A pitiful display for the most part finds a lethargic Logica crashing out of the Cup to lower division opponents. Given their current league position, this second cup exit of the season means that Fleming and Trovato’s chances of securing some silverware in their first season in charge are now distinctly remote. The first mutterings of "Fleming Out" are heard on the terraces after the match, and rumours that extrovert multi-trillion-zillionaire business-man Keith Sidaway is making advances to struggling Fulham Supremo Kevin Keegan on Logica’s behalf, are denied vehemently by both camps.

All that may be put forward in Logica’s defence is the absence of a number of their star names. Johninho begins an as yet undetermined period of suspension, much unnerved by rumours of a life ban for last week’s record-quick red card. Richmond, Hoyland and Spence are all injured, Captain Trovato, somewhat bizarrely, is at work, and Clarkes major and minor have notes from their mothers excusing them from games. On top of this, up-and-coming star James Anthony fails to materialise on the day with the traditional ‘mate who fancies a game’, due to alarm clock problems beyond his control.

To add further confusion, a pre-match convoy disaster scenario of Staunton-esque proportions threatens to unravel itself as four cars leave the Noncey French Pastry Shop in Clapham in completely different directions. Luckily Logica is much more a Tier One outfit these days, and a number of ‘moby’s’ are on hand to aid poor communication. Thus an assertive Xenophontos, who is quite clear he knows where the ground is, gets on the dog and bone to the Committee Car, to inquire as to the whereabouts of the much-travelled Hatton and Fleming. Complex directions from our confident Cockney are ignored, because Fleming has the one and only map. A second call reports that an avid Akis has arrived at the ground. Fleming responds that he is on his way, but on arrival, there is no sign of the stocky East End right-back’s Tier One motor. Shortly, Xenophontos is on the blower again, complaining that he can’t see the changing rooms. It quickly emerges that the reason for this is because he is at completely the wrong location, and just for a laugh we dispatch an eager Bramwell, in his brand new car, to go and fetch our lost geezer. Miraculously, all cars eventually converge on the intended venue, and Xenophontos is left mumbling something about it ‘not being my manor, Guv’ to a weary Fleming.

So turning up twenty minutes late, we have already pissed our referee off who won’t talk to us for the rest of the game. Our football is about as co-ordinated as our ill-fated convoy, and we quickly find ourselves in disarray as well as a goal down. Some acrobatic and spectacular saves from impressive goalkeeper Mike Davis keep us in the game, but a decidedly limp attack makes this more of a mathematical possibility than anything else. Two further Balham goals just before half time mean the calculators can be put away. The third goal is very unfortunate for Davis who dribbles out of his box to clear up field but slips at the vital moment, and the ball is lobbed back into an empty net.

Some half-time verbals have immediate impact as Racing Club add a fourth goal within minutes from a corner. After this Logica do start to play a bit, and create a few half chances. Inexplicably, it is the defender Appleyard who finds himself on the end of the few chances created, being in turn unlucky with a fifteen yard header on the run, a foot or so wide with a shot from the edge of the box, and just beaten to a teasing cross from Abbott by a defender who clears from just under the bar.

As the game nears it’s predictable conclusion, A Balham forward breaks clear of the thin red line, and is bearing down on goal when Chopper Xenophontos decides to ‘sort it out, mate’. The Racing striker is lucky to retain all four limbs, and our Kray-sie right-back is incredibly lucky to escape without even a booking. Johninho must be turning in his bed.