Chelsea Season Review: Like Watching Your Favourite Auntie Go Senile

Despite Spurs giving us hope that we could win the title, Chelsea have gone backwards and sacked the man who won the double in his first season. Here we go again...
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Despite Spurs giving us hope that we could win the title, Chelsea have gone backwards and sacked the man who won the double in his first season. Here we go again...

Despite Spurs giving us hope that we could win the title, Chelsea have gone backwards and sacked the man who won the double in his first season. Here we go again...

The ‘I f*cking love this game’ highlight of the season?

Beating Tottenham thanks to two utterly scandalous goals. There is no better feeling then winning a game with one of your principle rivals in such an outrageously undeserved manner; and it gave us a week of thinking we might actually win the title. Cheers, Spurs!

The season ticket shredding moment?

Well, I don’t have a season ticket any more, but in the event of me a) moving back to England and b) being able to afford one, I would probably have been melting down the plastic on hearing of Ray Wilkins sacking, then tipping it into the water supply on seeing us spend £50million on an injury-prone busted flush of a striker. If we get Harry Redknapp as Chelsea manager I’ll personally s**t in Ron Gourlay’s morning coffee.

Moment that just about summed it all up?

Getting dumped on by Manchester United in May’s title decider, which made Chelsea look like what we were for most of the season – second best.

Got the right manager?

I’ll get back to you on that one.

Player of the season?

John Terry, by an absolute mile. Which says a lot given he’s half the player he was three or four years ago.

Muppet of the season?

Ashley Cole, although you could call him the muppet for all seasons. What on earth possessed him to shoot a work experience boy, for a laugh, I’ll never know: presumably the club thought the image they were projecting was too squeaky clean and proffered him an air rifle in the hope he’d give us a more Rock ‘N’ Roll image.

I hope Stamford Bridge is empty for all the Champions League group games next season: at £40 a ticket it bl****y well should be.

What would you change next term if you were the gaffer?

Nothing: I’d sit my contract out with an ageing squad, roll with the punches as the Chelsea players get caught with their c***s up married women/assaulting disabled children/abusing Holocaust survivors and then take a juicy fat pay-off as soon as it dawns on them that I’m incapable of taking the team to Champions League glory. I will however wear nice suits and be charming to the press.

Which player would you like to sign?

Let’s sign an ageing icon, preferably from a big important club which has lots of supporters in the media, for vast sums of money, safe in the knowledge that we will never recoup any of it back – someone like Steven Gerrard. I feel that a change of tack would do Chelsea good.

Best goal?

Alex’s thumping 30-yard free-kick against Arsenal way back in the autumn. That feels like a very long time ago now.

Football’s biggest tosser?

Anyone who plays for, manages, supports, or is connected – even in the tiniest way, like the postman who delivers to Arsene Wenger’s house – with Arsenal.

Player’s tweet of the season?

The only thing interesting about the few players who have accounts (and I’d be surprised if the club hasn’t told certain players to stay well away from social media, frankly) is how self-absorbed they are. Nicolas Anelka’s sparse tweet timeline, for instance, is a prime example of football player solipsism.

Most inspired chant?

Don’t be silly.

Best laugh you had all season?

West Ham.

How do you plan to get through the summer without football?

Can’t f**king wait, truth be told: this season has been like watching your favourite auntie slowly come down with Alzheimer’s. Losing 3-0 against Sunderland was the moment she first pours you a cup of tea with cold water; then she starts forgetting your name, and where she lives; April and May was the last blast of clear-headed lucidity, in which she reveals that she had to put her first born into an orphanage, after an ill-advised affair with a black American G.I. Grim times all round.

Any other news?

I hope Stamford Bridge is empty for all the Champions League group games next season: at £40 a ticket it bl****y well should be.

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