Bridge Over The River Cry?
Anyone who watched Footballers' Wives will remember what a load of nonsense it was: preposterous, shoddy, lowest common denominator entertainment. (I mean how could someone born in the early 1980s have a name like Chardonnay? If you were naming a lass after a drink back then, you'd have called her Hirondelle.)
Still, based on the events at Stamford Bridge on Saturday, I'd say Footballers' Wives was way too naturalistic.
John Terry (the baddie), little Chelsea cherubs in mascots' garb accompanying him, trots out on to the pitch with his jaw set firm. Wayne Bridge, the goodie, head down, getting on with his work like a real honest John. (Thank goodness Cashley's unfit or we'd have had 'Nation's Darling's Love-Rat Husband' to focus on too.)
Terry's been mistiming a lot of things in recent matches but he got the timing perfect on the missing handshake. Hand out, firm and true, while Bridge ghosts by him like Martin Peters in his pomp... out the hand stayed, a picture of small humiliation.
John Terry and Wayne Bridge fail to shake hands
I half-expected Terry to assay an Oliver Hardy glare at the camera as a custard pie slapped across his chops. Although you have to say Terry's hairdresser had already set out to make the skipper look foolish. Why do lads these days go for a haircut that makes 'em look like Beaker from the Muppets?
You had the suspicion that Terry would get over it pretty quickly with three points in the bag, but then the Muppets theme continued as Mikel, Carvalho, Terry and the Gonzo of the goalkeeping world, Hilario, contrived to let Tevez score a goal softer than a sea otter's pelt.
After that, the Blues were mugged by the endeavour of Bellamy and Tevez as Team Bridge triumphed.
I'd be surprised if Carlo Ancelotti persists with the Portuguese keeper. Positionally, he's the equivalent of a roller skate on a staircase. For two of the goals he fell like a picnic blanket in a breeze. It's just too easy to beat the bloke.
As for Bridge, quite why the Chelsea regulars were booing the lad is beyond me. On balance, his decision to bail out of the England squad should be applauded. The thought of Terry and Bridge training together this week ,under the hawkish eye of every man, woman and child with a 2-pixel camera in their phone, was just a bit much to bear. He's saved the team a lot of hassle.
Mind, it'd be interesting to see what Wayne might do if Terry gets a knock that sees him out of the World Cup - although the erstwhile captain's form is so ropey right now, the only way he's going to be on that plane to Jo'burg is if he gets a pilot's licence. It seems clear that the whole farrago is affecting his form and confidence.
A dig from Craig Bellamy is not going to make much of a dent, though. I didn't see Craig mobbed by adoring team-mates after either of his goals, did you? Roberto Mancini's got his hands full there.
Of course, one lad who might push Terry for his England place left the pitch in tears on Saturday. I'm not going to slag off Arsene Wenger or Tony Pulis for their responses to the latest horrible injury to an Arsenal player. Suffice to say, I don't believe Ryan Shawcross's challenge was malicious, and the lad's reaction, as with Martin Taylor on Eduardo, tells you all you need to know about how the perpetrator felt.
It'd be nice to think we could prevent these things happening in a football match, but it's a contact sport and that carries its risks, horrible though Ramsey's injury is. Let's hope he makes a good recovery, as Eduardo appears to have done.
The Carling Cup final got the result no one outside Cornwall wanted. Another United win. The 32nd trophy of the Glaswegian's career. Every time he bags another one, I keep thinking of ringing up his missus - who was after all the one who put him off retiring a while back.
I mean, I wouldn't want the man hanging around me chewing his gum and blowing my hair in me face all day long either, but crikey woman, you could've spared us all a lot of teeth ground down to powder if you'd have just sacrificed yourself a little for the good of the game.
Fergie gets his hands on another trophy
The final reminded me of the Everton-Chelsea FA Cup Final: early goal to the underdogs, but the favourites slowly clasped their hands round the Villans' throats and scored the inevitable winner through a class player.
How Nemanja Vidic was still on the pitch is beyond me, mind. Maybe Dowd was dogged by previous comments from the beknighted one, and me I'd be happy for the centre-half to be booked in them circumstances, but the rules is the rules. Taxi for Mr Vidic. And Villa might have managed to take it to penalties.
Meanwhile, the race for fourth continues apace, and Rafa's back to his whingeing post-match best. I have some sympathy for him, mind. I've never liked the way Sam Allardyce's teams play either. But then I'm not a fan of the way Liverpool play at the moment. It was Ugly v Timid on Sunday and the meek inherited the win somehow.
There's no doubt Steven Nzonzi should have departed early, although flinging Lucas to the ground must have secretly endeared him to lot of Koppites.
But it's been another great weekend for the Premier League. There's a wafer-thin mint between the top three, a fag paper between the next four, and the thickness of a butterfly's wing between 13th and 19th. Who's complaining?