“No one likes us we don’t care” was the cry from the Millwall fans last night as we ventured into bandit country for our first visit in 33 years.
Truth is, I have always had a bit of a soft spot for Millwall.
This is due to when back in the eighties after a London game, I got separated from my mates and ended up asking a lad how to get back to Hyde Park where our buses used to park.
Turns out he was one of Millwall’s lads who had just finished working “up west” at his day job and was having a pint or seven after work.
So I took up his offer and he showed me a few drinking haunts before getting me back for our midnight bus home.
Anyway, back to 2026 and as soon as Millwall away was announced, it seemed like every football lad was eager to go.
So so come match day the 12.24 pm train is pulling out of toon central with a full carriage of the ugly bus in attendance.
Getting into London and checking into the Royal (hovel) Scot Hotel, then straight out and over to London Bridge too meet up with the Newcastle United rapidly ageing hooligan mob.
Come kick-off and it’s the overground train to South Bermondsey where the police have everything boxed off, so into the ground for a borefest of a 1-0 win.
Train back to King’s Cross and instead of reliving our past shenanigans, it is pizza and an early night whilst contemplating getting the village of the damned in the next round.