Haverfordwest seem to be a bunch of fouling, time-wasting, fluorescent shirted bastards. Their entire approach was encapsulated in a 10 second period near the end; their number 12 tried to shoulder charge Les, nothing given, Les did likewise and the number 12 collapsed like a puch drunk boxer. Haverfordwest get the free kick. Number 15 slaps number 12 on the back to heartily congratulate him. Shower of twats.