City played Thurrock tonight. An Essex team residing deep in the depths of the Blue Square South.

13 minutes to go, City are 2-0 up and cruising. Then Thurrock score. 2-1.

5 seconds to go (yes, literally). Still 2-1. Thurrock down to 10 men. Then it happened… the moment of madness. The April Fools joke… 2-2. Game over. Rubbish.

When Greenwich Mean Time became British Summer Time at the weekend, everybody lost an hour. Everybody except me, who lost two.

Saturday night I was very tired, so had a relatively early night of 23:00 (GMT). Knowing the clocks were going forward that night, and assuming my iPhone wouldn’t make the change automatically, I moved the time forward an hour to 00:00 (BST).

Everything was fine until this morning.

I normally get up for work at 07:45. My alarm rang on time as normal. I was exceptionally tired, but put this down to losing an hour and the general Monday morning feeling. I got washed, dressed, made sandwiches for work and had breakfast. I then turned on the radio, only for Chris Moyles to announce it was 06:55!

Then it clicked. On Saturday, when I moved my clock forward an hour from 23:00 to 00:00, I forgot to also change the day. Therefore I was moving backwards 23 hours to Saturday at 00:00, not Sunday at 00:00.

I hope you’re still with me…

Besides the phone displaying the wrong day, this would not normally be a problem. However, in the night (Monday morning), my phone thought it was Sunday and moved the time forward an additional hour (like it should for daylight saving).

Does this make sense?

So there I was, out of bed, all ready for work at a time that I would never normally surface from my slumber. Did I go into work an hour early? Did I make use of the time to do some things around the flat? No – I went back to bed for an hour.

The funny thing is, I often hear the person in the flat above mine getting up at 5.30am. This morning I heard him getting up at 6.30am (well… what I thought was 6.30am). While lying there, I thought “What an idiot – he’s forgot to put his clock forward”

This just goes to show, with people like me making stupid mistakes, this whole daylight saving rubbish should be abolished. The system was only developed so farmers can work on the land in the light and kids don’t get run over on the way to school (probably). Nowadays, we're not all farmers and all kids get driven to school in a Chelsea Tractor, so it doesn’t matter how dark it is!

Yesterday I went with Claire to Kent to watch Bath City play Bromley.

Bromley play at Hayes Lane, which is a beautiful, traditional football ground and my favourite in the Blue Square South.

It really was a game of two halves. City battered Bromley for the first 45 minutes. I know it’s an old cliché, but had it been a boxing match, they would have stopped the game.

Unfortunately, City failed to capitalise on the dominance, and despite hitting the cross bar and having a ball cleared off the line, went into the dressing room at half time with the scores tied at 0-0.

I had a bad feeling City would live to regret the missed chances. My fears were confirmed, when early into the second half, Bromley scored. Luckily City equalised minutes afterwards.

The game ended 1-1, despite heavy pressure from Bromley in the closing stages. While both sides were happy they didn’t lose, I think they both felt that they missed a chance to win – Bath especially.

Here’s some photos from the picturesque ground, including a lovely cat that happened to be at there.

There’s only one Jenson Button!

Who the **** is Lewis Hamilton? :)

As a Leeds fan, I thought it was my duty to go and watch the Brian Clough/Leeds United film, The Damned United. So, after work, I went straight to town for a late afternoon screening of the film.

After sitting through half an hour of adverts – most of them horrible, involving bar tenders with split personalities telling you not to drink and drive; people carrying the names of STDs on their underwear; and a man who keeps seeing a run over boy wherever he goes (will someone give that kid a proper burial?), the film began.

The film focuses on Brian Clough’s infamous 44 day stint at Leeds United. Clough had just won the league with Derby and, despite a hatred for the club, joined Leeds, who, at the time, were the biggest club in England – as large as Manchester United are today (how the mighty have fallen).

The film is set in 1974 – before my time, but as a football and Leeds fan, I have been made more than aware of the infamous events of those 44 days. I therefore was very excited to see the film.

To cut a long (or 44 day) story short, Clough didn’t do very well at Leeds – a lot of this down to his own, personal mistakes – strange for a man who would go on to have such a successful career in European football.

Some observations from the film
- Brian Clough was nothing without his assistant, Peter Taylor (who he didn’t bring to Leeds)
- Instead of Lucozade at half time, players would have an orange and a couple of cigarettes
- Clough hated Leeds with a passion. This probably led to his downfall at Elland Road
- Don Revie, who left Leeds to manage England (and failed) should have stayed to build on his success, allowing Clough to get the international job.
- I loved the part in 7-a-side where Johnny Giles went 2-footed, studs up, on Clough – hahaha!
- How many other League One clubs have their own international feature film? Leeds United – just a small club…

I am pleased to say Brian Clough, Don Revie, Leeds United and Derby County, all come out of the film in a very positive light, despite some of Clough’s relatives reacting angrily to the plotline.

I really liked the film. You don’t have to be a Leeds or Derby fan to enjoy it – you don’t really have to follow football, although if you hate the sport, it probably is best to avoid.

It just gets better and better and better – Manchester United lose again!

Following last weeks thrashing at the hands of Liverpool, everyone expected a win for the media darlings, against poor, unfashionable Fulham.

Just minutes before kick off, Sky Sports News pundit, Matt Le Tissier, gave his ‘expert’ opinion on the match. “I feel sorry for Fulham”, he chortled, in between mouthfuls of corporate pie, “They’ll have to take on the full anger of a wounded Manchester United. I predict a 6-0 thrashing”.

Oh dear.

The Spurs/Chelsea game was delayed by 30 minutes due to a suspect package being found in a bin outside the ground. Bomb disposal experts have opened the parcel and are reporting it to contain the Premier League title. Apparently it was thrown away by Alex Ferguson.

And a final one before I go to bed…

The bizarre event of the evening’s trip to Newport involved a ‘run in’ with a very portly football steward, who approached the Bath City fans just minutes before kick off, asking if we would move to a segregated area in the main terrace.

This ‘segregated’ area was a small part of terrace, right next to the majority of the hardened Newport supporters. The way in which it was segregated did not involve tall fences and police with riot gear, like you would see in Italy, but two elderly stewards. As the terraces were the location of potentially ugly scenes last season, we were all very reluctant to move from our safe, seated area.

His request for us to move to the hell-hole got the response it deserved – silence and bemused looks from the City fans. The steward walked off, before returning a few minutes later, this time a little annoyed. He began to ask the group of fans, whose average age must have been 65 – hardly your average Green Street hooligan – “so… you’re not going to move?” (really enforcing his authority), to which he was told “NO!”. He then waddled off, only to return at random intervals during the match, to glare at us from a safe distance.

Keep up the good work, boyos!

I have only recently got home after a lovely evening’s trip to Wales. ‘Lovely’ and ‘Wales’ don’t normally go together, but when it involves your football team destroying one of theirs, it is most appropriate.

Despite the score line, Bath City were not outstanding. Take nothing away from them, they scored 4 goals and won the game well. The problem was Newport, who were absolutely shambolic.

I have watched a lot of non-league football and A LOT of rubbish. Tonight’s performance from Newport was truly dire and made Bath City’s recent bad games, against Fisher and Bogor, look like Barcelona performances.

At 4-0, the vast majority of the stadium emptied, with home fans returning to their valleys (or wherever they live in a city like Newport… suburbs?). Many of them were understandably furious and vented their frustrations at their team. Good job too, as last season they took a dislike to their West Country neighbours, and issued us with threats of violence. Luckily, any anger this time around was fully directed at their hapless manager and set of players.

I was amazed how Bath City striker, Stuart Douglas, managed to get a hat trick this evening – despite missing a penalty – following on from his 2 goal escapades at the weekend! Dougy has received a lot of stick from the fans all season for performances which appeared weak and lazy, but he has really proved himself these last two games. He really amazed me – he’s certainly had his Weetabix.

I even joked with one fan that he should be tested for performance enhancing drugs, following his incredible turnaround of form. Stuart has been playing like a man possessed. I guess he has realised his contract is running out and would rather be playing football next season, than joining the dole queue.

Still, a great night for Bath City, which moves us up the league and above Team B*th.

Time for bed now, I think.

While collecting Simon from Sainsbury’s last night, I picked up a copy of the newly-released Resident Evil 5 for the PlayStation 3.

This has been a game I have been eagerly awaiting for ages, but this month was unable to justify forking out a load of money for it.

Then, realising where I was, I had an idea so fantastic a cartoon light bulb appeared my head. I was in Sainsbury’s and in possession of a Nectar Reward Card. I’m not a customer of the supermarket, but have acquired many points from my energy supplier, EDF.

My Nectar card may now be empty, but I am now in possession of Resi 5 for just over £10 – a very good game so far, which I will almost certainly blog about later.

Last night I went out with Simon and John for curry in town. The Chicken Balti was really nice, the restaurant lovely and the company very good. My fellow diners were not so great.

A party on the opposite table were having a series of heated debates, talking so loud, that everybody in the restaurant could hear their conversation.

Fuelled by copious bottles of wine, the discussion hit a racist tone, leading us to believe it was a BNP AGM. It was so bad, they made Hitler sound like Martin Luther King.

I later learnt they were not racists, simply morons, who laid into everyone from “ginger tossers” to “fat, overweight twats”.

It seemed that the table of drunken upper-class toffs had a strong hatred for any human being not in possession of 3 Bentleys, a pony and the ability to talk with a punnet of plums in their mouth.

We left before them. I was tempted to say my goodbyes. I didn’t know them, but after having their whole nights conversation thrust upon my ears, I felt as if we had been part of the same gathering.