A Chelsea team that to all appearances stopped playing for the Special One this season, are now on an unbeaten run we will do well to halt.

You might suggest the difference is down to the gaffer. Bollocks. Mourinho’s men (or should that be mendacious mice?) decided they no longer wanted to be guided by the multi-award winning manager. To say they were not responsible for the shockingly inept attempt to defend the Premier League title they won last May is akin to saying John Terry was not responsible for costing his club a Champions League triumph when he blazed that penalty wide of the net in 2008.

I laughed almost as much as when he photobombed the final four years later.

Remember, the obnoxious oaf had been suspended because of a petulant foul in the semi-final but still managed to be the centre of attention on Chelsea’s greatest night while contributing absolutely zilch. And did he understand why he was lampooned?

Not if this interview with The Daily Telegraph is to be believed…

“Because it’s me, people look and say ‘he’s not won it’, people like to have their digs and their pops, but I know I played a huge part along the way, in the dressing room and on the field as well, so I count myself to have won it. No one speaks about the other 10 players who weren’t on the pitch that night as well.”

Perhaps, dear heart, that’s because not one of those other 10 players would have had the blatant gall to hog the limelight after letting down their teammates. Not one would have put on his kit, including boots and shinpads, then collected the trophy. Note that Raul Meireles, Ramires and Branislav Ivanovic were also banned from taking part because of yellow cards. Did any of them gatecrash the celebrations?

I have to plead guilty to enjoying my digs and my pops. Let’s just say Terry would have been rightly vilified if Chelsea had lost the semi-final against Barcelona once he was sent off. No doubt he would have accused the football world of persecuting him. The man’s grasp on reality is as steady as his standing foot in that memorable 2008 shootout.

This is what he told the Telegraph when discussing those two finals:

“The biggest night ever for the club [2012] and I didn’t play in it. But I played in one [final in 2008], and I felt a massive part of it [in 2012].”

Yes, you played in one final . . . and fell flat on your arse when given the chance to score the decisive penalty. JT Legend.

Jealousy is an unpleasant emotion and perhaps I envy his success. The countless millions he has been paid, the almost tiresome praise, the blind eye that has been turned to his less-than-attractive character traits.

But perhaps not. If I were as conceited, blinkered and bombastic as JT Legend I would be spinning in my grave, having died of shame years ago.

So that’s what we are up against today. The JT Legend persecution complex is back with a vengeance, this time because the club he has served so loyally (while rewarding him with riches beyond belief) appear unwilling to extend his stay beyond May. Pardon me for not shedding a tear on his behalf or signing a petition to save the Stamford Bridge One. He has nothing in prospect next season other than another massive deal with another gullible employer.

One of my happiest memories of Upton Park (call it the Boleyn if you like) is seeing Nigel Winterburn, long past his sell-by date, floundering in his attempts to keep pace with, among others, Shola Ameobi. The moment was made even sweeter when I recalled the way Winterburn and his revolting Arsenal buddy Lee Dixon had kicked David Ginola mercilessly in a League Cup cup tie at Highbury in January 1996.

They say what goes around, comes around.

My perfect day: three points at Stamford Bridge this afternoon courtesy of JT Legend falling flat on his arse yet again. Sorry for tempting fate but what is life without dreams?

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