The well-fought draw against Portsmouth last Saturday demonstrated the wisdom of expecting the unexpected so far as football is concerned.

Something that is surely part and parcel of supporting the Albion, a team who have a habit of ignoring the omens.

Some of last week's gloom was justified, with Steve Sidwell choosing the delights of the Madejski over the more unique qualities found at Withdean but, at the end of the day, the lad done good while we had him on loan.

He has to look to his longer-term career prospects and, at this point in the season, Reading obviously had the edge in this respect. This is why Graham Barrett's decision to turn down Preston's offer was a particularly cheering piece of news.

None of these comings and goings looked like they had a very unsettling effect on the lads last week when Portsmouth got more than they had bargained for in what, stomach-wise at least, was a breakfast-time derby.

Having kicked off with a bizarre 0-3-7 formation, Pompey soon realised their over-optimism and were chased around the pitch at a fearsome pace.

Paul Merson, faced with the job of marking Charlie, a subtle irony not missed by the H-Block singers, looked more like Medallion Man on an off-day than a former Premiership legend.

I'm still unclear about why Hislop had been turned out in baseball kit rather than anything vaguely resembling a goalkeeper's gear but at least it was green, in pleasant contrast to the rest of the horrible 'Half Man Half Biscuit' coloured Pompey away strip.

Ben Roberts acquitted himself well on his first outing as Kuipers' replacement. He looked keen and capable, if a little hasty on occasions and the televised version of the game revealed Pompey's Bulgarian striker Todorov might have had reasonable grounds for a penalty after his encounter with Roberts.

Any tiny lurking vestige of sympathy, however, evaporated immediately on watching the pre-match interviews with Pompey fans who had turned up, they assured anyone prepared to film them, to witness a walkover before taking three easy points home to Portsmouth.

Ninety minutes later, they had all caught a severe case of camera-shyness and slunk off, having, like a group of spurned Morris dancers, packed their bells away along with their complacency.

Although their bells were preferable to their truly terrible trumpeter of whom some wag in H Block said (and this is the printable version) "I'd have asked him to stick it up his bottom and play it, but he already has!"

Despite a cheering performance on the pitch, there were still some depressing inevitabilities connected to the game, namely the aggravation caused in central Brighton by some idiots who may have used the match as an opportunity for a grief-ridden outing.

A pub was virtually taken to pieces even though the police had insisted on an early kick-off in the hopes that this would deter the trouble-making element.

Unfortunately, where there is a will to cause trouble, there is always a way to outwit whatever deterrents are put in place, not least because most aggravation is pre-arranged.

Things have moved on a great deal from the Seventies when violence was an integral part of the match day experience but the lingering remnants of this culture are no less unsavoury today and the link between football and the behaviour of these thugs is an affront to people who love the game.

No matter how often the vandals proclaim their commitment to the game, they fool no-one. Not that most of them would recognise a game of football anyway since they are rarely within kicking distance of a stadium.

Roz South edits Brighton Rockz fanzine. Email roz@southspark.co.uk