Scouting Report: Chelsea FC

Formed in 2003, with a massed wealth stolen from the blooded lips of Russian proletariat, Chelsea Football Club adorn the Premier League like Juan Cuadrado's hair. It may be on top, but you wouldn't want to swap.

Like Roman Abramovich, Cuadrado's fringe is quite crooked

It may seem churlish to overtly criticise the actions of such a callow club, with so little history and experience behind them, but every Chelsea mother knows that only sustained and vicious criticism can bully a child into the anorexic and shrill-voiced ideal. Chelsea's juvenile missteps have been legion, and as the cast of Made in Chelsea experienced first-hand, the best education entails a certain amount of buggery. So let us unbuckle our belts, unzip our flies, and teach them a Lesson.

Chelsea Football Club, you stand accused of arrogance, of racial hatred, of the worst kind of vulgar and wasteful excess. There will be no opportunity to plead. We will show you no mercy, as you have shown none to the dead babies of Russia, their jaundiced jaws clamped to the withered breasts of emaciated mothers. Do you care how they suffer? You do not. So long as their poverty and deprivation continues to finance the diamond-encrusted clitoral clamps of your piggish Chelsea Wags, you couldn't give a fuck.

Chelsea vs Arrogance

There can be no more definite example of unchecked arrogance in recent, if not all football history, than in 2012, when Chelsea Football Club considered it appropriate to win the Champions League, whilst retaining Roberto Di Matteo as manager. Roberto Di Matteo! They could not have shown more contempt for this venerable competition, had they collectively pissed in the trophy and given Michel Platini a typical French bath. It is akin to Lewis Hamilton winning the Monaco Grand Prix with the parking brake engaged, and the only thing worse, is that they were but one hilarious John Terry slip from doing the exact same thing in 2008, with Avram fucking Grant.

Chelsea vs Racial Hatred

It is my opinion, or if it's not I'm going to pretend it is, for the purpose of this essay, that the normal human condition is to think well of ourselves, and meanly of others. Every point of variance that divides a stranger from our own beloved person, is a mark of antipathy. The cut of their hair, the extravagance of their waistline, the colour of their skin, their preferred brand of washing powder, are all to be despised, insofar as they differ from our own. But it's somehow much worse when Chelsea do it.

Few can have overlooked the recent scandal, when Chelsea didn't allow their black players into train. That was pretty bad! Black people have as much right to train as white people, and it is no longer acceptable to treat them as if they were French. Even if they are.

Also, is there any other club who would employ a Spanish immigrant, and openly call him Dago?

These are just two examples, picked from a host of villainy, and though the facts may be wrong, though it may have been onto train rather than into train, and they may call him Diego rather than Dago, this does not devalue my argument in the slightest. The use of stereotypes, and the practice of judging a wide body of people based purely on one common flaw, is completely deplorable, and I wish to go on record that every Chelsea supporter, every man, woman and child who has even so much as smelt Stamford Bridge, are scum, and ought to be dragged out onto the Fulham Road and burned alive.

Chelsea vs Vulgar and Wasteful Excess

Player Bro-Files

John Terry

Sit on it. Go on. Your wife did.

Do you ever wonder how people come to have surnames? It's quite simple: you get it from your dad. If your father owns a coffee shop, then your surname is Costa; if he had a breakdown, and got done for flashing, your surname is Hazard. If you are born a bastard, and your mother is so slack she can only remember your father's first name, then his first name, becomes your last.

John Terry is the captain of Chelsea Football Club, in the same way that Hitler was the captain of Germany. He is the mortal embodiment of their ideals. The most arrogant, racist and vulgar man at the club, which is like being the biggest cunt in the England National Football Team. Which he also achieved.

This is his favourite road sign:

Humped Bridge

Verdict: Bro. For all his faults, he does, at the very least, hate Rio Ferdinand.

Top Wag

Even though Carry on Doctor is my favourite film of all time, I'm going to give Eva Carniero a pass, this time. Seeing tits on a football field is no longer the novelty it once was. I saw three thousand at Villa Park only yesterday. Let us instead take a close look at Michele Zuanne:

Until recently, Michele had been assuming the position of a Premier League defence, and I doubt that being ruthlessly penetrated by Dago Costa is any more fun in reality, than it is on Match of the Day. The relationship ended, by her account, when she caught Dago offside with her sister. Imagine that! This will help:

It seems that Dago betrayed duty and honour, and tried to score with a slightly less celebrated equivalent, only to find, when the big event came, that he couldn't perform.

But that's enough about the World Cup.