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Posted: August 19th 2008
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There’s a new dance craze that’s sweepin’ the nation,
It’s called the Chelsea Shuffle and it’s causin’ irritation.
Okay, so I won’t be writing songs for a living, but as a confirmed member f the ABC club (Anyone but Chelsea) since long before Roman steered his pleasure boat up the Thames, I’ve got ‘em in my sights again.
And what, you may ask, is bothering me now?
Well, I’m sure this particular annoyance is happening all over the upper reaches of the Premiership and Europe and it is particularly noticeable where a dozen or so millionaires gather together.
Against my better judgement, having piled the weekly shop into the fridge, I thought I’d see if Portsmouth could bloody the blue Satan’s nose. No such luck, they were already a goal down and would fold hopelessly before the day was through.
What caught my eye was the celebration to one of the goals (it may have been the celebration to all of the goals?). It’s something that Chelsea must be practising. The Chelsea shuffle.
The rules are easy, a millionaire scores a reasonable goal and ten other millionaires and any spare ones you may have on the bench go towards them. Now here’s the important bit, so pay attention. You don’t run towards the goal scorer, that would imply that the goal was a surprise or crucial in some way. You trot, you smile, you link arms with a fellow millionaire, and you gather round the goal scorer draping a casual arm around him and milk the adoration of the masses. You may like to add a shrug to the fans, something that conveys the message ‘well, of course we’ve scored’.
The goal scorer himself is allowed to embellish the shuffle, it’s important that you’ve got to the nearest corner flag; this is a possible prop to your celebration. Frank, terminal badge kisser of previous seasons now will kiss the obligatory ring and point to the sky where his dear ol’ mum is watching (or maybe he knows someone in one of the £10 million corporates?). Michael would puff his chest out and thrust his chin while Nicholas reveals his lifelong devotion to Gulliver from the Fingerbobs with his celebration (altogether now, Yoffy sticks his bottom lip out and Anelka appears).
Like revellers leaving the Last Night of the Proms, they saunter back to there half of the pitch. Some ten minutes after the shuffle began they are ready to play football again.
I know this is unbalanced, biased and exaggerated, Chelsea by all accounts played sublime football in the first half and I do like Big Phil, but I will relentlessly be searching for any reason to put the boot in.
Now that’s Football!