Seasonal songs of praise

The rest of us might be looking on in wonder as Chelsea are transformed into a tough, resilient, well-organised fighting force. But on the very evening that his side went second, yon Jock McChump was dialling up to complain.

On Sunday, it transpired he wasn't the only one. With that Dutch ability to start a fight for any reason, anywhere (what makes these people so stroppy?), Jimmy Floyd Hasselbaink chose this, of all moments, to slag off Ranieri.

Apparently, ever since the striker was linked with Barcelona, his boss has been beastly to him. So now Hasselbaink's throwing his toys right out of the Stamford Bridge pram.

How dumb can you get? A year ago, when Hasselbaink was scoring for fun, and Ranieri's grasp of tactics was as weak as his grasp of English, the striker could have got away with moaning.

Now, with Ranieri proving all his critics wrong, Hasselbaink just looks like a spoiled brat.

As for the whingeing fan, if you want to see proper tactical naivety, just go down to Fulham Broadway, get on the District Line, and go to Upton Park.

On the way, sing my second Chelsea ditty, to the tune of The Holly and the Ivy.

The little Frankie Zola When he is fully grown If he's this good at five-foot-three He'd be great at six-foot-one

NOW here is a Silent Night tribute to England manager Sven-Goran Eriksson. Let's hear it, a one, two, three . . .

Silent Sven, Swedish Sven, He says nothing, even when England are hopeless against Brazil

Watching those plonkers is making me ill

Hoof it and hope for the best Hoof it and hope for the best Silent Sven, Swedish Sven Four-four-two, again and again Crude and boring and nothing out wide

That is Eriksson's England side Hoof it and hope for the best Hoof it and hope for the best

A TEAM-SHEET with Laurent Blanc's name on it is basically an 11-man suicide note. The moment the old French slow-coach was sidelined, and Manchester United were forced to play a young, speedy back-four (well, three, plus Gary Neville), their defensive record improved.

But to judge by recent matches, Alex Ferguson is itching to bring Blanc back.

Why? Ferguson has always been ruthless in the past - just ask Paul Ince or Jaap Stam.

If Blanc had simply failed, Fergie would happily drop or sell him. But this time the blame lies with Fergie himself, for buying and selecting Blanc in the first place. And since Fergie has a belief in personal infallibility which makes the Pope look like a broad-minded democrat, he may find it hard to admit he was wrong.

So Blanc could yet be more than a last-minute substitute. And Arsene Wenger can sleep easier at night.

Speaking of Monsieur Wenger

Hark the happy Gooners sing "Glory to Arsene the King" They're on top the Premiership But will they let their lead slip? Joyful I think they will be They are much too good, you see Hark the happy Gooners say "We'll be top in early May!"

ONE thing is certain, Tottenham won't be anywhere near the top of the tree come that time of the year. However, they've still got every reason to celebrate this Christmas.

God rest ye merry Tottenham Do not be nervous wrecks You're bound to win some silverware

In this life or the next For you are led by Hod the God Who studies mystic texts Glad tidings of Buddha and Glenn

Buddha and Glenn Glad tidings of Buddha and Glenn

FINALLY, a re-working of a modern carol, Slade's Merry Xmas Everybody. I'd like to dedicate it to the lads in claret and blue. Ho, ho, ho!

Are you looking at the writing on the wall?

Does it tell you that West Ham are gonna fall?

Have you heard a red-faced Roeder

Swear the next game he will win? Then we chuck another fixture in the bin.

So here it is West Ham's Christmas

And it's not a lot of fun Look to the future now It's called Division One

This missed opportunity makes me feel blue

On Sunday afternoon, I drove my teenage daughters to the Wembley Arena to spend 90 minutes screaming at the boy-band Blue. We parked at the top of Wembley's multi-storey car-park directly opposite the wrecked shell of Wembley Stadium.

It's a miserable sight. The twin towers are still standing, and about a third of the stands. But the sense of desolation is overwhelming.

At one end of the ground, about 25 diggers were parked. Presumably, they're going to scoop out the gigantic hole into which £750million quid will be dumped.

What a waste of money. And what insanity that the stadium cannot, according to Brent Council, be used for Tottenham or Arsenal.

The FA will bankrupt itself building an overpriced national stadium that no one really wants. Meanwhile, the Gunners are blowing more than four times their annual turnover on a £300m ground at Ashburton Grove. And now there's talk of a new home for Spurs. That's at least £1.3billion's worth of new stadia, just in North London.

How can that make financial sense? Why not build one fantastic stadium which Spurs and Arsenal could share (that's good enough for AC Milan and Inter), and which England could use when they played in London?

That's the sane solution. Which is why, in the lunatic world of football, it couldn't possibly happen.