As if readjusting to the temperature at home wasn’t terrifying enough. Chelsea created a neanderthal photo mash in tonight’s programme of Ampadu, Cahill and The Beard. Still looked more intelligent as a life form than anything playing for West Ham tonight.

Everton 2 Chelsea 0: The less said about this pile of sh*t the better.

Cardiff City 1 Chelsea 2: Herewith my live tweeting from a beach bar in southern Thailand:

It’s Sunday night here in Thailand. I’m going to attempt to blog live from @TJsKrabi Until my battery dies anyway. My reaction to the team news has been to order another drink.

These socks are a travesty and deserve to be punished. This is not a good start.

Dwight the travelling bear has collapsed after two minutes. This does not bode well if he’s bored already.

Who is number 17 for Cardiff? When you look like a wildling extra from #GoT you shouldn’t go down like a fanny.

11 mins. Leave it to Pedro Unicorn to give me hope.

Rudi. I love you. But please don’t ever shoot again. The ball just rolled into Krabi and past the bar.

There was less advantage to be had there than if Harry F*cking Kane took on @carolvorders in a math-off. This referee is a moron. 

There are octogenarians around the corner in the red light district with a more dynamic finish than we’ve had in the opening half an hour.

We’re making Cardiff look good. Not only are Cardiff terrible, but they are managed by a someone who predates dinosaurs. And they’re Welsh. This is skinny kids who couldn’t make with the egg chasing and were cast out by their leek-munching brethren.

I experienced less pain than this this afternoon when I was stung by a bit of rogue jellyfish. 

Willian going down easier than a PatPong superstar. Difference is the girls will deserve their money at the end of tonight. Must do better.

Hazard’s face says: I’m going to need at least a fucking half pounder after sitting through this shit. With extra cheese.

Not beating the Welsh at football would be like me climbing up on a table in Bangkok and firing a ping pong ball out of my moo-moo in front of 11 stalwart veterans with enough velocity to take someone’s eye out. Just rude.

Cardiff 1. Chelsea 0.

I’m going to go to the toilets and cry.

Cardiff 1 United 5 
Cardiff 0 Sp*rs 3
Cardiff 0 City 5
And then there’s us.

Right now I wish that Jellyfish at Poda Island had finished me off.

That free kick sums up the utter arse I’ve seen so far.

Ruben’s incoming message: “I don’t know what the fuck he’s going on about with the notepad and the clipboard. Let’s just pretend he’s not there and try and score a goal.”

Seven defenders versus three in the box. When we’re losing. So what’s the plan? Hope we change the habit of a lifetime and take a decent corner?

Every #CFC performance I watch at the moment where we fail by doing exactly the same thing is like I’m Charlton Heston reliving the end of Planet of the Apes where he finds the Statue of Liberty on repeat

I am officially conceding my crown for the least subtle resting bitch face to Callum Hudson-Odoi.

Cardiff 1 Chelsea 1

We are less offside than @CesarAzpi and we’re in the Far East. Oh well.

Watching Neil Warnock combust might be more worth it than the point at this stage. 

Cardiff 1 Chelsea 2

I’m just going to roll over and die laughing at Warnock’s expense. After the rest of injury time because we can’t be trusted.

Ross is off to dig a hole with his bare hands and climb in it after that miss.

Babies make me cringe. But if Craig Pawson rocks up in Krabi tomorrow and demands to impregnate me. I will let him.

Could only have been sweeter if in the act of having a giant bitch baby fit the winning goal had gone in off of Warnock’s massive beak.

This is no way makes up for 85 minutes of the most turgid shit football I have seen since… well, the last time Chelsea played. Let off the hook there Sarri. 

Please note that Rubens’s plan worked.

Only side ever to have scored an offside goal in the league, judging by planet football’s reaction.

Chelsea 3 Brighton & Hove Albion 0: Hurrah. A drama free waltz to victory, finally starts in the league for Ruben and CHO.

In the News: Hazard is practically off already. Devastating. That said, anyone calling him a traitor or slagging him off needs to give their f*cking head a wobble. People want Sarri to be off. Jesus. Everyone is entitled to their opinion but if you can’t actually defend it then you might want to turn the volume down. Elements of CFC Fan TV are doing the equivalent of a Mel Gibson in South Park when he goes batsh*t crazy and runs round dressed up as Braveheart, shitting on people’s car bonnets and shouting KABLAM! That said, the revelation that the manager couldn’t be bothered to watch a player’s England debut, a full debut, happening at 18, is piss poor. Do I love this manager? Not right now. Have I wanted to club him like an errant baby seal (disclaimer: I love baby seals) throughout this season? Yes. But I sat on the Fancast and advocated the idea of bringing in less of a drama queen, high flying manager who behaved like a brat and taking a punt on someone else lower down the pecking order. The club did this. Would he have been my choice? Nope, (Eddie Howe!) but I kind of think in this scenario I have to accept that it might take longer to get this bloke going than some of the previous, short-lived incumbents. For that reason, though I have no problem being pissed off with him when he shows all the movability of Sam Allardyce at a buffet table, I’m not going to sit here and demand he gets the sack. If he gets us into the Champions League I will write this season off and accept that it sure weren’t pretty, but he got us over the line. But I will expect much better next time out. Right now I don’t know how I’ll feel if we don’t make it. In the meantime I don’t see the point in screaming hysterically about how much I hate him and making a tit of myself.

Let’s have my favourite Press Pleb nonsense in a nutshell from while I’ve been away. Paul Scholes was never going to last at Oldham. They had no coffee machine. Well OK then. Kepa to Real: Apparently they’ve given up on De Gea and want to give us £50m for a player we paid £70m for less than a year ago. Good luck with that. United want CHO. Good luck with that, too. Even funnier, they are considering a bid for Zaha. And Pogba apparently thinks he is worth £500k a week. Which is what, nearly Hazard and Kante put together? Dickhead. And Courtois set to be axed by Zidane. Ahahahahahahaha. As long as we aren’t stupid enough to buy him back. That would be a f*cking disaster. We wont need him anyway, we’ve got Rob Green.

The press appear to have noticed that all racism in football does not emanate from Stamford Bridge. Shocker. So far as the England game is concerned, I’m with the “should have walked off the pitch” camp. If the governing body of whoever I was employed by refused to take proper action and it was me being racially abused, I would refuse to work until they did, and I would expect everyone to back me. We’ve had more of it since on the domestic front. Chelsea have offered CHO counselling after this deplorable chain of events in the Balkans. While this is laudable, I think the perpetrators are more in need of having a professional dig around inside their head. Apparently, no English footballing body keeps an official record of racism issues as and when they arise. What the f*ck? Danny Rose says he has five or six years left in the world of football and he can’t wait to see the back of it. That’s sad. But I think weak. I’ve been racially abused aplenty, and it only makes me more determined to rub their faces in what I can do. And as it’s him, I feel that although this is a very serious subject, and nobody should be subjected to this abuse, I’d be remiss if I didn’t say that I can’t wait to see he back of he diving little f*cker either. Also in the world of arseholes thinking that its ok to say and do whatever they want to someone they have seen on television, there are whispers that this new influx of pitch invaders trying to get at players could be dealt with by specialist taser stewards, who would get to zap the b*stards as soon as they set foot out of the stands in that direction. Perfect.

The Others: City are still just about on course to save humanity from a Scouse title win. Ole says United will be back winning the league. As they drop to sixth. It would be amusing if he started to believe his own press. The Goons have slipped up. Brilliantly, they have the second worst away form IN THE COUNTRY. We’re probably first. Urgh and I’m glad that I was on the other side of the planet when Sp*rs finally moved into Wait Hart Lane. Resplendent with West Ham and Chelsea memorabilia under the floors and in the walls. They have an on site sommelier but no cheese room. Cutbacks. Peasants. Bet they don’t have f*cking pic ’n’ mix on tap either. Huddersfield are down, equalling Derby’s lamentable record for the worst ever season. And they aren’t even lumbered with Robbie Savage. Sadly, Fulham have gone too, despite spending a fortune last summer.

Us: CHO gets a second start, Loftus-Cheek too. Pedro Pony, Willian presumably being saved for Thursday. Either that or Sarri has had a sudden epiphany about pissing off our youth products and how not to do it.

Them: Meh. Usual combination of thugs at the back and has beens/never weres elsewhere. And of course Donkey Carroll in injured.

Naturally the game began with a huge rendition of Franky Lampard scoring 200 against the pikeys. In the meantime they were singing about us having no history. Right. Great play between Higuain and Hazard after ten minutes set the Belgian off and running. Noble was forced to take a card rather than be left for dust as Eden walked it into the net. You’d think that that might have humbled him, and shut him up, for once; but he continued to bitch and whine his way through the game like a twelve year old denied WiFi. The ensuing free kick was claimed by Emerson, and it wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t quite on target either. Just over by Kante after he carved a path through their defence on 16. Watching Ogbonna in their defence is like watching a walkman run out of battery. He’s so f*cking big that by the time his brain sends a message to his legs to move, the game has moved on fifteen yards. It wasn’t just him. Every time we picked up the pace and started flicking the ball about, they were completely dumbfounded. Last night was marked by controversy. See I’ve been told that this Hudson-Odoi song is to Buffalo Soldier. Which seems perfectly plausible. Some wrong’uns from the Matthew Harding end are banging on about Banana Splits. On the basis that bananas are sick and wrong I’m sticking with the Shed on this one. In the opening spell West Ham had contributed nothing but a general smell of body odour in the away end to events at Stamford Bridge. A great forward run by Dave on 21, slicing through them like Sam Allardyce pawing at a Meat Feast pizza. Their confusion was telling, even more so a couple of minutes later when Hazard took out six of them AND their keeper on his way to a sublime goal. I’m going to miss him so much. 1-0. If they were baffled before, they were brain dead now.

So this is us. Get the goal. Then utterly fail to progress on and leave ourselves scrabbling around desperately trying to make sure of the points. 25 Higuain almost squeezed one in, 28 CHO was away but he couldn’t quite find Higuain in the box. Penalty shout straight after. Stone. Wall. But after Cardiff we are never, ever going to get the benefit of the doubt again. Ever. Plus the referee was a knob. 32 CHO was trying to chip the keeper from an impossible angle, Eden was still buzzing round like a wasp at a picnic. They’d barely been out of their own half and yet we only had one goal to show for ripping them a new arsehole for more than half an hour.

Is this the library – they sang. Ironically considering we hadn’t heard a peep out of them for nearly 20 minutes. How the f*ck would you know? Have any of them ever used a book for anything but a doorstop? 40 and Hudson-Odoi was off again, up against two defenders alone and forcing a fingertip save. How the ball stayed out of net on the corner that followed not even Hawking could have explained. 42 it had to be two, but for some reason instead of just heading the ball, Higuain tried to bring it down first. Explanation from a wit behind me? He didn’t want to lose any more hair. So 1-0 it was at the break. If I took Eden Hazard to my mum’s Slimming World meeting and let him run at them, he would have faced more opposition than he did from West Ham tonight. They could. Not. Touch him.

West Ham late out after the break. Presumably still punch drunk after the first half. Little Pea(nis) had gone off, having not touched the ball. Replaced by Snodgrass. Verily did we tremble. We picked up where we left off. Squandering chances. On 47 minutes the ball flew across the face of goal. We were nearly outdone by our own stupidity early on. Thank the lord for Kepa and Toni Rudiger. And for the fact that Arnautovic hasn’t got two half dead brain cells to rub together. Thankfully this was a very rare occurrence. Moments later, Ruben almost went it in to double the lead after Dave thieved the ball off them like he was one of their own. Another shot from Loftus-Cheek bent wide on 56, before he wrestled forward to oversee another effort that flew at the keepers hands. But sadly they had got the whiff of an equaliser now. Ever did West Ham like the idea of getting something for nothing. Like their stadium. We were just asking for trouble by not getting a second and for doing silly things like ignoring Arnautovic and his multi-coloured meathead in the box on set plays. If it wasn’t for Rudi, we would not have still been winning this game.

They tried to shake it up. Noble finally f*cked off and spared us any more of his moaning. Replaced by some other bloke. Ruben off at the same time for Barkley. On 73 Hazard drew a foul on the edge of the area. Please god let this be it. Barkley wanted it, so did Luiz, Emerson hovered about a bit for effect too. Sideshow clumped it. Straight at the wall. Not his finest hour tonight. Actually, in Churchill terms (the fat bloke with the cigar, not me) not only was it not his Battle of Britain moment, consider him a lonely, soggy little ammunition pouch left on the beach at Dunkirk.

Higuain off for The Beard with fifteen to go. In the meantime Hazard had taken one to the nuts so painful that his eyes were visibly watering on Sky apparently. Good job he’s already got half a dozen kids. Barkley nearly went the same way trying to slide in in the box, but saw the goalpost coming at the last. Refwatch: Chris Kavanaugh. F*ck knows where they have dredged him up from. My guess is somewhere where a thumping attendance just about reaches double figures and his mum hands out chunks of orange at half time. Hasn’t mastered what a penalty is, or the offside rule. So I suppose if you were looking for a silver lining, he’s on a level with half the other dickheads overseeing the Premier League already.

There was a baffling moment on 82 minutes when it looked like they had scored, but they hadn’t, but we all thought they had, and they thought they had. For what seemed like an eternity, you could have heard a pin drop, until we all started laughing hysterically at them. F*ck sake Chelsea. Kepa got booked for time wasting, and our response was to waste even more time by changing CHO for Pedro Pony. The ball was on the roof of the net on 85. We were making so much of a meal out of this that Henry VIII couldn’t have f*cking swallowed it. The frustration was palpable. Luiz’s expression every time Kepa did the wavy hand action to send him and Rudi up the pitch on a goal kick was priceless. (12 year old, WiFi) Across the face of goal on 88. Mother of god can we just finish this? Gloriously, a minute later Barkley ignored every fan in the ground screaming at him to shoot. Instead he played it in to Eden who, despite having been effectively castrated, made it two and secured the points. Thank you baby Jesus.

So: You’re not West Ham anymore, we sang. But I beg to differ. Toothless, ‘orrible, and sh*t. Looked like West Ham to me. I’d argue that Rudiger was as crucial as Eden Hazard tonight. He was intrepid at the back throughout. Up to third we go, with some proper daylight between us and United now; though we’ve had an extra game played over the rivals for the CL spots. Attentions turn to Europe, and a much coveted trip to Azerbaijan. (I’m not joking – Baku was WW1 memorials) With luck the club have worked out exactly who we are actually playing in Prague by now.