Clevedon's attacking superiority is so overwhelming it almost makes me feel something, which I assure you is extremely unpleasant. Bridgwater's Melker Lundin and Louie Richman will attempt to construct something meaningful in midfield, but against a home side generating six times as many meaningful attacks, it will be roughly as effective as shouting into a void — which, coincidentally, is how I spend most evenings. Pouliquen will barely need to trouble his gloves, standing in goal like a monument to irrelevance while the match happens entirely at the other end.

Clevedon's forward line is an absolute wrecking crew tonight — Bridgwater's defence is walking into a storm they cannot weather, and with only four attacks likely coming their way, this looks like a siege rather than a match. Max Black up front is going to feast on whatever scraps Bridgwater's backline leaves him, and they will leave him plenty. Home crowd, home turf, home dominance — Clevedon march through.