Sing along with me:
Que Sera Sera
Egotism his favourite vice
He’s been sacked by Chelsea twice
Que Sera Sera
If there were any justice in the world, this is the ditty that should ring out on terraces across the land this weekend.
Cast aside all other news this week, and rejoice, for the special one has been hooked from stage left – and not a moment too soon. This Portuguese mountebank, this grumbling, mewing, odorous specimen, this pus-filled, stinking, self obsessed, whinnying wastrel has been booted out, kicked into the long grass, removed, humiliated and distraught, from Chelsea Football Club. Anyone who has witnessed this twerp’s countenance this seasons, and that is, everyone in the world, can surely have laughed hard and long at the extraordinary outburst following their defeat by Leicester City, in which he appeared simultaneously supremely arrogant and utterly helpless. Paranoid, twitchy, he looked like a man who is sleeping in his car with only a crack pipe for company.
His descent into near-madness has been wondrous to witness. An early Christmas present to football. Doubly satisfying in that firstly Chelsea hover one point above the relegation zone, in disarray, the dressing room in open revolt, with John Terry hoping to retire to become the new leader of Britain First, and Frauden Hazfake finally revealing the extent of his abilities, and that humanoid disaster zone Costa becoming as much use as a pair of milk shoes. And secondly, he is if not the best manager in the world (if you like that sort of thing) then certainly in the top five. Hate him or merely loathe him, you cannot deny that the scoundrel is a trophy machine. It is truly a joyous day for all. The icing on the cake would be an announcement from the Chelsea compound that includes the words “Rodgers” and “Brendan” and “immediately”.
I have always despised the unshaven joithead with his ditchwater 4-3-3, his thuggish midfielders, his gamesmanship and his joy in strangling the life out of football. The inveterate moron has become king of the inveterate morons, the Chelsea fans who are under the misapprehension that the bile directed at these horrendous arrivistes from Fulham is somehow based on jealousy of their recent success. It is not: We do not want to play football like a gang of rubber robots. We just abhor you. As Mr. Windsor put it in 2005: “I know we live in a world where we have only winners and losers, but once a sport encourages teams who refuse to take the initiative, the sport is in danger.”
Let us light up a pipe and consider the events appurtenant to Senhor Mounrinho’s exit.
The arrivals of grinning inducer of underwhelm and owner of the worst haircut in the western world, Pedro; the very ordinary Baba Rahman who arrived from Augsburg for a highly amusing £17.7million and Fraudulent Falcao all sounded the knell for Mr. Mourinho earlier this year. Costa and Hazard turned to shit. John Terry is a hollowed out husk of the violent racist he was five years ago. He then took the unusual and stupid step of publicly admonishing a much-liked team doctor for doing her job. They lost 2-1 to Palace in August, then won only three of their next six matches. The rest of football began praying that this might be a really terrible, soul-destroying season for Chelsea. The rot had set in. Their belief had gone.
Abusing the referee on their loss to Southampton earned Mourinho a £50,000 fine and a ban, and should have earned him six licks of the birch. He then descended into the quicksand of severe mental breakdown. His post match interviews became like peering through the window of a Victorian asylum. Then came the dreaded vote of confidence in October. Then they lost at home to Bournemouth. By this time I began to chuckle like the laughing policeman all the way through Match of the Day. He was betrayed by players, who all despise him. Everyone does, after two seasons in his awful company.
As Mr. Windsor would have it, some years ago:
“He’s disconnected with reality and disrespectful. When you give success to stupid people it makes them more stupid sometimes and not more intelligent.”
If we come together as a league, we can do it. We can relegate Chelsea. The task will be harder now, but it can be done. What a shining, golden day for football that would be.