Life's funny, innit? Funny peculiar, I mean, not funny ha-ha; the humour and levity was drained from life here in Old Blighty some time ago. So I look to irony for my kicks these days, as on Saturday when I visited Brentford's Griffin Park for the visit of relegation-threatened Hartlepool United. My main purpose was to see again the home team's goalkeeper, Wojciech Szczesny, of course. Delighted though I was by his latest faultless display, it was, ironically, Scott Flinders in the opposite goal that produced a performance I've never witnessed before and will never forget.

But first to the younger (by exactly five years, I say it again as it is, er, ironic) of our two Polish goalkeepers. A teenager until last month, Szczesny will surely be The Bees' player of the season. Again he did all that was required, making some very decent saves. Twice I've seen him recently and he conceded solitary goals both times; neither his fault I hasten to add. This time he kept a clean sheet, or would have done had his adoring manager not made the most sentimental of substitutions at the start of second-half injury time. Szczesny was replaced and exited stage right to a standing ovation and rapturous applause, which I was happy to join. Unlike everyone else in the main stand, though, I was hoping he'd not be back next season. I want him at E******s, and not as a bench warmer.

And so to Scott Flinders. Hartlepool's season was precariously poised with six minutes remaining of this goalless draw. The two sides below them, Exeter and Tranmere were both winning, so a mere point would see them leapfrogged and relegated, or so I thought. Then two of the local youth decided to invade Flinders' penalty area, as a bit of a larf. Stewards and police made entirely predictable half-hearted attempts to remove them quickly. One of the two lads ventured too close to Mr Flinders, who picked him up, carried him to the goal line and unceremoniously dumped him on the turf. I winced and smirked. The little oik wanted to mix it with the Hartlepool goalie, who was at least twice his size. Luckily for him, he was dragged away by a steward but at least his legal brief can claim diminished responsibility and insanity; only a madman of his size would want to "get it on" with the imposing Number 1. His equally feral accomplice then ventured too close to Hartlepool's Lehmann-esque stopper, whose mood had not improved. This other product of Blair and Brown's Broken Britain received similar treatment, bringing to mind the saying that a fool never learns. His descent to earth was even harder, or so I'd like to think.

Some home fans behind the Hartlepool goal took exception to the manhandling of their unlicensed animals by a visiting player. Missiles were thrown and I thought it was about to "go off". But the game re-started quickly and I was not alone among the seated contingent to applaud Mr Flinders' every touch of the ball thereafter. Respect. So far have we fallen as a nation, charges of assault against the goalie would not come as a surprise. News came that Gillingham had lost at Wycombe, sending them down due to Hartlepool's superior (perhaps "less inferior" is more apt) goal difference. "Gills r down", I texted my Maidstone United chum. As both teams re-emerged, both sets of fans were happy. Well, all except two.

You all saw Fabianski's latest inept performance on Sunday, and may even have partaken in the ironic cheering (as did I) that his early mishandlings prompted. I've just received Arsene's thoughts on the game (the general Arsenal email, I don't yet have a hotline to Heaven), in which he describes Fabianski as at "such a young age". What? He's 25. Petr Cech had won the Premier League twice at 24. The portents are not good for how long we must wait for a proper Pole between our sticks. Perhaps The Bees' fans will get their man again after all.