Bloody Lovely Stuff

One of the reasons I stopped blogging a while back was coz even when he was out of a job all people talked about was Jose Mourinho. This is partly coz he manages to draw attention to himself like a pissed aunty at a funeral. Constantly saying inappropriate things, slating the officials, undermining the bride, saying the bridesmaids are just not up to snuff. (Well that was my Aunty Pat, any road.)

There was a time when this tactic was a way of drawing the fire away from his team and creating a bunker mentality to help the players thrive. Nowadays, he seems to take a misfiring first eleven to be a personal slight. That might seem like paranoia but in the case of his last half season at Chelsea, I think it was justifiable paranoia.

You only have to look at Conte's Chelsea, featuring the same players by and large that Jose left behind, to realise that the boys in blue just didn't give a shit for the Special One. Costa's back to his rollicking best, Hazard is twinkling around like a footballing Tinkerbell, and the back three look as unbreakable as the skull of a Trump supporter.

Meanwhile United are still a scatter-brained blend of the overpaid and the barely worthwhile. One League Cup win over Manchester City's B-team and a victory over a Swans team that played like cygnets hasn't changed that. Moyes, Van Gaal and Mourinho have all tried and failed to instil some sort of pattern and belief on a struggling club. And frankly I'm quite pleased. United fans might get snarky, but as it says in the song 'if I hadn't seen such riches I could live with being poor.' In other words, Sit Down next to me (A Boro fan) Stretford Enders.

Having said that, a Boro fan is more likely to witness a point being won at the Etihad. Last Tuesday, Citeh had a night which some people seem to think has changed the world of football for ever. It's as if a late middle-aged woman had finally discovered the female orgasm. The result Citeh have been waiting for. Yes, and... They're still going to finish second in their group and go out to Bayern Munich in the last 16.

Apart from flickers of brilliance up front, Citeh still can't put teams away. They're like me getting home from the boozer and trying to find the wastepaper basket with an empty crisp packet. Even leaning over the bloody thing I can still tweak it wide. Sterling fills me with least confidence in front of goal - I doubt he can find the bowl with his piss even if he were sat down - but his form elsewhere has been terrific and Guardiola deserves much credit for reviving the lad after a desperate summer.

Nevertheless the back four, with Kompany's absence throwing a long shadow over it, has a brittle look about it, Pep likes a ball-playing goalkeeper and I do too so lng as it's cos the bloke's got his hand down his shorts cos he's got bugger-all else to do - come on we've all done it. Citeh's title chances, as has been the case for a few seasons, rather depend on whether Aguero's chunky little legs don't keep falling away like slow-cooked lamb off the bone.

And I haven't mentioned Arsenal. It's not unusual for Wenger's team to have a good start. Arsenal are like delicate summer blooms which flower long into November, only for winter's icy blast to bring them withering to the ground. In other words, they don't like it up 'em, whether that be a sadistic centre-back or a strong north-easterly.

That being said, Mesut Ozil is making kicking a football about into the sort of them fecking rhythmic gymnasts could only dream of. The goal to see off Ludogarets was so sublime that Darcey Bussell is dancing it at Sadlers Wells next week. Ozil is the Federer of footy. When he's on the ball, he looks like he's got more time than the planet itself has. He's left more goggle-eyed this season than he is.

As for Liverpool, well, they're shining as bright as a Klopp grin. I haven't purred so much about a Koppite eleven since the days of Barnes and Beardsley. Really bloody lovely stuff. The way they knock it around between the front four - well, it's just a shame Andy Carroll's not there to finish it off, isn't it? Yep. That's what was happening not very long ago.

But it's been a happily hard to predict beginning to the post-fact Premier League. The current champions are Leicester City. It's worth repeating this as fact every now and then, just to underline that it's not some neutral's blissful dream - a kind of counterbalance to the dark nightmares of Brexit, President Trump or West Ham's stewarding at home games - but an actual fact.

I was pretty much dreading a return to the grim days of Chelsea/Citeh/United dominance. But no. It's been a pretty bleeding wonderful start to the season. Entertainment galore and in Hazard, Ozil and Coutinho (with Sanchez, Firmino and Costa not far behind) we are getting to see some top players at the peak of their powers.

Mourinho aside, I'm enjoying it again.