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Brave little Chelsea overcome the odds to defy Barcelona

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Plucky little Chelsea Football Club, from the tiny English countryside town of London, rolled up their sleeves and mounted a dogged, British Bulldog performance to turn back the endless attacks of Barcelona tonight in the Champions League semi final, first leg match. Chelsea rode their luck and somehow defied the odds to come out with a priceless 1-0 victory.


The Chelsea team, barely worth £204 million spread amongst the eleven starting players, were forced to play with their backs to the wall all night, at home. They chose this tactic as they knew they simply couldn't match Barcelona's team of home grown players, brought up through years of refinement in the Barcelona youth side. All little Chelsea could do was stuff their own penalty box with blue jerseys and pray they didn't have to dip into their bench, and £50 million striker Fernando Torres, who barely anyone has even see play before.


Impish midfielder Frankie Lampard, who was practically free when he came from West Ham for only £14 million in 2001, summed the feelings of the bohemian, rebellious and braveheart Chelsea dressing room when he said

''You ever see a bus, like, gaffa? Well, basically, we parked two of 'em, right in front of the goal, we did! Worked a bleedin' treat it did, guvnah!''




Little Didier Drogba epitomized the 'stiff upper lip' spirit, as he rode endless cynical challenges that nearly left the poor lad maimed for life, barely showing any signs of pain at all, indeed once heard clearly on camera shouting
'No, I do not want treatment! I am fine! That tackle didn't hurt at all! I will carry onwards, manfully!'.
The cheeky little Ivorian, who Chelsea paid only £32 million for, was like a boxer rolling with the punches, as the sneaky Spaniards spent the whole night trying to end his career with brutal tackle after tackle.




Chelsea's heroic struggle against the odds will be a shining beacon to all teams that spend hundreds of millions in the transfer market, yet can't win any trophies. The answer is simple. Don't bother trying to play football, just pack the box with your own, millionaire playboy defenders, I mean, players, and pray the other team hits the woodwork two or three times and doesn't score despite out-shooting you 12-4.

On your patch.

In front of your fans.

Pathetic.



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