Leicester 0-0 Chelsea - Third place! Who would have thought!

Them : I met Foxy. Foxy is a dead fox that one of their fans wears on his head. This actually looks much better than it sounds. The st...

Them: I met Foxy. Foxy is a dead fox that one of their fans wears on his head. This actually looks much better than it sounds. The stuffed head sits on his cap and then the rest of him flops down the back like a Davy Crockett hat - he wears a little shirt and everything. Very cute. It’s 60 years old so he predates Sp*rs’s last title win, which was a long, long, LONG time ago, when people weren’t so tree huggy. Secondly it's a fox, and they’re b*stards anyway. Judging by the expression on his face he went out fighting, anyway. And now he’s famous. Like a dead impressionist who nobody heard of when they were breathing.

Us: Caballero, Luiz, Dave, Zappacosta, Alonso, Jorginho, Barkley, Loftus-Cheek, Willian, Pedro Pony, Higuain. Which is my way of saying: lots of changes.

Before they thanked their own fans, we got a lovely reception and congratulations from the club and the home support for making the Europa League final. They weren’t loving us so much on two minutes when Slabhead nodded off, Barkley whipped round the back of the defence and got a shot off. There was a little flurry from them at the start but then we started to get into it. Willian was particularly spritely with a European final on the horizon. It was like watching Malouda when he realised his contract was about to expire. Let's not be cynical though. There was a chance for a few to make an impression with Baku looming.

Low shot from Little Willy on 13 minutes, but not enough on it and it went straight to the keeper. While they took it back off for another go at us, both ends of the ground were in last day party mode. The away support was having a merry time bantering with the yokels, sorry, locals. Curse We’ve won it all ditty, to which they responded You’ve never won League One. My point exactly. 17 and Jorginho played a neat ball out to Pedro Pony with the outside of his foot, but his attempt at a volley was scuffed and then they whacked the side netting. In truth we were all more interested in what everybody else was doing.

City still 0-0 and the Scouse were ahead. Certain quarters at Anfailed were getting a little ahead of themselves. Edgy moments in the away end back at the King Power. And a fair bit of the home crowd too. Won’t someone come and deliver us from this nightmare before it’s too late? Big cheer for Cardiff winning at Old Trafford, as attentions turned to Loftus-Cheek.

(To Push It, but Salt & Pepa) 
Been Chelsea since youth - but couldn’t get a game
On loan at Palace - it just wasnt the same
In centre-mid now - he’s playing every week
Lewisham Ballack - it’s Ruben Loftus-Cheek
Du du du du du du it’s Ruben Loftus-Cheek
Du du du du du du it’s Ruben Loftus-Cheek

Hang on. Stop everything. BRIGHTON WHAT THE F*CK ARE YOU DOING?!

Bugger our game, now everyone is singing Come on Citeh and We hate Scousers

We only had to wait a few minutes for Pep and his minions to get their sh*t together. In came Aguero to bitchslap Scouse celebrations in the face. It’ was like this script was being written by an Evertonian with a chip on his shoulder big enough to defeat Sam Allardyce’s appetite. Rapturous celebrations from us and plenty of Leicester, followed by much gloating in the shape of the Demba Ba ditty and Have you ever seen Gerrard win the league?

Pretty much zero attention being paid to our game until we celebrated a Vardy effort being headed right at Big Willy. Hard cheese rat face, but really we should have been concentrating, because, after all, the Sp*ds were winning and we wanted to finish third. It was dead even at the moment, but not entertaining. They weren’t matching each other, just cancelling each other out. Just over from Pedro Pony, then quick reactions from Zappacosta in the box on 36 to deny them a close range chance.

At Brighton, Laporte had cannoned out of nowhere and headed the ball downwards into the net. Bet 365 pinged me, so where we were stood, we were already singing when the City goal went up on the screen. Back to the top they went. Get in. Vardy in on 44. Off he sprinted, then he played one of the worst f*cking crosses you’ve ever seen and in the end Big Willy lay dry humping the ball and somehow we still weren’t losing. In the meantime Ruben had come close again, before in injury time, Barkley played the ball through to Higuain for a sitter. Which he missed. As they walked off the pitch there was a rampant chorus of Oh Tammy Tammy, Tammy Tammy Tammy Tammy Abraham. 

Do you know what we don’t get any credit from the Daily Fail and other sh*trags of its ilk for as Chelsea fans? The complete ease and open mindedness with which we have embraced the idea of gender fluid toilets. Every game I go to a game there are random chaps wandering round the ladies, and it’s just become as accepted by all involved. Nobody even bats an eyelid anymore.

The second half began with a long range effort leathered by Tielemans, but it was a choppy start to the second half, and the crowd needed to get going again. Lots of niggly fouls from them.  Barkley shanked one just wide on 52, while we got big love from most of our end for Hazard as he came out to warm up. If they loved him that much they might have collectively noticed that it was in fact Kovacic running up and down. Yeah, we’d know that a*se anywhere, and that was not it. Nonetheless there were the needy chants of We want you to stay, they came back with He’s off to Madrid, to which they got back Eden Hazard, he won you the league and so on. That got a round of applause. Then the real Eden actually did come out to warm up. Another one off the line from Zappacosta. That’s two in a week. We could have maybe had a chance on 59 if our striker had you know, tried to strike the ball in the box instead of watching it rolling out of play until the fans screamed at him. At which point he began a derogatory jog.

You know the song, Love Will Tear Us Apart? Joy Division?
Sp*rs, Sp*rs are falling apart again. 
They were winning. Then not winning. Then losing. Then not losing. Either way, if Everton hung on to a draw, we would finish above the jobbers even if we didn’t score. And frankly, by this point Sexpest had a better chance of scoring than any player out there on either side.

We were still having a go, but it was very shoddy in the final third and we’d lost interest in the stands. Well, I had. Clearance by Slabhead on 81. Lame penalty shout by us on 82. Then it was Operation Sexpest. He’s on wheels at the moment, and I had to go and find him as the clock ticked down in order to deliver him back to his coach. There he was basking in the sunshine in his chair, close enough to the pitch that Higuain would have heard his brutal opinion when he let the ball roll out. He’d made a friend too. She’s been going to Chelsea since 1959 and thus reserves the right to tell any player she likes that he is being a dickhead. She exercised this right on half the team in the last five minutes. This was after the stewards at Leicester (who were very nice to our disabled fans today by the way) tried to inform her that we were out of wheelchair spaces, that she’d have to sit with the home fans and not cheer if we scored. She told them to f*ck off. The fact that she was kitted head to toe in Chelsea gear, as was her mobility thingy, probably made the argument ever so slightly redundant. Anyway, they had a fab time together, and with the stewards. On the final whistle I decided to wheel Sexpest as close to the pitch as possible, in the hope that a player would pay attention to him. Thank you David Luiz and Marcos Alonso, for making him feel special and ensuring that he got a shirt from the former. Being the weirdo perv that he is, the first thing he did was sniff it. Then he made me sniff it. Our number 30 smells remarkably un-offensive at the end of a game of football.

So: I’ll dissect our season properly in the book of the blog, after Baku, but suffice to say on the plus side, we were never going to beat the top two after what they spent, with a new manager when theirs have had a few years to acclimatise to the Premier League. They were the only two that finished ahead of us. And we made two finals, might possibly take a European trophy. Glass half full, though Smutbuddy on the Fancast is going to literally soil himself out of rage when he sees that I’ve written that. In miserable bugger mode, Sarri hinted that catching the Scouse or City is basically impossible. We could discuss everything bad there is about him now, and what’s been wrong with us this season, but I’m too busy p*ssing myself laughing at the Scouse and it’s a buzz kill. Soon my pretties, soon.

On to Baku we go. Well, half a dozen or so fans might make it. This is a conversation with my one Gooner friend:
“I don’t want Hazard having a good leaving party!!"
“Don’t worry, we’re going to have to try and keep him off the burgers for seventeen days.”
"I’m on Deliveroo sorting him out now!”

As for Sexpest, we delivered him home safe and sound. Actually thrilled and chirping away like an excited kid about his day out. He even ended up with two of us briefly in his bedroom, so he was happy. He’s determined that he’s going to be walking in and out of games next season, so channel your best wishes, pray for him, send him dirty pictures or some Scouse bashing memes; whatever, anything you can to keep his spirits up and restore him to full filthy git mode. Because he’s adamant that he’s not going to be beaten. And we love him and we want him back.

AC - A Girl Who Likes Balls Blog.


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