Existential angst at Grays is so intense that maybe frustrations all come out on the pitch.
This was pure edge for the last 30 minutes: an orgy of moaning minnies, harrying of officials, jostling and whining, it left you wondering why refs get out of bed in the mornings.
Lewes is weird. They’ve been blowing up the Pope here for centuries at Britain’s best free show, the attractively lawless Lewes Bonfire night celebrations.
The football club is a strange cove too. And has been reflecting its slightly arty-farty status with some great match posters.
Miles from Nowhere 