Shocking stuff

With the possible exception of being holed up in a five star luxury hotel with two Swedish nymphomaniacs (female, that is), I cannot usually think of a single place I would rather be on a Saturday afternoon than at the football.

Yesterday at 4.45pm I wanted to be anywhere but Craven Cottage. A soul-destroying, yet utterly predictable defeat that makes relegation a probability rather than a possibility sucked out my will to live. Miserable and gloomy, the weather mirrored my mood.

But it wasn’t just me that was feeling the strain.

The demoralising way in which we capitulated – yet again – also triggered a worrying step-change in the attitude of the crowd. Until now Roy’s Army have enjoyed pretty much 100% support on the terraces (oh, okay then, plastic seats) but people are now running out of patience.

The mood among those fans that remained in their seats to the bitter end – rather than joining the river of black and white heading for the exits - began to turn ugly. Tempers were well and truly frayed. It’s unpleasant to see fans turning on each other but perhaps understandable.

One fiercely contested debate – concerning the virtues or otherwise of Joe Kamara – kicked off right in front of me. It was purely a combination of frustration and disappointment but it was upsetting to see and symptomatic of our current plight.

My guess, or hope at least, is that the usual good humour for which Fulham fans are known will return by the time Liverpool pitch up in SW6, if only for the fact that by then the vast majority of us will be pretty much resigned to our fate.

The only way now, it seems, is down but I just hope we can take our final bow in the Premier League together rather than apart.