Fernando Torres Struggling in London

In writing this, right before my beloved Chelsea's crucial Champion's League game against FC Copenhagen, I appreciate I am taking a bit of a risk.

If I say that Fernando Torres is crap now, and that the only word fit to describe the sheer scale of the waste of money that his purchase by Abramovich will turn out to have been is one I just made up and it's "Shevchenko-esque", then, should he score a hat trick not only will I look like a damn fool, but I'll have to be pleased about it. It won't necessarily make me like him though - I've been hating Ashley Cole for years and he plays well for us all the time. Shit, he even sometimes plays well for England. The pony is not for turning.

In order to mitigate this risk, I have chosen to focus on an aspect of Fernando Torres about which I definitely can't be proven wrong - how much of a whiny little gimp the bloody manchild is.

As you may have seen reported yesterday, Torres is attributing his lacklustre performance since joining Chelsea to how hard he is finding it having to live in Chelsea.

This is very weird, because I have always held one belief to be true above all others, and that is that Chelsea is a much nicer place to live than fucking Liverpool. Honestly, it's really good - the bin men come three times a week. If you live in Liverpool, chances are the bin men never come, because bin men by their very definition have jobs as bin men, and everybody knows from the football chants that nobody in Liverpool has a job as anything.

Why is he finding it so hard then, if his bins are being emptied three times a week? Do Spanish people not spend as much time obsessing about having their bins emptied as English people?

Well, he claims he is "in awe" of living in the capital. Which is the kind of thing you might expect Susan Boyle or someone to say, you know, someone from some kind of weird, inbred hamlet, but he's from fucking Madrid! That is also "the capital". In that it's the capital of Spain (just clarifying that in case anybody who went to school in Liverpool accidentally ends up reading this).

He goes on to say that if the traffic (which they don't have in Madrid, or Liverpool... Well, they probably don't so much in Liverpool because all the cars are up on bricks and... Oh, alright, I'll stop it) is good it takes him forty minutes to get to training (Chelsea's training ground isn't in Chelsea. Neither is their stadium, actually, but we'll gloss over that), but some days it can take ages. Bloody hell. Imagine that, a commute that takes forty minutes or sometimes, even longer. Sometimes, ages.

Well, you probably can imagine that. You've probably done that. You've probably done that today. Except, at the end of your journey you probably got to do something you hated for shit money, whereas he gets to play football for shedloads of the stuff. And yet, I bet you didn't piss and whine about it half as much as this nancy boy... Imagine if he had to work in a fucking call centre? He'd have a fucking breakdown every morning.

Torres has also complained of the rigours of having to "do paperwork" and "find somewhere to live". Well, yes, those things do suck, too, much like the commuting, but I suspect they suck a lot less when the paperwork is a record breakingly large Premiership contract and the finding somewhere to live involves picking out a fucking mansion. I'd quite enjoy spending a day or so doing things like that. God, I used to just think he looked like a woman (specifically Britney Spears, circa 2001), but now we know he whinges on like one too.

If this is how much these things upset him, imagine how hard Torres is going to cry when John Terry shags his wife?

Good luck tomorrow night though, lad.