How much more can one man take?

Florent Malouda has started to repair the damage he caused to Chelsea’s flash Harry reputation last week by allowing himself to be transported in a taxi when he could have hired a private jet. Instead of getting himself down to Chinawhite to pour bottles of Cristal on the floor, however, M. Malouda has opted for the other popular Chelsea method of rehabilitation: complaining like a spoilt baby.

M. Malouda, who is bravely coping with a sore knee at present, still found an extra ounce of courage to go on record with his thoughts on the indignities professional footballers are forced to suffer. The humiliations he has to endure are as follows:

English football: “brainless”

Players’ diets in England (presumably at the club which is paying him a king’s ransom): “awful”

Training: “terrifying”

His teammates: primitive. “People play by instinct, how they did when they first discovered football.”

An out-of control drinking culture: “You can have whatever you like, Coke or anything”.

And ominously: “I have been warned about the Christmas periods in English football. They sound terrible.”

As most English people can confirm, sitting in front of the television with a sore knee over Christmas while one’s bank account swells by 50 grand a week is a hardship few can endure for long. Get well soon, Florence.