Who'd have thought it? Could there possibly be something worse than this afternoon's day oot at the fitba? Well, actually, aye. A five to five arrival at Morrisons should have left ample time for the provision of beerdy-beverage and the journey back to the station. However, thanks to the directions of big Stewie P, we were left high and dry when we got to the train line and found ourselves blocked… the vision of an unfinished footbridge just out of reach was even more painful than the team's second half performance.

Shouldn't really complain about Stewart's navigational skills, mind. If it had been up tae me or the nurse (a sadly depleted BURGER crew today you'll notice), we'd have been somewhere in the Ochils by the time that night fell. But at the time it still didnae stop me wantin' tae gie the big man a good wallop in his own set of Ochils… To be fair to him, he did eventually get us back to the right side of the station – but not before we'd taken the opportunity to once again cast an eye over the cursed stadium that had earlier witnessed the final nail being well and truly hammered into our play-off dreams (ye get a far better quality mixed metaphor from the Friday Club...).

As if once hadn't been bad enough. However, at three o'clock we were still blissfully unaware of the torturous ninety minutes that lay ahead. It was a bright, if blustery, afternoon; everything was set up for a cracking game – the Fife buoyed by last weekend's win over Shitraer and the Binos with something to prove after their humbling at the National Midden. There was also the trifling little prospect of having to be satisfied with mid-table misery if we failed to take all three points. As it was, right from kick off it appeared that the guys in red were the far more motivated.

Granted, our heroes were playing into a hefty breeze in the first half but, even so, it was evident very early on that if we to take anything from today's game it was gonna be down to hard work, guts and determination rather than silky, classy football.

Not that we were witnessing much of anything in the opening moments of the game. It was the home side who pushed forward, retaining some neat possession and proving the more adept at dealing with the conditions. Their first attempt on goal, just a couple minutes in, ended when McKenna's speculative shot from the edge of the box squirmed harmlessly past Broonie's post. It was an early warning however that the Reds' forward was right in the mood. He was eventually to prove to be our nemesis... (cue the spooky music from stage left...).

Just moments later, however, we'd created our own first opportunity (don't recall many more throughout the afternoon) when Lloyd Young just about got on the end of the Boaby's pass; sadly, he was knocked off balance so his shot sliced well wide and the danger was gone.

The Binos continued to push forward but, in spite of their possession, failed to create an awful lot in front of goal. In the centre of the Fife defence, Jay and Toro were living up to their normal high standards and both putting in decent shifts. However, midway through the half big Smartie picked up a sore one following a clumsy challenge by Martin Grehan (ah think).

He limped off to the side of the park and, following, some magic sponge treatment, resumed his duties in defence but lasted just another few minutes before being subbied by the Div. The youngster's not had many starts – today was to prove to be a really stern test; he just about came through it but won't have too many positive memories from his latest outing.

Not that many of our heroes will be particularly pleased with their efforts. We huffed and puffed and made the runs but, far too often, passes went astray and our infrequent forays into Albion territory were easily mopped up by the home defence.

At the other end the Reds finally found their shooting boots and in the remaining minutes of the first half bore down on Michael Brown's goal almost at will. On the half hour mark it looked like they'd opened the scoring when Brown flapped feebly at a Mark Docherty effort and had to rely on the quick wits of McDonald as he cleared the goal bound effort off the line.

The goalie was to redeem himself shortly afterwards, however. Undaunted by their failures so far, the Binos pushed forward with even more enterprise. Following some neat interpassing play, Andy Graham found himself one-on-one with the Fife keeper who stayed BIG and deflected the forward's effort. Moments later, Brown, plucked another dangerous looking cross out of the air as the Stirling players queued up at the far post.

In the dying moments of the half it appeared that they'd outwitted our defence when we failed to clear an innocuous looking corner, the ball falling for Grehan who'll feel that he should have done far better. With the goal gaping and keeper Brown on his arse we can be most assuredly grateful that Grehan not only looks like a donkey but plays football like one too.

The cheat brought the half to an end just moments later, pausing momentarily to book the Wonderhorse on the way off – his report will mention that the big striker had been flaunting his tallness all afternoon and was pure askin' for it, like. Whatever the reason, it made a change that it wasnae Shaun Fagan who was pickin' up the yellow card. (Where was Fagan today anyway…? And how long's he suspended?).

Ah made ma way tae the stand, had a pish and second thoughts about a pie – call me fussy but ah'm no' too keen on the bog and the kitchen being in the same room. So, hungrily (but no' that hungrily) ah headed up tae the other end, had a quick chat with the Corstorphine man and mentioned that ah still thought we could win this one. The incredulous look on his puss told me exactly what he was thinking...

But undeterred, ah took ma place at the end of the pitch convinced that ah'd have plenty to keep my camera snapping at this end. Ah, weel, that was the idea at least. Two minutes intae the second half and a hundred yards from me and Jim C, David McKenna didn't hesitate when he got the chance to prove that a gusty wind means hee-haw when you're ten yards fae goal and the ball's sittin' up nicely. His looping header was enough to just beat the keeper (can't help thinking that if Mr Brown hadnae been so far oot his goal, he might have gotten more than his finger tips to it) and, in spite of another desperate goal line clearance by big Greig, the linescheat saw it criss the line, waved his flag in the air (like a big lassie) and the goal was given. Fuckin' great start tae the second half...

But if we thought that was bad, you just don't want to start thinking about our response on the park. In recent months we've grown used to going behind but usually our comeback has been determined, considered and professional. Today, however, it was completely devoid of any proficiency, skill or versatility. It was like the life was totally blown out of us, leaving us lacklustre, prosaic and utterly uninspired. Proof perfect that even if God doesn't exist, aliens certainly do - they'd landed and replaced all of our normally effervescent team with a shower of lookalike zombies who'd never kicked a ball in their lives (or un-lives if that's what zombies have).

No' that the Binos were scared (fuck, Stirling folk are half vampire anyway; they don't give a shit about zombies!) - they accepted the gift that the Fife delivered and banged forward at every opportunity. Just seconds after the opener they should have added a second. The fired a great cross into the box and Grehan rose, unmarked, and had only to pick his spot. Satisfyingly, his quality in the air matches his acumen on the ground; his effort looked more like a well controlled pass back and even Brown, whose confidence was shot tae fuck, was able to catch and smother the ball.

Grehan's luck didn't improve at the nexy Albion attack either. Just on the hour mark they piled forward again and easily found the room in the Fife box for another pop at goal - once again, however, Grehan's could do no more than skelp the ball against the keeper and watch is trundle behind for a corner. But from the resulting kick McKenna was happy to oblige, popping the ball home from close range and showing the kind of class that everyone else on the park could only aspire to. It was just too fuckin' easy for the big forward.

The best that can be said for the remaining thrity minutes is that we somehow managed to stop McKenna grabbing his hat-trick. Honest, that's it. We persisted in pumping long high balls forward and, frustratingly, the Stirling defenders persited in lumping the ball straight back up the park. On the rare occasions that we kept the ball on the deck and tried to slide passes through the channels, the linescheat's flag invariably went up to signal that either Shagger of the Boaby were offside. It was as disillusioning as ah can remember - a display utterly deficient of any character at all.

And apart from that and the silent acceptance from the Fife fans, all that we gathered in the closing minutes was a yellow card for the Fozzmeister when his frustrations spilled over and he banjoed one of their midfielders. Ah guess we should think ourselves lucky that the big lad wasn't just sent for an early bath.

He didn't have long to wait in any case. The whistler was as bored as everyone else in the stadium amd called things to a halt just a minute into injury time. The home fans rose to applaud their team, the away fans rose and wifed the sleep out of their eyes before morosely heading for the exist. Not yet the end of March and the season now definitively over.

Which left me and the boys with just enough time to walk into town, out of town and into town. We dragged our weary arse onto a train at the back of six and shared out the comestibles in a vain attempt tae liven our spirits. Mike just had a bottle of water (mental bastard!), ah plumped for some 6% ABV stuff that we'd looted at Morrisons (mentaler bastard!!) and Stewart took it easy, preferring instead tae wait for a glass of Chardonnay with a few friends later (mentalest bastard!!!) and that was that. Shitey performance, shitey three mile walk around an industrial estate and a shitey night in. Only decent thing that happened was ma wife tellin' me tae get tae fuck when ah wanted tae put the Scotland game on. The way that turned out, ah'm glad ah had ten bob's worth of Casualty. Another performance like today's an' we could all end up in hospital!!!