7 Things to Remind Jose Mourinho That Life Isn't All Bad

Hey, Jose, how's it going mate? Bad? Is it going bad, Jose? I know you won't answer me with anything but blank non-statements, but I can tell it's going bad. I have eyes in my head to see all the terrible things: the Premier League table, the ever-unfolding Eva Carneiro saga, the look on your face that resembles an elderly man lost in a hedge maze.

So I've come bearing tidings of joy. While things may seem bad today, there are many reasons to believe that tomorrow, next week and next year will all be brighter. Consider this a little emotional first-aid kit, with mood bandages and psychological paracetamol. Read on and take comfort, gentle Jose – it could be so much worse.

My cousin Richard doesn't like football at all and barely knows who you are. He refers to you as 'Marina' and has no idea what club you manage. Your current failures mean nothing to him, just like they mean nothing to everyone who works at NASA, small tribes living in largely untouched regions of Africa, and Liza Minelli. All of these people will treat you the same now as they would have the day you sealed the league. Which is to say, as a stranger.

20,000 British troops lost their lives on the first day alone, yet you're still worried about Fabregas' declining pass completion statistics? Get some perspective, Jose!

When my gran sighs sadly and says "I've nothing left to look forward to" I put on my softest voice and agree with her, because she's 89 and it's true. But then I'm sure to remind her that she has a wonderful life behind her to look back on and enjoy from the comfort of her armchair, or by the window if someone helps her up. Just like my gran, your best days may well be behind you, Jose, but you too can sit quietly and reflect on a lifetime of great achievements: two Champions League triumphs, eight domestic titles across four nations, and a fabulous range of tasteful merchandise that will last forever.

Cliff Richard, for example, has been re-interviewed by police investigating alleged sexual assaults. Wouldn't want to swap places with him, would you Jose?

And he has no money to get home having spent it all on a scarf with pockets. Heartbreaking.

History has a habit of only remembering the real monsters, meaning you'd have to commit an act of huge human atrocity for people to still whisper your name in hushed tones a thousand years from now. Mismanaging Eden Hazard? Try massacring whole civilian populations as you rampage across Asia. Try being Genghis Khan, Jose – then we'll talk.

Okay, maybe we're pushing the boundaries of reality a bit now.