Wet Hams 1
Murillo (og) 13
Nottingham Forest 2
Dominguez 55, MGW (pen) 89

Everybody with even half a brain knows that this football business is absurd, but last night's match proved to be as daft as you can get. Apart from one or two flashes of competence, nothing much seemed to work as it was meant to, like a cuckoo clock made by an idiot.

The real problem, of course, was the context. Nuno's history with Forest and Wet Hams added a thick layer of emotional complication. Two teams struggling near the bottom of the league table jacked up the tension. The stadium at the Stratford Theatre of the Absurd echoed to the sound of empty seats or half hearted protesters. Given these circumstances, no wonder the football was, as my mate put it, "a bit mental".

It quickly turned out that this match would be decided not by the quality of football but by Saint Bedlam the patron saint of lunatics. Good stuff, like shots from CHO and Neco Williams, went unrewarded, while weird stuff ended up in the back of the net. That Wet Hams corner, conceded after Hutchinson's silly attempt at a Cruyff turn, was not intended to reach Murillo's head, but as soon as it did, the more unstable Forest fans (which means most of them) concluded that Forest were going down - despite the match being only 13 minutes old and the season barely half over. The anxiety turned to a kind of furious depression later when Wet Hams scored their second after yet another of those dodgy corner decisions which always seem to go against Forest. Not long afterwards, however, Saint Bedlam intervened in the form of VAR, overturning the goal because some poor Wet Hams bloke was offside by the thickness of his shirt. VAR being the laughing stock it is, most people suspected that their decision let the ref off the hook for his earlier blunder. Anyway, the Forest fans gave their heads a wobble and their faith was restored - not in Forest or their unimaginative manager, you understand, but in the general randomness of things.

Not long after the VAR business, Dominguez equalised for Forest with a spectacular backwards header which looped into the Wet Hams net in the only spot it could never be saved. This achievement appeared to send Dominguez mad. It was either a brilliant goal or a brilliant flick into the danger area, but in either case it was brilliant. What it was meant to be didn't matter, because by now this game had gone beyond reason and was wandering around like a noisy drunk in a car park.

The match continued to stumble its way through an oblivion of wretched passes and frustrated fans until it became clear that it had 1-1 written all over it. It had 1-1 written all over it because we reckoned that critical matches like this never decided anything and both goals had probably been flukes and neither side deserved to win anyway so we'd take a point and live to fight another day. As Old Uncle Boff used to say, "Most people are bloody stupid", and this match was proving him right.

Saint Bedlam had one more trick up his sleeve. I've no idea whether Aureola's misdirected punch warranted a penalty, but VAR did, and that was good enough for the Forest fans, whose brains refused to engage in debate because they had turned to scrambled egg. And anyway, VAR owed us a few.

MGW fired the penalty straight at the goalkeeper who moved out of the way, and after a period of decent game-management Forest forged their first league victory since they beat Tosspots 3-0.

The result meant that Forest went seven points clear of 18th placed Wet Hams. And that was all it meant. It did not mean that Forest were suddenly a good side, or that Dyche was a good manager, or that Forest would move up the table or that Forest would get relegated, or that Dyche would get sacked or that Nuno would get sacked. The only certainties to be drawn from this match are that life can be a bitch or an angel, and that predictability is the currency of fools.

Arse next. Go on, predict that one.