.
He ran about a bit, then collapsed and was carried off by a couple of people, one of whom was possibly unused substitute Llera.

What a load of cock.

A Casual Rating.

Charlton really didn't deserve anything from a game they lost in the first half.
Our crowd turned up.
The team didn't.

Kyel Reid can have the Lacoste polo for his second half display. An honorable mention must also go to ex Addick Myles Weston who was almost unplayable in the first half, (admittedly against a very poor Francis).

The dreaded Primark novelty slogan t shirt is going to the previously mentioned Francis.
Out. Of. His. Depth.
......and this is tier 3.