Well as the crowd poured out, I laughed my head off the last twenty minutes of that game. To celebrate the biggest pile of w*nk I’ve seen from a Chelsea side since the Emirates in September 2016, I’m going to write our match up in the style of a first class, grade A nappy sh*tter. But first …

In the News: The BBC are in the doghouse this week – not only because they’ve made a habit out of exploiting me, stealing my work and passing it off as their own, with less shame than Wilshere collecting a pay check every week, f*ck, less shame than GALLAS; but because of the sheer c*ntishness with which they shoved a microphone in Conte’s face and said: “You won’t catch City and you’ll probably lose to Barcelona.” We’ll all just go home then shall we, you Goon loving swine? And you can fill your air time with another soap opera set in the wrong end of London that consists of chavs going in and out of rooms shouting at each other. Still, it’s great that they get paid for that. And that Gary f*cking Lineker gets a seven figure salary out of the tax payer every year, even if I got precisely nothing.

I feel better now.

The BBC programme that we don’t name, on account of them being the second most skulduggerous of all their incarnations, did the draw for the FA Cup Fifth Round and threw up another round of uninspiring fixtures. We’ve got a home tie against Hull, for which mercifully I will be somewhere along the Nile looking at something more exciting. City go to Wigan, Sp*rs fans face the prospect of getting kicked into next season at Millwall, which should draw some viewers hoping to see them get stamped on, and the Red Scouse will be watching all of the above on television. Happy days.

Thank F*ck It’s Deadline Day: The Red Swarm can stop making sh*t up about transfers and go back to making sh*t up about everything else instead as of tomorrow.

As far as we are concerned:

Dzeko wouldn’t back down on personal terms that were a little silly so he stays in Rome. We bent some of the way, but he didn’t. There were a flurry of sh*t rumours about Llorente after this. But nope. That wasn’t going to happen. He made his bed in the summer and now he can lie in it, and watch his hopes of winning things disappear down the toilet like everyone else who signs for Sp*rs.

Finally the transfer circle jerk (ok, a triangle jerk) is complete on deadline day. Aubameyang has made the inexplicable choice to go and play for Whinger. Still, his lack of taste in everything from hairdos to sports cars is enough of an impediment in life, so let’s not judge him on a lack of ambition too harshly. Michy moves round to Dortmund to try and clock up enough minutes to make it to some international tournament I don’t give a sh*t about this summer, because I’ll be hiking in Montana, Wyoming, Utah and the Grand Canyon. If I wasn’t I’d be gauging my eyes out with a spoon before I put that on. It means we’re still on two strikers, a benevolent move on our part that is in his better interests as opposed to ours. And to complete the triangle jerk, we get Olivier Giroud. This is my stance: At least he jumps for headers. Please God let it be in his contract that he has to shave, because then I wouldn’t have to feel dirty perving at him like I did when he played for L’Arse before he grew that monstrosity on his face. He will do for me. Good option for route one. If nothing else is working, punt it up to the beard. My God we could have done with that tonight instead of flogging a horse so dead it had already been through a mincer and turned into dog food, which had then been eaten by a pitbull and shat out. Twice.

Our cunning plan of buying players that are broken and nobody else wants at the time also continues. Palmieri done, another left sided player for £17.5m. Pocket change if he turns out to be good. But Barkley is no longer broken, so we can forget about all that bizarre nonsense when he ran away halfway through the medical he was never going to pass in the summer.

In September there was much discussion about how we didn’t lack shiny awesome purchases, we needed players to build a squad, because we lacked numbers. I say this because we’ve just bought some squad players to boost our numbers and at the same time we’ve sent three senior players out on loan – as in Kenedy, Musonda and Batshuayi. Because that’s how we roll. We weren’t going to buy any of the shiny ones when there is a manager as volatile as a grenade with the pin pulled out at the helm threatening to leave every five minutes. Summer is when that kind of big business will happen. In theory.

Pretty much everything was done early in the day which meant that the media morons just had to start making stuff up to fill the gap till 11pm. Half an hour before kick off we and the Red Scouse were supposedly arguing over Isco. Real Madrid look almost as hilarious as us with the players they’ve got, why would they give any of them away and be worse off?

So with a lack of last minute action let’s ponder Pip Squeakiola. The douchiest douche this side of Douchville:

Monday, moans about not having as much money as everyone else despite spending more than any other team by a massive margin. To the tune of nearly half a billion pounds.

Wednesday morning, reported they’re going to break their transfer record and rinse another £60m on Laporte, who doesn’t even play for his country.

At £282 million City’s defence budget has now exceeded that of 52 countries.

If anyone could have found Mahrez and got him to sign for them they would have been on their way to £600m since the arrival of Baldy McDoucheface.

This coming from the man who reportedly said (the internet says it, and the internet never lies) in 2009:

“Modern football sometimes makes me sad. Nowadays there can be more focus on big name signings rather than promoting youth, and that makes me sad. I have grown up with the Barcelona method (let’s not get into the £150m for Coutinho) and I hope to stay true to for the whole of my career. Why buy a striker for £50m when there is one waiting in the youth team?” 

Smug, self-satisfied, spoiled, sanctimonious, superior f*cking hypocrite DOUCHE. You can argue stats at me till you run out of oxygen and drop dead at my feet like Charlie Adam trying to keep up with a game of football. Until this man wins something without infinite money at his disposal he ain’t nothing but one of the pack who is acting like a douchey slaphead fraud. If he’d have won the league with Mangala in the centre of his back line instead of selling him then I might have developed one small iota of respect for him. But do you know why I have to laugh? Because he and his prima donnas are still the least douchelike of all evils if we can’t win it.

Meanwhile Özil is like a bog-eyed Malouda, turning up a few weeks before his contract runs out and acting like he’s been earning a new one all along. There was something endearing about Malouda dancing to his song with sheer joy though. Not so with this bellend. Still, he had to sign with Wenger, nobody was going to put him on the same wages he’s been getting for his part time contract at Arsenal.

Best parting shot of the window? I like Giroud more already after he took a dig about how many trophies we’ve won of late compared to Arsenal, but I’ve got to give it to Mykhitaryan on leaving Chequebook Pulis:

“I’m looking forward to playing offensive football.” 

It’s a good job, because the Goons can literally only defend when they are playing us. In the words of Knobhead, my one Arsenal friend: Well chuffed with Aubameyang… he might just score enough to cover those the defence give away! That’s Wenger’s usual game plan! Said I. To which Knobhead replied: Don’t be fooled, he has NO PLAN!

The Others: So yes, Arsenal. The gift that keeps on giving. “There is no rational explanation” for how bad they were according to Whinger, but give him a break, because rationality has never been one of his strengths. And if we were terrible tonight we didn’t quite implode to the level of United. A large part of tonight’s entertainment for me, apart from Mowgli’s cleptomania, was text updates on this from my brother. I wish I’d been watching this instead. Sp*rs were ahead after ten seconds, which blew Chequebook Pulis’s game plan to sh*t because they couldn’t sit back and do nothing. Then Phil “Sloth from the Goonies” Jones scored such a world class OG that Paddy Power paid out on him as second goal scorer. Pogba got hooked, so did “Messi” Lingard. Then apparently CP threw Jazz Hands Fellaini on, only to drag him off again after four minutes. Still, at least that would have made Matic feel better about his twenty minute humiliation in similar circumstances. And somewhere in front of a TV Joe Cole fist-pumped too.

Right. Here I go. I’m strapped into my Pampers and ready to go with my alter ego – Peaky the Nappy Sh*tter… 

Us: I took one look at the team sheet and knew tonight was going to be a*se. And I knew it was going to be Gary Cahill’s fault. I can’t believe Giroud isn’t playing. What a lazy b*stard. And his beard is better than mine. Prick. Thibaut was in goal. I can believe he hasn’t signed his new contract. The board are sh*t. Bakayoko, brilliant. Now we’ll definitely lose. Alonso too – all he does is score free kicks, but what do you expect when he used to play for Sunderland? And Bolton. And Barkley? I can’t believe we’ve even bothered. Firstly, he’s a Scouser, and secondly, why would we want Everton’s rejects? No wonder we’re sh*t. If we don’t win a f*cking trophy this season I’m going to pimp slap Bruce Buck with my flat cap.

Them: How have they got half our players? Did I mention the board is sh*t? I can’t believe we let Nathan Ake leave. He’s going to be a world-beater and we just let him go like he’s a human being with his own free will. We’re pussies. We need to man up in the transfer market.

Straight away it was all Bournemouth. We should be p*ssing all over this lot. The fact that we weren’t three up in the first ten minutes, someone needs sacking. At least Hazard looked like he was up for it. Shame he’s going to leave us in the Summer for Madrid, along with Thibaut, because we can’t get anything done. Zappacosta came streaking in for a shot after Eden and Pesto (autospell, nearly as useless as Michy) did some tippy tappy sh*t in the box. Missed it though. There’s a surprise. As usual it was all down to Hazard, because everyone else is a jobber. I should have bought my boots with me tonight, I could have helped him out more than any of the dross out there. On 13 minutes he made one of his runs into the box and cut it back. Brilliant. Only get this, Pesto finally does some running and he runs too fast. Ball goes behind him. There’s some irony for you. I can’t remember the last time he did anything useful. We look like the f*cking away side. This was toss. And just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, Christensen went down injured. Why couldn’t it be Cahill? The only decent player we’ve got and he’s crocked. Rudiger came on to replace him. Joy, another sh*t signing from the board. I don’t understand why Roman doesn’t get rid of them all. We looked a bit better round about half an hour. As in we looked a bit more like Leicester instead of f*cking Stoke. Best chance of the game so far and it falls to Cahill. F*ck my life. Of course he misses it, over the bar, what’s he ever done for us? Alonso finally pulled his finger out just after that and put it high into the box for Hazard, who missed the header. It’s like his head is already in Madrid. If that’s the case he should just f*ck off there. Even Torres would have scored that. Barkley had a shot moments later but he never really got to line it up and it deflected off a defender and into Begovic’s arms. That was £15m well spent. On 38 minutes Alonso had a decent opening for a header, but he’s been sh*t ever since he grew his highlights out and so it went wide. Barkley is going to be blinding, on 40 minutes he slipped the ball through into one of the small people, probably Pesto, because Hazard has been sh*t for weeks. Lino called it offside – it was never offside. Blind. On 44 minutes SB (special alias) turned to me and said: “There you go, Rudiger completed a six yard pass. Write that in your thing. Init.”
I don’t know what happened at half time. Either everybody had a spliff in the dressing room or they’ve all decided that they can’t be a*sed with Conte and his moaning anymore, or the board, or the sh*t they see coming in the door and they just rolled over. We almost scored on 49, then some bloke called Callum Wilson who I’ve never heard of went up the other end and scored. THIS IS BOURNEMOUTH. WHAT ARE WE DOING? Hazard almost equalised straight away, thank God for him, maybe we’d get back in this. Hallelujah, Barkley’s going off for Fabregas. But by 57 minutes we’d turned into those bellends that cheer every time they win a f*cking corner. We are actually Arsenal. I might as well have brought a picnic basket full of crayfish and rocket paninis and my nan’s knitting to sit through this sh*t.

0-2 Who is Junior Stanislas? Stupid name. I didn’t see it, because I was too busy complaining about the ref, but it was blatantly Cahill’s fault. Then they got another one. It was basically going nowhere and then bounced in off Ake’s nut sack. 0-3 down at home to f*cking BOURNEMOUTH. I said we shouldn’t have sold him. Alonso hit one just wide on 69. He can’t hit a cow’s a*se with a banjo. We deserve some kind of trophy for making this lot look like Barcelona, it’ll be the only trophy we win this year. Finally, it looked like there was some urgency about the team, but typically they’d left it to the last minute. They’re just taking the p*ss out of us now, singing “you dirty northern b*stards” at us because Fabregas has tried to break someone’s legs. I wish he’d signed for Arsenal again. He’s been sh*t for us. Eight of us defending the box, three of them attacking and they still almost scored a fourth. Now they’re singing “Nathan Ake, he left cos you’re shit.” Aren’t we just. City are laughing at us. Everyone is laughing at us. Team was sh*t, Conte is sh*t, the board are even sh*tter, Watford is going to be sh*t and you’re all sh*t n’all. F*ck it. I’m going home.

So: Nappy sh*tting aside, that was like a really awful first date that’s so bad that you have to go to the loo and call a mate to laugh about what a dick the guy is. It was like another generic sh*t Liam Neeson vengeful action thriller that you only sit through because you can laugh at bad it was. If Conte comes out and says he just focuses on the players and the next game after that I will laugh my head off. Because if more than five minutes thought went into that I will eat Mowgli’s cap. The first half wasn’t great, but it wasn’t shocking. What happened in the second half, God only knows. The whole Chelsea side appeared to leave the building at half time. You knew the sh*t was hitting the fan when Barkley got yanked for Cesc on 50 odd minutes. Conte never makes early subs. Barkley had had a shocker to be fair – as in he played for Everton, who wear blue, and now he plays for us, and we wear blue; but he couldn’t find anything but a red shirt. Still, it’s his first start, he’ll get into the swing of things and he was far from the only culprit. And the lack of any established striker was glaring. Over and over again the ball was played into the box and there was nobody in there. Basically, it was a 45 minute shambles on our part. We had some reasonable attempts at goal tonight, and didn’t take any of them. Bournemouth, on the other hand, defended well, pressed us all night long and enjoyed good fortune too. I ask you this. Is it remotely possible that the angst between the board and the manager, which results in the manager constantly implying he doesn’t have a proper squad, is NOT going to eventually start to show on the pitch? If your manager is clearly miserable with what he’s got, are they going to believe in themselves? This is an interesting concept – and far less terrifying than this: If we don’t fix this in the next 20 days is it possible that we are going to get out the other side of two games against Uefalona, one against United and one against City without conceding twenty odd goals? I’ll finish on the one high note in this clusterf*ck before your heads explode. Hudson-Odoi take a bow. This game looked like the video to Thriller – a horror show. But he was Michael Jackson.