"Top of the league, Ma !"

"Christmas is a time of goodwill to all men." Whoever said that wants his fucking head examining. I was queuing up for a Bovril in the South Stand on Saturday before the match, when a lout masquerading as a Chelsea supporter barged past me to get to the front. Not a major problem, I grant you, but when I pointed out to this bloke that there was a queue, the moron turned round and just glared at me uncomprehendingly at first. Then, stupidly taking my complaint as a challenge, he started to mouth off like the gobby little toerag that he was, spectacularly confirming a lack of any intelligence whatsoever..

Now get this: his line of argument was that he hadn't noticed that there was a queue (unsurprising, given that his entire brain capacity had been reserved to enable him to walk), and that because I was a "newcomer", he had preference anyway. At this point his two neanderthal mates chipped in with their two bob's worth, agreeing with the first moron that I was a "newcomer". Needless to say I stood my ground and asked them what they meant by newcomer, and why they reckoned I was in that category, albeit using slightly more robust language. The best bit is coming now, please stay with me. The third moron said: "Because I haven't fucking seen you round here before, that's why." I ask you, have you ever heard anything more cretinous ?

When I'd finished laughing I thought it'd be fun to pursue their line of "logic", so I told them that I hadn't noticed them standing in the Shed in October 1965 (the first match I went to, as an eight year-old) either, probably due to the fact that all three of the cunts hadn't been born at the time. I also informed them that they were bloody lucky to have been born at all, given the odds against their fathers' ever having had sex with anything but their right hands. They seemed fairly impressed by this line of reasoning, judging by the fact that all three of them invited me outside the ground to talk about it in more detail.

I told them I'd meet them outside in five minutes, and went and sat down just in time for the kickoff. This is the sort of thing you're up against when you bump into people who clearly have no more than three brain cells.

Back to the business in hand. We were surprised to see Luca pick himself for this game, having thought that Flo would start with Zola up front, but we weren't too unhappy to see him. Still no Desailly or Le Saux, but with Duberry, Lambourde and Ferrer playing so well it didn't matter that much, plus Beefy was back. Di Matteo was also missing, and of course Den is now sidelined till well after Christmas. Jody Morris got a start, which was nice to see, and had his usual lively game. Width was supposedly provided by Super Dan and Baba, but I didn't think we used the width of the pitch as much as we could, or should have done, not that I'm blaming Petrescu or Baba. Le Saux could have made the difference, who knows ?

From the moment the game kicked off it was plain that George Graham and his mob had come for a draw. I won't waste too many words describing what was a pretty drab match, as for me the only interest in the game was the seamless display of appalling refereeing and linesmanning. In a world chock full of bad refereeing, this game was a shining example. The only good decision in the entire match was the sending off of Armstrong, which was what saved the game from a frustrating 0-0 draw.

The game never stood a chance: on the one hand you had a referee who had clearly swallowed his fucking pea, and on the other you had George Graham's coaching policy, which appears to consist solely of getting his players to stop their opposite number from playing any sort of football at all. Thanks a lot, and a very merry fucking Christmas, George.

Luckily Chelsea didn't allow Rottenham's spoiling tactics to get them down, and they ground away until the inevitable happened and Poyet stuck the ball away with ten minutes to go. Graham had previously responded to Armstrong's sending off by removing Spurs' only player worth watching, Ginola, and sticking on another faceless defender. Fat lot of good it did, and he compounded the misery by replacing Andy Sinton with Justin Edinburgh, which brought a great cheer from us, as the game was now obviously won - Edinburgh has to be the worst defender in the league, bar none.

Sure enough, Chelsea put the icing on the Christmas cake with a diving header from super-sub Flo, who'd come on for Zola with twenty minutes to go. It was no more than we deserved, to use a hackneyed phrase. Needless to say we went absolutely mental, especially when we heard that Boro were 3-0 up at Old Trafford. We realised that we were top of the league, and the party started on the terraces, sorry, stands. Just as well, there wasn't much joy to be had from the match apart from the goals.

Chelsea did well to beat Tottenham, what with the Graham factor, and I suppose I'd have done the same if I'd been in his position (heaven forbid), but it's taking the piss out of the fans to deliberately try to kill the game like that. To quote from a well known song: "You can stick George Graham up your arse".

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