I just bet we lose at Plymouth

Suddenly, spring has sprung, there are daffodils and crocuses popping up in the Palace garden, birdies are tweeting and the Eagles are soaring (well, not exactly soaring, but we're tenth and we did somehow beat West Brom).

Three weeks ago, the season looked all over, but after Wednesday's excellent win, we're now only eight points off the play-offs and that eternal optimist within us is dreaming of sneaking up on the rails and catching the faltering top six off balance.

Can we do it? For the first time all season, the pulses quicken a little bit, we need another big win at Home Park tomorrow, we need to push ourselves up onto the shoulders of the chasing pack, we need to continue with the recent good form, it's almost very nearly exciting. Blimey, the match almost matters... the ghosts of 2004's miraculous run come floating before us. Could we? Will we?

You can see what's coming can't you? We're daring to dream here, we're thinking 'what if?' and 'maybe', some of us are even rummaging around for calculators. We're fools to ourselves aren't we... we'll lose 1-0.

Rhyme and reason (well, not much reason)

There was an unknown player from Leeds
Whose line-up to Palace he leaked
The plan backfired
Our play-off hopes expired
Because we're too feeble to even bloody go up there and give them a half decent game even when they're useless and stapled to the bottom of the table, God we're rubbish...

I dunno, I'm struggling with that last line a bit

How about next week's game. Just a mo... how's about

There was a treacherous flat nose from Birming..hum
Who sold his soul to work for porno-peddling scum
About that we used to be sore
But we can't be bothered anymore
They'll probably beat us, 3-1

They're trickier than they look these limericks.