A rough patch, a downturn, a sticky phase: call it what you will, we’re in one.

Nine goals conceded in the past three games, a single entry in the ‘goals for’ column and we’ve been well beaten in all of them. That purple patch over Christmas and January feels like a long time ago already.

What’s gone wrong? Only the management team will really know, but there are obvious red flags. First, it has to be said, we’ve been beaten by good teams. Carshalton, Wingate and Billericay are all very decent sides who will be sniffing around the play-offs.

Second, the striker situation is becoming a worry. With Deon gone, there’s no back-up for Tommy Wood, who’s been sat next to Tony on the bench for much of the past three games for reasons unknown. Keiran Murtagh – who’s barely had a kick in midfield for the past few months – was pressed into ’emergency striker’ action last night. He did about as well as could be expected, but I’m pretty sure we didn’t muster a shot on target all evening.

Third, we’ve got to do something about the number of goals we’re conceding. We’ve shipped 18 goals in our past six games, averaging three conceded per game (that A-Level maths wasn’t wasted, mum). To put that into perspective, rock-bottom Kingstonian who’ve conceded the most goals in the league, have shipped an average of 2.3 goals per game.

It doesn’t help when we’re gifting them goals. Somehow we turned a throw-in in their half into a goal for them, without one of their players touching the ball. Sam Oguntayo threw the ball back to Jake Elliott, who didn’t seem to be under any great pressure, yet still decided to go home to Harvey. Whether the strong winds caught the back pass or not, it left Harvey completely helpless as the ball bobbled into his net.

It left the Philcox in a weird, stunned silence. Even Spooky didn’t murmur, and he last fell silent in 1985, when he dropped his half-eaten Wagon Wheel in the playground.

Until that point, it had been a fairly even dust-up, but the own goal popped our balloon. Billericay twice came close to extending their lead, before they actually did. Ruben Soares and Frankie Merryfield combined down the right and the latter slotted the ball home with half-time approaching.

Before the lads got a chug on the Lucozade, however, there was more drama to put the game beyond doubt. Soares had spent the past 30 seconds lying prostrate on the turf, trying to convince the ref he needed major surgery while Lewes were on the attack.

Suddenly, when the ball squirted back in his direction, he decided to remove himself from the NHS waiting list and sprint after the ball. Ronnie Vint chopped him down, and then stood over the winger – like a Roy Keane/Alfie Haaland tribute act – to give him a piece of his mind.

Word has it that Vint called the winger “a f***ing cheat”, which isn’t going to win him The Nobel Peace Prize, but is (like it or not) the kind of language that is uttered on men’s football fields about 65 times a game.

The referee, presumably on day release from Balamory, decided this was sufficient to warrant a straight red card. And by the letter of the law, it absolutely is. But if we’re sending off players for offending one another now, I’d buy shares in the FA, because it’s about to become the richest organisation in the world from disciplinary fines alone.

But let’s be honest, it was highly doubtful we were getting anything from this game, even with all 11 bodies on the field. Every time we got a sniff of their penalty box, they blocked us out or we shot wide. We had decent spells of possession, but no cutting edge.

That they only added a third in the second period – a scrawny shot that deflected in off Arthur Penney – was a minor positive. But with games coming up against in-form Hastings, Chatham and Horsham, we need to find something to stop this season drifting into a mid-table finish.

Lewes: Harvey, Ming, Elliott, Vint, Oguntayo, Whelpdale, Olukoga, Penney, Gondoh, Lumbombo-Kalala, Murtagh

Subs: Tamplin, Ogunwamide, Wood, Sablier

Supporters club man of the match: Slim pickings, but Whelpdale looked the most likely to make something – anything – happen.

Boyesy’s brilliant photos:

Highlights from Your Instant Replay: