José Mourinho remains one of the true characters in modern football. The Special One has long been a favourite of the British press for his witty aphorisms and outspoken opinions, provoking laughter and criticism in equal measure, but never boredom.

Yet sometimes fans of the sport do wonder: will he ever shut up?

One moment the bloke’s calling his 2013-14 Chelsea squad, one worth £360,300,300 of actual buys-you-houses-and-stuff money, a figurative “little horse that needs milk”.

The next he’s lambasting referees for timidly informing Diego Costa that, contrary to the latter’s belief, it isn’t okay to skewer another player as if they were a kebab from Gardies and not an actual human being with feelings. 

Maybe Mourinho should take a leaf out of Basil Fawlty’s book and tell Michael Oliver, “Sorry, he’s from Barcelona – nope, Brazil. I meant Brazil. Oh he is Spanish? My mistake. No, no, actually, he’s a horse. He’s a little Spanish horse that needs milk. Ergo, he kicks. Horses do kick. What can you do, ey?”

I mean, come on José. There’s only so much you can say as a manager before you’re forced to admit that either you or a player working for you might have made a mistake.

Mourinho does seem to have a perennial sense of delusion when it comes to his team and perceptions of it.

True, people in general don’t really like Chelsea. Ask anyone who isn’t an actual fan and they’ll let you know exactly where the club can go.

After all, Mourinho’s roster only exists because a Russian criminal got bored of super-yachts and decided he needed his own fleshy Subbuteo kit to fiddle with.

Add to the dirty money an assortment of fans more known for their wankery than Dapper Laughs is – some of them, as we now know, are horribly racist – and you’ve got a pretty stinking melting pot of nastiness.

But this is by the by, and as a Manchester United supporter I certainly cannot lay claim to Ariel-white finances or an entirely sane manager. But there is not, as Mourinho would have us believe, a campaign against Chelsea, either among officials or the media.

In footballing terms, they’ve got a lot going for them.

Mourinho has some fantastic players at his disposal – Eden Hazard, Cesc Fàbregas, Thibaut Courtois – players better than most of those they end up facing on a regular basis.

Even the aforementioned Diego “Looks And Acts Like A One-Man Mexican Drug Cartel” Costa is pretty good at sticking it in the net.

To claim that there is a plot to undermine the team just because of a few disciplinary issues on the pitch is rubbish. In doing so, Mourinho just looks like a tinfoil hat conspiracist, one that might find solace in an obscure subreddit, but not the world’s biggest football league.

Yet perhaps this is exactly how he wants us to react. Mourinho is not stupid. I am not stupid, I don’t think – well, maybe I am. Ask my supervisor.

Anyway, in railing against Mourinho’s nonsense, maybe I am simply playing into the man’s hands.

For if the Special One can portray himself as a delusional, stubborn and unrepentant lunatic, it makes it all the easier for idiots like me to focus on the things that don’t matter: the politics, not the football.

And as I grow more and more incensed by Mourinho’s excruciating diatribes, bashing out my own responses for Varsity articles that only my mum reads, I may miss the fact that, all the while, the sly old fox has been quietly winning the bloody league.