Tranmere Rovers 0
Hartlepool United 0

Fizzy Pop League One

Great hairy Christ, it was awful. Pound for pound one of the worst games I have watched for many a month. I may have been more forgiving if it hadn't taken me four hours to get over to God's Country, but I doubt it.

The one saving grace was the opportunity to catch up with one-time nemesis Glocko, award-winning programme editor and tea boy with Cammel Lairds, now a gun for hire, mulling over offers from various non-league power houses. But truth be told it was scant consolation.

As two refugees from the glamorous world of professional football, and former Tranmere die-hards, last night's game was an opportunity for the Super White Army to show us both what we were missing. They failed. Abysmally.

I could bore you with the shocking details. But I do not have the energy. No one came out of the game with any credit. Les Parry may well have plastered over the cracks left by John Barnes' horror three months. And on a shoestring budget. But it isn't pleasurable to watch. That the locals were prepared to boo the team off tells me that they are growing tired of the excuses. It amazes me, and saddens me no end, that there are undoubtedly worse teams in the division. Tranmere will be safe. As will Hartlepool. That may be all they want or expect. But it's not worth £16 of anyone's money.