Welcome to Priesty´s Chelsea FC Refuge - In memory of Matthew Harding

Dr Les on Franck Leboeuf and Liverpool

We have been mercifully free of the irascible Dr Les over the past couple of weeks, as he's been broadening his horizons to include most of the other major south-east Asian centres of self-indulgence. Unfortunately even Les finds that too much of a good thing can become a trifle wearing after a while, so he has slunk back to Hong Kong to dose himself up on antibiotics and the elixir of tiger's penis which he purchases in bulk from the Wun Fat Tit Cold Storage and General Emporium.

Please take a minute to peruse the jaundiced views of the mad medic as he takes it upon himself to defend Franck Leboeuf and then reminisces on an infamous Chelsea v Liverpool game in February 1982.

Sir,
I have two things on my mind today; the first is to defend a Chelsea great and the second is to stroll down memory lane.

So who is this Chelsea great that I am so keen to defend ? It is none other than Frank Leboeuf. And why should I have to defend such a living legend ? That is hard to answer. I am at a loss why such an outstanding player should suffer the abuse of so called Chelsea fans.

On Saturday Frank played his 200th game in a Chelsea shirt and he was magnifique! It is beyond me why some small minded cunts, who call themselves Chelsea fans, have a go at such a player. I will give you 10 reasons why I place him right up there with Sir Eddie of Newton:

  1. He's only missed one penalty, while scoring a fuckload
  2. He was instrumental in the downfall of that Italian playboy, (he who signed Sutton and who was found to have no coaching qualifications)
  3. He is king of the long shot, the 70 yard cross field pass, the deadball and the swan dive
  4. He was sent off for stamping on Jonathan from Leeds
  5. He has a 90 inch scar running from ear to ear
  6. He has never played for West Ham, Leeds, Tottenham, or Man Utd
  7. He's here
  8. He's there
  9. He's every fucking where
  10. He's Frank Leboeuf

So anyone who endorses the FOF campaign can go and sit with their Combat 18 friends, as they are fucking morons and Nazis. You see my point ?

On a happier note I would like to wind back the clock to the 13th February 1982 and stroll down memory lane on what is a huge day in the history of the Blues.

At that time Chelsea were an all-English team, permanently stuck in the old second division, and had drawn Liverpool in the 4th round of the FA Cup. Believe it or not Liverpool were actually a reasonably successful team and were expected to murder Chelsea. Liverpool did not field one English player, preferring to play any Irish, Scottish or Welshman available (but nobody remembers that today do they ?). Chelsea's chances were further reduced because we had to play our 3rd choice goalie, 17 year old Steve Francis (who was probably the best keeper I have ever seen play).

1982 was before the invention of ticket-only matches and attendance was on a scrummage basis. I went to the game with Tommy Seagull, and we had decided to get to the ground early. The Fulham Road was no problem until we got to the Broadway, and then all hell broke loose. It was a sea of violence, with the three sides laying into each other. First Chelsea would steam into the Scousers while the old bill stood back watching, then the old bill would attack anything that moved, and then the Scousers would attack anyone that had fallen on the ground. Then Chelsea would start all over again.

Me and Tommy somehow managed to get to the Bovril Gate and stood in line. Even there it was chaos with lunatics trying to scale the walls and everybody mad drunk. In the madness I managed to get in just before the turnstiles were shut, but Tommy was not so lucky. This was at 1.30pm and there were 42,000 drunks already in attendance. I left Tommy, a forlorn figure, moaning and farting by the turnstile. He was later arrested erecting a stepladder against the Shed turnstiles in full view of 400 policemen.

As luck would have it I stumbled across Priesty and we stood in the West Side of the Shed, laughing our bollocks off at the thought of Tommy vainly trying to get in, and enjoyed the pre-match entertainment. This consisted of Chelsea steaming into the Scousers in the old North Stand to the tune of "North Stand do your job, North Stand, North Stand do your job". (Sadly as a result the North Stand remained closed for the next 15 years).

The game itself was even better than anyone could imagine. After 7 minutes Peter Rhoades-Brown ran down the left wing, cut inside and slotted the ball low into the far corner. 1 - 0 to the Chelsea. Liverpool then attacked in earnest for the next 80 minutes but nothing could get past Steve Francis. Finally Colin Lee decided enough was enough and put the match beyond doubt in the 85th.

The celebrations were beyond belief - and this was a time before Ecstasy had been invented. It was made even better when we drew Spurs at home in the 5th round. It makes you proud to be Chelsea.

You see my point?
Dr Les, The Voice of Reason

I remember the day well, Les. It will stay forever etched on the part of my brain labelled: MENTAL, MENTAL, CHICKEN ORIENTAL. Thank you for reminding me of this. At last you have done a good service to the site. Bravo!

Priesty.


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