Leyton Orient 2 Halifax Town 2, 6/4/19

A game which... began with only three points being good enough, yet ended with Orient fans wildly celebrating a draw thanks to a last-gasp bundle into the net by the illegitimate son of Princess Diana and a gingerbread man.

Some stuff happened in between – mostly our defence looking uncharacteristically baffled at the sight of a little circus fella with a top knot running at them with the ball. But fair play to Orient, coming back from 2-0 down takes character and the late goal will be psychologically significant if nothing else. That said, failing to beat a building society team – what the fuck?



Praise be... Josh Koroma, a player whose selfishness has such force it is sucking all the world's limelight inexorably towards him. A player whose stats today read: attempts at goal: 467; passes: 0. And a player who'll shoot from any angle, including from within the home dressing room or the team coach. But by God if he keeps scoring the type of screamer he did today, keep being selfish mate.

Taxi for... Come on, you think I'm going to single out a player for criticism when we're pushing for promotion? Well you're right, I am. Jay Simpson: terrible performance. Almost as if he came to us having played virtually no football in a country more renowned for sports such as baseball, beer pong and cheerleading. Don't worry, though, he'll come good.



In the dug out... I'll say one thing about Justin, he's not afraid to throw everything at a victory, and by the time the game ended today there were only two defenders left on the pitch, one of whom is the club's most prolific goal-scorer of 2019. Meanwhile four strikers, three wingers, Craig Clay and a kitchen sink all piled into Halifax's box, and I'm pretty sure every single one of them – and perhaps even James Alabi who wasn't even playing – got a touch in the scramble that led to the equaliser. In Just we Trust – unless we don't get promoted then sack the fucker immediately.

Are we going to get promoted? Well, we ain't gonna do it the easy way, but God bless this spirited group of players for getting us in the position where it's still in our own hands with five games to go. They are knackered, clearly. Macauley Bonne has played so much football this season he no longer bothers taking his kit off between matches and just jogs around the dressing room from Saturdays to Tuesdays to keep warm. Dean Brill rarely has time to have more than 6 or 7 meals a day. James Brophy's left foot is so tired that today he kicked the ball with his right for the first time in his career, with predictably catastrophic consequences. Keep the faith though, readers.

Meanwhile... The club's attempt to enter the Guinness Book of Records for slowest moving queue in history is proving highly successful, with some fans waiting up to three or four hours before being able to shuffle forward another six inches today. Yes, in a time when we can land craft on Mars, grow human organs in a laboratory and build robots to perform complex tasks, Leyton Orient Football Club cannot get its shit together to issue tickets to more than four people at any one time. There are still some unfortunate fans queueing for tickets to the promotion decider against Bury in 1962, while those waiting for a chance to see our FA Cup semi-final against Arsenal in 1978 still have many years before they're going to be near the front...

Leyton Orient 2 Gateshead 0, 1/12/18

A game which... began with Orient's 11 players suffering collectively from the extreme chronic fatigue caused by playing 90 minutes of football once or occasionally twice a week. As such, it looked very much like the game might be heading the way of the 0-0 draw with Aldershot, or worse, until Justin Edinburgh presumably bawled at half-time "DON'T YOU IDIOTS KNOW THAT YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE PROVIDING A SERVICE THAT OFFERS A DEGREE OF EXCLUSIVITY TO SUPPORTERS WHO PAY A PREMIUM?"

That seemed to do the trick. Well, that and another moment of magic from Josh Koroma and a juggernauting assist from James Alabi. Top of the league? Yep, we're having a laugh.

Praise be... Occasionally a young player comes through the ranks at Orient and lights up Brisbane Road with mercurial talent. The next day we sell that player to Norwich or Barnsley. No doubt Josh Koroma will go on to bigger and better things, but let's enjoy him while it lasts. Today's goal was yet another twisty-turny treasure, and if it wasn't for the extreme chronic fatigue I suspect he would have celebrated by running all the way to Bromley to laugh in George Porter's face.

Taxi for... With another table-topping victory under our belts, it would be unnecessarily cruel of me to single out a low-performing player from today's game. So that's exactly what I'll do: Sam Ling. Rubbish. What's that – he wasn't match fit? Yeah, tell that to the supporters who pay a premium.

In the dug out... "I hold my hands up and admit that I majorly fucked up the team selection," said Justin Edinburgh after Tuesday's draw with Aldershot, officially the worst result ever in the history of the club. Did he, though? Or is it probably acceptable that we don't win every single game? Personally if I was the manager of a team that had amassed 50 points in 23 games I'd select the same players over and over again until they bled through their eyes. Which, coincidentally, is what happened to me when I tried my first bottle of vino from the new Orient Wine Club last night.



Are we going to get promoted? Well, frankly if you're blessed with a striker who'll probably score 30-odd goals if he doesn't get injured, one of the league's brightest young attacking talents, a rock solid defence and, weirdly, Craig Clay then probably even Fabio Liverani could get us up to League Two. I jest, naturally, because a lot of the credit has to go to Justin Edinburgh for instilling the spirit and getting the team to play as it does – and Liverani would of course still be playing Bradley Pritchard on the right wing.

Meanwhile... And so to the Legends Lounge debacle. Quick summary: If you drink a pint of your own piss, or run naked across the pitch, or watch Orient's 2002/03 season review DVD, you become an "Orient Legend" and are allowed to drink in the Legends Lounge in the West Stand, which is modelled on the waiting lounge of a regional airport in the 1970s. Non-legend fans are also allowed in the bar after matches and mix with the legends and possibly some celebrity ex-players like Marc Laird or Billy Beall.



This week the club hierarchy decided to end the practice of allowing the plebs to mix with the aristocracy on the basis that legends should expect some sort of exclusivity and to have a post-match pint without some fucking peasant from the South Stand asking for a selfie. Then literally three or four people mildly questioned whether this was a good idea and the club immediately did an about turn and reversed the decision.

Anyway, I think I have a solution. The club should absolutely "provide a service that offers a degree of exclusivity to supporters who pay a premium" so perhaps everyone else should be forced to leave each game after 85 minutes to ensure the "legends" can enjoy the final moments in relative peace? You're welcome.