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       (This article was first published in the Worthing FC 
        Programme in the 2002-2003 season) 
       Let’s drink, let’s drink, 
        let’s drink to Lilly the Pink, the Pink, the Pink… 
      
      The continual struggle for West Sussex coastal supremacy 
        yet again looms ever closer. We all know we have the bigger pier, the 
        real hotels and pubs that are pubs, not off licenses with seats, but can 
        we get the result needed for a clean sweep? 
      Remember: Papa may have a brand new bag, but you don’t 
        want to use it. With a matchday programme reminiscent of an Argos catalogue, 
        you may wish to take a briefcase or similar receptacle with you to keep 
        it nice, as it’s not going to fit in your pockets. Unless, of course, 
        you’re a poacher. In which case you’d best move on, sir, because 
        I seen the gamekeeper and ee’s got the dog’s out looking for 
        you.  
      Le Bog Noir: Like an obscure art house 
        film genre: dark, dank and unappealing. Someone’s had the lightbulb! 
        You try and feel your way along the wall, but urrggh, what was that? You 
        shudder as you realise the horrible truth… 
      
      They’re ganging up on us now, not one but TWO small 
        Surrey suburbs lining up to take a pop. Go on then, put your dukes up. 
        It’s okay really, they’re not that big, not even added together. 
        We’re big, but then we’ve got lots of old people too. Many 
        of them having moved from places like Epsom to retire and tend to their 
        gardens and sup real ale (YOU know who you are!). 
      Epsom (and Ewell too) play at Merland Rise in Banstead. 
        It’s small, low-level and has a clubhouse several miles from the 
        actual “arena”. The toilets were a bit suspect on our last 
        visit (FA Cup Preliminary in 1999) and needed guards posting outside to 
        stop the door flying open mid-squat – watch yourselves! They play 
        in blue and white hoops, just like some other outfit from the Smoke who 
        everyone down here seems to support, and prefer a two-goal lead within 
        the opening minutes. Forewarned is forearmed… 
      Through the wind and the rain and the snow and 
        the ice: Lets face facts. This game is due to be played on Saturday 
        January 4th. On a ground where at least two teams play league football 
        (probably reserves as well). It’s going to be wet and cold. Do YOU 
        think it will be on? DO you? Avoid unnecessary travel by phoning the club 
        before you set off. Or that could be you alone in that dark, wet car park 
        trying to find another game to watch, when you could have been tucked 
        up in a nice tartan blanket in front of a roaring fire with a cup of cocoa 
        and some toasted marshmallows. 
      
      Hamlet? If it’s not a cigar, then it must be a small 
        settlement of primitive dwellings in an isolated rural area. Not a great 
        huge slice of the sprawling, polluted, desolate urban heartland that is 
        Sarf Of The River (“at this time of night, Guv? It’ll cost 
        ya”). A heady mix of innovative design and supermarket architecture 
        (sounds just like Bolton’s old Burnden Park!) await the visitor 
        at this posh little ground. 
      Many have tried to drive to Champion Hill in time for 
        kick-off, and many are still sitting on the A23 in Streatham High Street, 
        right outside that big niteclub place. And that’s from last season’s 
        fixture. As the team will be setting off on Thursday lunchtime, the hardy 
        band of loyal Rebels on the road may want to consider switching to rails 
        for this soiree. You know it makes sense. 
      Pink and blue: Goes a little too well 
        if you ask me. Particularly in stripes. Give me Pink and Brown quarters 
        any day. See, even Corinthian Casuals know how well light blue goes with 
        pink, as they have the shorts to prove it. 
      At the car wash 
        The Flying Horseman 
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