Forfar's on the map of Scotland just beyond "Here Be Dragons" in big, green letters. Getting there from Arbroath (the home of the eponymous Angusfifer) is somewhat of an adventure in itself. Trying hard to avoid eye contact with anyone at the bus station (mainly for Stewart's benefit), we jumped on the Number 7 and were soon on our way, accompanied by a strange character wearing what looked like either one of those auld fashioned, National Health hearing aids or a modern, wanky, Blue Tooth earpiece. The same guy was on the bus back after the game but when I asked him about it, he just said, "What...?".

It was a sadly depleted gang of BURGER boys (nae girl this week...) that made the trip north today but once inside the citadel that is Station Park, we soon met up with a few of the others who'd driven up, including Barry the Fanny who'd brought along his new burd (who said romance is dead?). I didn't have much of an opportunity to speak with her but she certainly looks a lot better than the ugly bastard that Barry's currently living with....

And talking of looking better than the usual bastards, I have to say that I was more than impressed by the stand side linesman today; Morag or Moira I think her name was. Wee, dark haired, flat chested, and strangely braw wi her wee rosy cheeks - a bit beaky but I can hardly huckle someone about the size of their nose.... And, despite lookin' a bit peely-wally ('cept for the cheeks), she appeared eminently do-able..... right up until the thirty fifth minute anyway.

Forfar had already taken an early lead just nine minutes in when, against the run of play, they headed upfield in a counter attack, the move culminating in a decent effort by John Ovenstone. It looked to be an easy enough job for Wight but the ball took a deflection off Jonnie Smart and ended up in the back of the net. Bummer....

Undaunted however, we continued to play good, passing football and fought our way back into the game. The Loons also appeared to be playing as well as they have all season so, even though this was pretty much a meaningless game for both teams, we were entertained by some great free-flowing football. Paul McManus was again on top form and made some tireless runs creating space for Lloyd Young and the evergreen Bobby Linn. It was the Boaby who made a fantastic break into the Loons' box just ten minutes from the break. As he was making space for a shot on goal, he was floored by a clumsy, mis-timed challenge by Elliot Smith and the ref had no hesitation in pointing to the spot.

It seemed like a pinned on penalty to everyone in the stadium except Morag the Toe-rag who beckoned the ref over, muttered some sweet nothings into his ear and pinned her colours to the (his??) mast. Nae penalty and a yellow card for the Boaby for divin'. My arse! In the space of ten seconds she'd ceased bein' the wee burd in the sexy uniform (yes, I am that scary....) tae the ugliest wee interferin' wifey you could ever hope tae see.

And that, together with the fifty quid we'd already all 'invested' at the local Coral shop looking like it was heading south, fair took the edge of the remainder of the first half. The honey-trapped whistler called a halt to proceedings and the teams trotted off for a cuppa. I swithered about a bridie but, in the end, opted instead for a pish in the plush toilets behind the goal. Wish ah'd just held it in - Forfar may have much to laud it (deerstalker hats, Tory farmers, eternal rainy season - aye, awright, maybe no'...) but the standard of the bogs is probably as bad as I can recall anywhere in the country. Fuckin' disgusting!

But you'll be pleased to know that I climbed down from my soapbox in time for the second half. The torrential rain continued but the lads came out and fair brightened up the afternoon. Forfar continued to play well but it was an even more determined display from the Fife that was to finally wear our hosts down. It did take some time however, and it wasn't until fifteen minutes from time that we pulled ourselves level; some strong play in the box left McManus in space just ten yards out and he was confident enough to drive home with some style. It was a crackin' goal and surely something for us to build on to drive for all three points.

But the goal failed to dampen the spirits of our hosts, sadly, and from the kick off they pushed forward and pressured the Fife defence. Big Tweedie and Smartie had been their usual mountainous selves throughout and continued to look confident. With their usual partners, Greig and Dougie, they appeared to be in complete control but some misfortune was soon tae lead them to pay a heavy price.

We seemed to have mopped up another Loons attack quite comfortably but as Greig picked up the ball at the far corner flag, his feet went from under him on the slippy surface and gifted the ball to Forfar. From the edge of the box Michael Stewart chanced his luck with a longe-range effort which simply battered off the oncoming Jonnie Smart (granted, some folk saw it as Steven Tweed - doesnae really matter; it was a fuckin' sickener anyway....) and looped over Craig Wight who was helpless to stop the ball ending up in the goal.

The last ten minutes of the game then proved vindication, if we ever needed it, for our beliefs about the beautiful game - it all went bonkers. Less than two minutes after going behind, we were level again and this time it was pay back for Greig McDonald. Moments earlier he'd inadvertently caused the Loons' second goal. Now he picked the ball up deep, headed forward and, from just inside his own half, fired forward a great pass towards the edge of the Forfar box. It was too long for Templeman or Linn to pick up but, as the keeper came out to collect the ball, it bounced over him and half a second later the net bulged. In the leaky old shed that they'd housed us in, the fans went bananas. Two - two and still plenty of time to grab all three points!

Needlesstosay, I missed all of the action so there's no need to go looking for my photos. And, just in case of any further ramifications, ah'll also confirm right now that I have no photographic evidence of the one-man pitch invasion that took place while the players were celebrating. Not that Tayside's Finest knew much about it. While the polis relaxed and did whatever it is they do in Forfar, it was left to three stewards (fat, bald, short, useless... you know the type) tae wait for the pitch invasion to climb back intae the stand and escort him to the exit.

Simply being there to witness it all will be enough for me. By the time I'd gotten home tonight I was already remembering that Greig's 55 yard effort was a shot and not a pass and that the punch that was swung by the invasion was nothing more than a misunderstanding. And that'll be good enough for me. Well, that and the fact that with time running out, we really put the tin lid on Forfar's afternoon and scored a third.

It's a sign of champs that they never give up so credit to Baikie and the boys. Pushing forward we were unlucky to see a goalbound effort knocked wide by some deft defending. However, from the resulting corner, Ryan Blackadder fired over a perfect cross; the only question to be asked was who was gonna nod it home. Both Smartie and the Wonderhorse went for it and, from the subsequent celebrations, both looked to be claiming the goal. The truth of the matter however is that big Chris got the decisive touch and ensured that we'd all be heading home with huge grins on our pusses.

And so, despite getting' soaked on the ten minute walk back into town, it was a happy wee gang of Burgers who squelched their way into the Burns Bar on the High Street, ordering drinks while Angus picked up our winnings at the bookies - fuck you all messrs Corals.... We just about doubled our money but some daft Celtic fan was even happier - East Fife's victory meant he'd picked up £400 from the same bookies. No' that the miserable fucker put his hand in his pocket tae thank us....

All the same, we still enjoyed the beers that we did buy. However, all too soon it was time tae head off for the bus back to Smokie Town. Both that and the subsequent journey back to Fife were uneventful enough but it was just when I was getting off the train at Kirkcaldy that ah realised ah'd left ma gloves and me new East Fife tammy sittin' on the bar in Forfar. If the loaded fenian is reading this, do us a favour and use a couple of quid of yer winnings tae parcel them up and post them back tae me.... I know it's nearly April but it's no' gettin' any fuckin' warmer!

See you all next week at Bayview - ah'll be the the baldy twat wi' the cold ears....

For photos from our Putfile site Click Here