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

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Welcome to Priesty's Refuge. It's an unofficial, totally independent site dedicated to Chelsea Football Club, created with love by a fan of long standing. I remember with hazy nostalgia when Chelsea were fashionable the first time around, and I'm proud to have stuck by The Blues during the lean times.

This site is for people who espouse what Pele described so lyrically as "The Beautiful Game" - the fans - and will pour scorn at every opportunity on the feeding-frenzy excesses of the media and other vested interests that are ruining football. Why call it a Refuge ?

Come in, relax and put your feet up while I guide you through the tangled morass of rumour, lies, PR guff and tabloid fantasy that surrounds Chelsea Football Club. I will do this by means of counter-rumour, slander, wild conjecture and childish tantrums. I'll leave it to you to decide who's nearer the truth.

First, try making sense of what's said about the Blues on the Web.
Remember that this is the media version of events, often taken
verbatim from the PR handouts or made up by lazy hacks.

STOP PRESS: For some reason the myfootballnews newsfeed
seems to have stopped working. I strongly suspect that
they have issues with freedom of speech, in which
case they're not worth bothering with.
Here's an alternative site for
links to made-up bullshit.

Now get the news from a fan's point of view. I will attempt to put
my own spin on the daily circus that surrounds the Club:

Extra ! Extra !  Reeeeeeeeeaad all about it !

Latest news is at the top. For new visitors I should explain* that there's often a common thread that links the various items, so it may aid contextual continuity if you start at the bottom and work your way up.

*If you're one of the many ManUre or Liverpoo followers who inexplicably feel the need to visit the site, nothing I can say or do will help you - you're already away with the fairies.

Fuck off, Scousers!

8th July 2009
The Meff Is Innocent !

Fuck me. There was I thinking that all that CCTV evidence showing Joey thumping seven bells out of that bloke, plus his five mates pleading guilty, would send him down as sure as self defence is eggs, and then along comes a not guilty ! Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me...

22nd July 2009
The Meff Was Bevvied

Juicy details are emerging of the "incident" in a sleazy bar in Liverpool involving flawed Liverpoo captain Stephen Gerraaaaaard. According to the prosecution Gerrard, aka Joey, "unleashed a flurry of punches, more like a professional boxer than a footballer" when he became involved in an unseemly fracas with another man over the use of a remote control.

Predictably Joey is denying charges of affray, but unfortunately for him his mates have deserted him and have admitted the charges and there is good CCTV footage of the incident which clearly shows Joey having a good dig at the unfortunate victim.

Those of us who have seen Joey's antics on the pitch know only too well the thuggish nature that surfaces on occasion and will not be surprised that he's up on a charge. Let's just hope that his status as a footballer will not influence the jury's decision.

21st July 2009
Send Him Down

Good day, readers, if there are any of you left. I am moved to put fingers to keyboard becuase I'm having such a cracking day and wanted to share it with you. Stephen Gerraaaaaard, vicious Captain of Liverpool, FC, has been up to his tricks again and is in court for being the scallywag that he undoubtedly is. With any luck he will be found guilty and will spend the next five years at Her Majesty's Pleasure. More tomorrow ! PS Fuck off, Liverpool.

28th October 2008
You Talking Like A Big Monkey, Man

It was sickening to witness so-called Chelsea fans crying their eyes out after the game against Liverpool on Sunday, when Chelsea's eighty-six game, four and a half year unbeaten run at Stamford Bridge came to an end. They should have been celebrating with the team and paying tribute to them for a feat that will likely never be equalled, the fuckwits. Instead they gave the few feral scousers who had made it to the ground exactly what they were hoping for. Fucking shameful, by any standards.

The characterless morons who cried are no better then the scousers, who as everyone knows (but most are afraid to say it) love nothing better than to wallow in self-pity. The run had to end sometime, and in terms of the league title it means nothing. Anyone who knows anything at all about football (i.e. not Rafa) will tell you that one game, a lucky deflected goal and negative, spoiling tactics doesn't win the title. Berk Benitez would beg to differ, thus proving beyond doubt that he is a fully signed-up, first class fucktard.

The Iberian idiot appears convinced that Liverpool are going to win the title, although how he arrives at that conclusion after this win and with only a quarter of the season gone is a mystery that rivals the whereabouts of Lord Lucan, and is just as unlikely to be solved. Clearly dimwit Rafa needs a big dose of reality on his cornflakes; Winning six games out of twenty-one against Chelsea is not exactly a shining record, and the reality is that Sunday's good fortune doesn't make Liverpool any more likely to win the title than before. We will see who is crying into their looted beer come the end of the season, won't we ? Fuck off, Liverpool !

23rd October 2008
Didier Drogba, Man Of Our Times

Normally I would give footballing autobiographies a wide berth, as in my view they are for the most part an insult to both intelligence and literature. That's just me, though; judging by the sales figures generated by these sporting comicbooks there are clearly countless hordes of drooling idiots who appear to have nothing better to do than reading padded-out, ghost-written nonsense about the vapid and pointless lives of arrogant halfwits who earn more in a day than most of us do in a year, just because they're good at kicking an air-filled plastic ball around. Wayne Rooney's two (!) autobiographies are a prime example of this.

You can therefore imagine my apprehension, readers, when I was given a preview copy of Didier Drogba's new autobiography, but in the end my curiosity overcame my prejudices and I headed towards the bog - the only place to read nonsense of this type.

Although most of Droggie's Magnum Opus is predictably dull there is one, perfect pearl hidden among the dross. It concerns the European Cup Final of last year, where, if you remember, poor old Droggie was sent packing for slapping neanderthal-alike defender Nemanja Vidic, a sensible act that millions of people watching would have done had they had the chance. In the book Drogba reminisces that "I have seen the match on video and I believe I should not have been sent off with three minutes to go. If I had punched him, I would have understood. Now I wish I had." Who says that Drogman is not Chelsea through and through ???

9th October 2008
Sepp Blatter Is A Cunt

Good day, readers, if there are any of you left. My absence from this page thus far this season has been because I have had nothing of any interest to say, and my strong belief is that if this is the case then one serves everyone best by shutting the fuck up. A pity, then, that the bloated bigwigs at FIFA and UEFA seem unable to go a single day without wanting to get themselves some column inches for no good purpose.

Not for the first time it's Sepp "Radio Rental" Blatter who's pissing people off with his personal brand of idiocy. Apparently he is ready to challenge the EU so that he can enforce a quota on foreign players. The only problem with this is that European Union law enshrines as a fundamental right that any EU citizen can work anywhere in the EU. Delusions of grandeur, or what ? Ordinarily I would laugh at this kind of tomfoolery, but unfortunately this man is head of the world governing body of football. If he follows the usual pattern of the megalomaniac I imagine that next he will be wanting everyone to wear smart uniforms and adopt a special salute...

22nd May 2008
Champions League Final: Chelsea Pay The Penalty

A magnificent effort by The Mighty Blues in Moscow last night ended in undeserved defeat in a penalty shootout lottery after drawing 1-1 with Man U after extra time. You could not have asked for a more exciting game, with Man U shading the first half and Chelsea completely dominating the second, culminating in the sheer drama of John Terry stepping up to the spot, needing to score his penalty in the shootout to win the game, but hitting the post instead.

Take away the pain of losing to a team who are not good ambassadors for the game, and by that I mean no disrespect to a shiting, whining kindergarten mob, fine when theyre winning but acting like spoilt, retarded delinquents when they lose, and you're left wondering how a team that on their day can produce some of the best football ever seen in this country ends up with nothing but a couple of runners-up trophies. Still, never mind. Call it bad luck or whatever you like, who cares - the important thing is that nobody can say that Chelsea are a worse team than Man U, and we'll be back again next season to rub their noses in it.

Of course one wonders what the outcome would have been if we hadn't had to put up with the amateur officials foisted on us by UEFA. Let's be honest, most of the 500 million people watching would have loved to have been in a position to slap Fergie's boneheaded hatchet-man Vidic, so the referee's decision to send Drogba off for doing so was a shame. Perhaps if Drogman had stayed on he'd have made the difference, but the fact is that Chelsea didn't score the vital goal when they needed to, which has been a recurring factor in important games this season.

I was amused by the shot of the UEFA and FIFA "officials" watching stone-faced and glum as two of the English teams they hate so much fought it out in the Champions League Final while their favoured teams in Spain, Germany and Italy had to watch on TV. They will not take this humiliation lying down, though. My bet is that they will try to bring in new rules based on nationality, cleverly disguised as being fair to all but actually designed to ensure that English teams never again dominate European competitions. The problem is that they want to have their Federal Europe of football cake and eat it. Hopefully clubs like Chelsea will have the courage to take them on in the courts and stop them in their tracks.

I also laughed at pikey-alike Ryan Giggs' assertion that Man U deserved to win the CL as they were "the best team", qualifying this by declaring that "In the first half, we dominated. The second half, they had chances but we held our nerve in the end." I reckon old Rhino must have accidentally turned up at a different match to the one everyone else saw, the one where it was 1-1 at half time and where Chelsea tore United apart in the second half and both halves of extra time, with shots regularly banging into the woodwork. Still, they do say that history is written by the victors, don't they ? Fuck off, Man U !

1st May 2008
..Go Steaming In !

At last ! Chelsea reach the final of the Champions League for the first time in their history. Pinch yourself, readers; in the past five days we have overcome not only bastard Man U but also those rascally scousers !

A fantastic second leg against Liverpoo at Stamford Bridge last night, culminating in half an hour of extra time that confirms that Chelsea are by far the greatest team the world has ever seen, and that the mancs and the scousers are all mouth and no trousers. I'm looking forward to giving united another good tousling in the final - bring it on ! PS Fuck off, Rafa, and fuck off, Liverpool !

28th April 2008
Oh When The Blues..

A superb two hours of entertainment at Stamford Bridge ends in humiliation and disgrace for Manchester United. Humiliation because they were outplayed and soundly beaten, and disgrace because of the appalling behaviour of their manager and players, both during and after the game. And all because they did not have either the character or the dignity to accept defeat at the hands of a better team. Chelsea may have their problems with diving centre forwards and players mouthing off the ref, but let's be honest, it's chicken feed compared to what we saw from Man U on Saturday.

The thuggish behaviour by United's senior players must be addressed by the FA, who even now will surely be drawing up a charge sheet preparatory to making an example of these beasts. (yeah, right! - ed). Ferdinand in particular must be banned and have his wages docked for at least the rest of the season for trying to provoke a punchup with Claude Makelele at one end of the ground and then screaming insults into the referee's face at the other when the clearest penalty you're ever likely to see was awarded against his shit team.

Worse was to come when Van Der Sar had to be physically restrained when trying to attack the ref after the game. Just when you thought it could not get any better, er I mean worse, Ferdinand lost all control in the tunnel and ended up kicking a female match steward, a contemptible act that has no justification, but Ferdinand tried to justify it by announcing to the press that it was an accident and that he'd meant to kick the wall instead ! Then, in an obvious attempt to take the heat out of the situation, members of the Man U team took it upon themselves to become involved in a fist fight with the Chelsea stewards ! You just cannot buy this sort of entertainment, can you, readers ?

The fact that Ferdinand thinks that he can escape the consequences by sending the steward a bunch of flowers demonstrates the contempt he holds for others, and only too clearly indicates just what sort of person we're dealing with. In my opinion he should be in a prison cell, not touted as the next England captain. Unfortunately, due to the fact that the FA have no bollocks and and United have no morals, you can bet that Ferdinand will get away scot free. Sickening. Even though biscuit-arse Fergie's behaviour was just as bad I could not help laughing my bollocks off at the sight of his red face as he abused the third official. Tsk tsk. No class. Fuck off, Man U. Fuck off, Man U. Fuck off, Man U !

23rd April 2008
Scousers Rocked By Bolt From The Blue

A good night for Chelsea at Anfield in the first leg of the Champions League semi-final, as they force the important away goal in the last second of the game, thus silencing the hordes of feral scousers who had previously been baiting the Chelsea players and generally behaving like the monkeys that they are. We're all set for a week's time when Chelsea will show Liverpoo up as a second-rate team with a mouthy twat of a manager who knows fuck nothing about football.

Next it's an early Christmas for Man U at Stamford Bridge on Saturday, when they will be stuffed up like turkeys by the greatest team the world has ever seen. And it's Super Chelsea, Super Chelsea FC ! PS: Fuck off, scousers !

18th April 2008
United We Fall

Chelsea moved a little closer last night to pulling off the greatest comeback since Jesus turned up on Easter Sunday as they eased past Everton at Goodison Park. Only two points in it now, and United have yet to face Chelsea, Blackburn and the mighty West Ham. By the time they face Wigan in their last game they will have been roasted so comprehensively by Fergie's hairdryer that they will look like they've been Tangoed !

On a more sobering note, it appears that Dr Les has found another outlet for his ranting. Up until now I have been able to control him but he's finally gnawed through the bars and has escaped from his box. God help the world..

15th April 2008
Press Gang Lose Plot Again

Once again the sewer rats of the gutter press are wallowing in shit, trumpeting their delight as Chelsea drop two points at home against Wigan. A poor result, yes, but these things happen - hardly the end of the fucking world, I would have thought. Man U proved that when they lost at home to Portsmouth.

To listen to thse cunts anyone would think that the game is up and that Man U have won the title already ! We're five points behind with four games to play, including a home game against Man U that we'll certainly win, not exactly huge odds. In fact I would recommend all my readers to go straight down Mr Ladbrokes and put next month's mortgage payment on the Mighty Blues to win both the title AND the Champions League. You know it makes sense ! PS Fuck off, Liverpool.

9th April 2008
Scouser ! Scouser ! Lock Up Your Car !

Forgive the lack of updates recently - I've been on holiday in Miami, where most of the locals appear to have failed the auditions for the film "Dumb and Dumber". It's not all doom and gloom for them, though - they easily qualify as the rudest people I've ever met, and don't forget that I have Dr Les to use as the consummate yardstick on this subject.

Having rather satisfyingly got that off my chest, I will now return to footballing matters. It seems that Chelsea are the victims of a curse, having now drawn Liverpoo in three of the four Champions League semi-finals that we've been involved in over the past five years. Readers will be depressingly aware of the injustices that were meted out to us on the last two occasions, so I will not drag it all up again - I'm already enervated enough after last night's game against Johnny Turk, thanks.

Speaking of last night, I imagine most of you will be thinking roughly along the same lines as me, i.e. why must we suffer like this, and what the hell is wrong with Didier Drogba ? He's a big man, right ? So how come he appears to be so easy to brush off his feet ? Answers on the back of a diving competition score card, please. If you ask me JT should be having a fucking good word with Didier as soon as he likes, along the lines of "Shape up or ship out, you big girl. You are in England now, not Italy/Spain/Germany/Croatia/South America/delete where applicable".

While we are at it, can anyone tell me why it is that laughing-boy Grant insists on playing Nicolas Anelka as a wing halfback, or a half wingback, or whatever the fuck you call it ? No wonder he's not scoring any goals !! I ask you !! I'm feeling good now, thanks for helping me with my therapy, readers. When all's said and done I invite you to join me in a rousing chorus of "Fuck 'em all. Fuck 'em all - United, West Ham, Liverpool. We are the Chelsea and we are the best. We are the Chelsea, so fuck all the rest !"

11th March 2008
A Tale Of The Seventies

Given the depressing football events of the last couple of weeks I thought it would be a nice change to try to cheer my readers up with a non football-related tale of substance abuse, youthful over-enthusiasm and humiliation.

While wearily putting up with First Great Western's idea of a train service this morning, an incident came to mind that I had never once thought about since it happened, over thirty years ago. In those days there were literally hundreds of venues in London that featured regular live music. There was also a reliable supply of mind-altering substances, usually readily available without having to run the multiple risks associated with the purchase of illegal substances these days, i.e. mugging, shooting, knifing, imprisonment, or, if you're unlucky, a combination thereof.

We are talking about the early seventies here; the only real entertainment was the weekly trip to the football, where arrest or ejection from the ground was an occupational hazard. If you were lucky enough to avoid the old bill you spent most of the time either running from or chasing after firms of rival supporters. Good though that was, the heady combination of drugs and live music was a powerful draw in an era when games consoles, multi-channel TV and the like were still years away.

Consequently I was a regular frequenter of establishments like the Rainbow theatre and the Roundhouse. Even if the band was rubbish, entertainment was invariably to be had from observing the hordes of stoned nutters staggering around the place. My abiding memory is of a cove known as Jesus who used to run up and down the aisle doing silly dancing. Sometimes he had a tambourine, but always he looked like a cunt. These things tend to stick in your mind.

Strangely I don't remember much else, probably due to the attrition caused by epic substance abuse. Which brings me to the episode that I referred to earlier that popped up unbidden from a murky recess of my addled brain. It was at the Roundhouse; I had taken many "French Blues", which are a mixture of amphetamine and barbiturates. The effect of these two opposites fighting each other in your system cannot be adequately described, but I would say that it was akin to that of the modern clubbers' drug ecstasy. At least, I felt ecstatic.

To cut a long and embarrassing story short, I ended up trying to climb onto the stage while Hawkwind were performing, but not for the usual reasons - I had somehow got it into my head that their leader Dave Brock had communicated subliminally with me that he wanted some of my French Blues. I was foaming at the mouth and everything. Inevitably I received a good tousling from the "road crew" of uncouth Hell's Angel types, right there in front of the entire audience. There was even a smattering of applause as I was callously ejected through a side door. I only found out later as I tried to buy some plasters that the roadies had "confiscated" the rest of my pills and my wallet. A cracking day out, and no mistake.

10th March 2008

Ah, the romance of the FA Cup; the great leveller, the only competition in the world where any club from any league has a chance of winning. Don't you just love it ? Grrrrrr.....

Presumably the pathetic display by Chelsea against Barnsley was all part of Avram's Great Plan to scoop the Premier and Champions League titles. What else could explain it ? Could it be that Chelsea aren't as good as they think they are ? Surely not...

4th March 2008
Don't Mess with Dr Les

Somewhat predictably, Les has lost no time in coming forward to congratulate Robert Green and worst team in London West Ham on their exploits at the weekend versus Chelsea, by far the greatest team the world has ever seen. If you are of a strong constitution by all means read on.

3rd March 2008
All Mouth And No Track Suit Bottoms

So, Robert Green, goalkeeper of worst team in London West Ham United. Perhaps today you are wondering why you so rashly trumpeted to anyone who would listen, (i.e. nobody) that following their Carling Cup loss Chelsea were "not looking forward" to travelling to East London on Saturday, and that West Ham were "going to get stuck in" and "cause an upset", etc. etc.

This morning, as you rub your aching lower back, sore because of the constant stooping involved in picking the ball out of the back of your net, perhaps you are regretting your rash pre-match outburst. Possibly you are also musing that life can be shit, especially when you are facing The Blues, by far the best team in the world.

To demonstrate that Chelsea fans can be graceful in victory, Robert Green, goalkeeper of worst team in London West Ham, I will offer some free advice: perhaps in future you should think carefully before making outlandish, fanciful public predictions and just generally shut the fuck up, thus possibly saving you from further painful visits to both Sketchleys and the osteopath.

Good to see that normal service has been restored so soon after the Carling Cup debacle. Chelsea trouncing West Ham 4-0 and Rottenham hopelessly outclassed by Birmingham City (!) in a 4-1 rout, plus Arsenal bottling it at home against Hatstand Villa. All we need now is a life ban for the appalling, useless cunt of a referee who sent off Frank Lampard while failing even to book thug Luis Boa Morte and all will once more be well with the world.

Licence to print money dept: it's looking more than ever like the Treble is on for the Famous CFC. My advice, and I'm sure Dr Les will back me on this one, is to put your shirt on it at Mr Ladbroke's before it goes odds-on. You know it makes sense !

28th February 2008
Dr Les In Bilious Attack Shocker

As I suspected, Les has found it impossible not to speak out following Chelsea's ignominious defeat at the weekend to a small club with no ambition. It seems that Les ill-advisedly chose a gruesome sports-themed pub in uptown Singapore to watch the game, and, judging by the regular and increasingly garrulous texts I was receiving, he had clearly adopted the lonely place at the bar reserved for aggressive drunks.

According to Les he was singled out for abuse for no reason and had to make his usual hasty retreat, yelling drunken threats and spitting on the floor as he went. I have witnessed this behaviour on many occasions so it's easy for me to read between the lines, but readers are obviously free to make their own judgment.

25th February 2008
Chelsea Lose To ROTTENHAM Shocker

Yesterday's performance at Wembley clearly revealed Chelsea's worrying lack of penetration against even minor teams like Rottenham, who, in spite of a being laughably inept in all departments nevertheless managed to achieve the impossible by beating the Blues for only the second time in five hundred years.

I don't like to slate my team but they were worryingly ineffectual in attack. Worse, they managed to make a bunch of talentless journeymen cloggers look good around the rest of the pitch, and that takes some doing. It did fool the idiots at Sky Sports, though - they kept saying how good Rottenham were, an oxymoron if ever I heard one !

Hopefully misery-guts Avram will have got the idea out of his system once and for all that Chelsea's style of play can accomodate both Drogba and Anelka at the same time. This was obvious right from the start, and Grant's inability to grasp the nettle and remove one or the other of them in good time to save the match graphically demonstrates that he knows fuck nothing about football.

Anelka in particular should have been subbed within the first ten minutes - he was absolute rubbish and achieved the dubious distinction of making Jonathan and Ledley look like lions, instead of the donkeys that they really are. Chelsea have become one-dimensional and frankly boring since Grant took over, and I know Dr Les will join me in saying that it's high time ole JR Abvramovich gets a grip, punts Grant into the bushes and reinstates Vialli or Don Claudio before we all die of boredom.

The only laugh to be had in an otherwise grim afternoon was the pathetic sight of Robbie Keane breaking down in tears after winning the most minor competition in the world. This says all you need to know about the ambition of small-timers Spurs, cunts that they are. PS Fuck off, Liverpool !

15th February 2008
Breathing Can Harm Your Health

Ho hum. Nothing much to report on the football front. Plenty of crap and bollocks about which clubs Drogba and Lampard are "definitely" going to sign for, but precious little in the way of facts.

While on the subject of bollocks and lack of facts, I am fuming (forgive the pun) about the publicity being given to the few idiots who want to reclassify cannabis as a Class B drug, thus making criminals out of several million people who in the main only want to chill out. Why is this ? A good question, to which I will attempt to provide a slightly subversive answer.

Cannabis is known for its calming effect and does little or no physiological or psychological harm to the vast majority of those who take it. There are some exceptions - people who are prone to psychological problems should avoid cannabis as it can exacerbate their condition. The worst that can happen to a normal person who binges on cannabis is a nasty attack of the munchies - it doesn't usually turn people into raving, violent thugs who would kill their own grandmother if she looked at them funny.

On the other hand, it is a stone cold fact that alcohol is a serious public health problem which causes misery, death and destruction wherever it's prevalent. Every night the streets of our city centres are filled with drunks looking for people to maim. Casualty departments are full of their victims, and wards are crammed with people waiting for liver transplants or suffering from other serious diseases caused by alcohol abuse. Thousands of people every year are injured or killed by drunk drivers. Thousands of families are ripped apart because of alcoholism. I could go on but I think I've made my point.

So how come alcohol isn't classified as a Class B or even a class A drug, as it deserves to be ? Because it's the drug of the establishment, that's why - the cunts who make the law are all pissheads. It really is as simple as that. To deflect attention from the real problem they get their pisshead mates at the Daily Mail to fill the front pages with scare stories about crazed youths killing their parents and deflowering virgins while under the influence of killer skunk. The facts get pushed aside by waves of hysteria; the advantage is with the pissheads.

So there it is. Look forward to becoming a Class B criminal again very soon. If, like millions of other people, you like the odd gulp of bong water while listening to Dub Side Of The Moon in the privacy of your front room, you are that much more likely to receive a nasty early morning wake up call and a bouncy trip in the back of a crappy sherpa van while being abused by retards in blue uniforms. Hopefully they won't put you in a cell with a drunk.

Luckily, none of this affects me - as Dr Les will testify, I do not need mind-altering substances to make my day go with a bang.

11th February 2008
Out But Not Down

Chelsea bowed out of the title race yesterday with a depressing 0-0 draw against perennial no-hopers Liverpool. I don't think I've seen a more inept performance from the Blues since 1980; as far as I can remember there was not even ONE shot on goal.

The strange thing is, though, that perversely I find it quite comforting that Chelsea are now worse than Derby, worse even than Rottenham. The answer to our problems ? Sack that cunt Avram immediately and put Keegan in charge. At least we would get a few laughs. Fuck off, Liverpoo !

25th January 2008
Down But Not Out

Apologies, readers, for the brief outage of the site during the last couple of days when using the www.chelsea-fc.org.uk address - this was due to an administrative cockup at my ISP, now corrected using old-fashioned techniques involving harsh words and accusations.. For future reference you can always use www.oocities.org/~priesty to get to the site if the other address isn't working.

With impeccable timing, Dr Les has chosen to celebrate the Phoenix-like revival of the site by submitting another of his infamous poison pen letters. This time it's Everton, Arsenal, Liverpool and myself who get it in the neck. I advise strongly against reading this filth, but if you insist on ignoring my advice then be it on your own head.

9th January 2008
Up For The Cup

A barnstorming cup tie in the first leg of the Carling Cup semi-final at Stamford Bridge last night ended in a narrow 2-1 victory for Chelsea. The only sour note was the unnecessary sending off of John Obi Mikel by a referee whose inconsistency was matched only by his complete failure to take account of the fact that this was a cup tie, played with passion. The only answer, and remember you heard it here first, readers, is to fuck refs off altogether, arm the players with knives and let them get on with it. Job done.

2nd January 2008
Happy New Year

Good day, readers ! I hope you all had a cool Yule, or whatever pagan festival you cared to celebrate. I am a sadder and a much wiser man, having had the "pleasure" of the In-laws' company over the holiday period. By contrast it was a a pretty good Christmas for The Blues, dropping only two points in a tricky series of games. Dodgy refereeing decisions abounded, but for a change most of these went our way. Bad luck for the Derby Counties of this world, but there it is.

My German correspondent Klaus sent me a garbled email over Xmas, concerning his depressingly familiar adventures following Chelsea while in various EU countries. As you can imagine I have had to heavily edit his drunken rants into something approaching legibility, but I warn you you'll need a strong stomach..

21st December 2007
Make Mine A Carling

It's taken me well over 48 hours to get over the hangover, but it was worth it. What am I on about ? On Wednesday night Dr Les and my good self had the good fortune to attend, in a shamefully loutish way, the Carling Cup quarter final win against those rascally Scousers, that's what I'm on about. For those in the mood for punishment, here's a summary of the evening:

Having attempted, with some success, to drink and smoke ourselves into a stupour beforehand, we approached the watchful picket line of policemen surrounding Stamford Bridge. Les was so out of it that before I could stop him he'd actually walked into a senior officer, knocking him off balance. I had visions of the last time we were stopped, which ended in utter confusion and threats of arrest after Les had drunkenly yelled "Who's this cunt, Priesty ??" while I was attempting to talk our way out of trouble.

Miracles do happen - we were allowed to continue and after the usual gulped pints of pissy lager and desperate queuing for the bogs, we emerged into the light. Typically we found ourselves in a section reserved for "raspberry ripples", a situation that failed to surprise me, having left it to Dr Les to obtain tickets from scalpers who had actually laughed as they handed them over. The sheer chaos generated by several hundred mentally and/or physically challenged kids trying to get into their seats was fearful, but as it happened this turned out to be a stroke of luck for us - for once Les and I were able to blend in to the crowd.

Frankly there few high points in a match that for the most part appeared to be played as if the teams were at the training ground. Among the few moments of real excitement was the sending off of Peter Crouch, for a two-footed, flying tackle that would have done justice to Bruce Lee. Crouch managed to milk further value from this episode by abusing the 4th official as he went, and yelling "fuck off" at the Chelsea fans who were quite rightly calling him names. You just can't buy this sort of entertainment.

The other high point was accidentally generated by yours truly. We were three rows back from the pitch so were able to make ourselves heard by any player who came near. We had entertained ourselves and the small children around us by yelling inappropriate comments at Crouch, Carragher and Alonso, but were also encouraging Wayne Bridge, Shevchenko and Frank Lampard, all of whom were roaming our touchline at various points.

At one point Shevchenko tried to pass to Bridge but lost control and ended up booting the ball into touch. I immediately rose to my feet, gesticulating wildly, and tore him off a strip. To my pleasant surprise Sheva heard me and stopped, looked directly at me and held up his hands in apology. The crowd in our vicinity was laughing at this and I got some some pats on the back from drunks and adulation from several dozen small children and assorted wheelchair users. An amusing moment, and Sheva has now jumped several thousand places in my popularity chart. Fuck off, Liverpool !

PS I'd like to wish my loyal readers a very happy xmas and a jolly New Year. Brian in Galway - I was amused to hear from Dr Les that you're getting your info on his whereabouts from my site. Here's to you and I hope we can meet up again soon.

17th December 2007
Bumnal My Arsenal

Well I guess we can say goodbye to any lingering hopes of winning the title again this year, thanks to bulgy-eyed, gobby alien William Gallas, the man who looks like his head's about to explode. A narrow 1-0 loss at the Emirates was made worse by the loss of JT for an unspecified period, courtesy of some deliberate thuggery from Emmanuel Eboue. Some measure of justice was achieved when Eboue in turn was later carried off on a stretcher.

All in all a good game, and no disgrace in losing. No less than ten yellow cards atone to the fact that both teams were going balls out trying to provide entertainment for their fans. The Blues never gave up, even when a goal down with 15 minutes to go, as epitomised by Ashley Cole fetching froggy Fabregas a right hook to the chin in the last second of the game, followed by a two-fingered Royal Salute to the Bumnal fans as he walked off. Bravo !

Anyway, fuck all that shite, I'm more interested in the important thing, which is Wednesday's Carling Cup action against those wacky scousers. My hope is that we'll stuff one up them with the aid of a couple of dubious refereeing decisions, thus providing their fans with the excuse to indulge in their breast-beating "perennially hard-done-by" act, which as all Chelsea fans know is just a cynical cover for their real purpose: wholesale thievery and riotous assembly. In any case the entertainment value promises to be of an extremely high calibre. Fuck off, Liverpoo !

PS: Some of my readers will doubtless be pleased to hear that I will be attending the Liverpool match in the dubious company of the evil Dr Les, who somehow evaded arrest when arriving at Heathrow from the Far East earlier this week. All the same, don't expect a coherent report - I will be lucky not to be permanently blinded by the time Les has finished his "Come on, Priesty, just time for one more Tequila slammer and a slug of bong water before we go !" pre-match shenanigans.

For the sake of tidiness, previous news items that have slipped below the horizon have been stored here. This area is particularly recommended if you enjoy pointless abuse of rival clubs, their fans and the gutter press.

I've left the following entry here for nostalgic reasons !

17th May 2005
Champions !
Sorry I haven't been able to update the site during this historic period, but I've been unconscious. Allow me to explain: It was Saturday morning, minutes before the Bolton game, when the postman turned up with a registered package from Hong Kong. My curiosity was piqued, but I was immediately distracted by the match kicking off, so I left the package on the hall table.

At half time I lurched to the kitchen to make up yet another jug of my patented cocktail, "Headfuck" (absinthe, vodka, brandy, vermouth and ginger wine, topped up with lager and garnished with a few drops of "Mr Muscle" kitchen cleaner). On the way back I noticed the parcel and made what turned out to be the fateful decision to open it. Inside was a plastic container of Johnson's Baby Powder. Naturally I opened the lid in order to breathe in the unique perfume that is so redolent of one's childhood. You don't need me to tell you what happened next, do you, readers ? Yes, that's right - it turns out that the "baby powder" was none other than 100% pure crystal methamphetamine !

I'm afraid the next few days are a blank - I came to my senses on Wednesday and the house looked like it had been trashed by a pack of insane gorillas. My wife was lying trussed up in the bath with what appeared to be pieces of celery protruding from every orifice. Ominously - and far more worryingly - there was no sign of the cat. I was completely mystified as to how I could have ended up in this situation until the phone rang.

Some of my more clued-up readers will have already guessed that it was Dr Les. "Evening, Priesty", he yelled, "Did you get the parcel ? What ever you do, don't open it - I'm coming over in a couple of weeks and will explain all when I get there !" Words failed me then, as they do now.. The man is an utter moron, but in his defence, if there is a better way of celebrating fifty years without a title, I would like to know what it is..

Other Rants

There seems to be some confusion about why I constantly take the piss out of the great Man Utd. Some say it's jealousy and envy. Others say I'm just a bad loser and a complete arsehole for taking the name of the greatest club that ever lived in vain. To answer the charges one by one: I'm not jealous or envious, at least not of people who follow Man U just because they're successful; I am a bad loser; I don't think I'm an arsehole, at least not completely. Clearly it's time to nail my colours to the mast with a ManuMission Statement.

Anatomy of a Sacking - a Chelsea fan's diary for a week that will live in infamy (probably). If you want to know what I think about the Vialli business, this is where to look.

Some of you may be wondering why I haven't updated my fixtures page this season. You will probably be unsurprised when I tell you that it all comes down to money. More....more

ZIGGER ZAGGER ! Anyone hearing those words sung at a football match involving Chelsea between 1960 and the mid eighties will have heard the voice of the great Mick Greenaway, a true Chelsea legend, who passed away on the 22nd of August 1999. This is my tribute to him.

The Archive

July 2007 - December 2007
February 2007 - June 2007
May 2005 - November 2006
March 2005 - April 2005
October 2004 - March 2005
July - October 2004
July 2003 - June 2004
January - June 2003
June - December 2002
May 2002

Other pages on this site
Rants and Reasons
Next you can delve into my psyche as I explain the ethos behind the site, or, if you prefer, check out the opinionated drivel in the padded room, where I let off steam about the events, mostly comical, but sometimes bewildering or downright shameful, that punctuate the life of a Chelsea fan.
Cacky Boy Donut
By popular demand, the world's grumpiest Chelsea fan, Dr. Les, now has his own section on the site - a must for anybody with mental problems.. And if that's not enough, here's the Worst Of Dr Les..

I have no official connection with Chelsea Football Club.
This site is a personal tribute. All opinions are my own, and are the result of a
disturbed childhood which severely stunted my mental development.
To quote Friedrich Nietzsche: "He who fights with monsters might take care lest
he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss
gazes also into you."
Dead right. He used to stand in the Shed, you know.

A whopping pairs of nuts injured on the turnstiles since 12th June 2007.
"I'll fight Lloyd Honeyghan for nothing if the price is right"
Marlon Starling.

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