'One Villas-Boas, there's only one Villas-Boas'...

...the Chelsea fans will chant in adoration of their latest, sartorially-elegant manager. Only there isn't: he is one amongst many macho-metrosexual clones on the sporting periphery of our modern world. A man as comfortable pacing the sidelines of a football pitch as he is in the aisles of a L'Occitane boutique. He is also the 8th manager in a crowded Abramovich lineage.

At least it seems that Chelsea have someone who can compete with Jose Mourinho for column inch in a Gap catalogue. At 33, Villas-Boas (which translates exactly as: House-Snakes in Latin) is now the Premiership's youngest ever manager. Could it be that Abramovich has mistakenly believed him to be Xabi Alonso, and is expecting him to distribute majestically from midfield? Not a bit of it: player-coaches are now such a rarity that it is completely impossible to mentally traverse beyond the Atari computer game, Player Manager, with its abundance of gameplay glitches and pixelated Kevin Keegans.

There is another comparison to be made with Villas-Boas: a striking resemblance to Guy Pearce in the film Momento. The similarity may turn out to be more than visual: with less than two years' experience, he may be the managerial equivalent of a short-term amnesiac. A confused demeanor at his first press conference may gradually degenerate to giving team talks from a scribbled note in his pocket, having defensive formations tatooed onto his torso and consulting polaroids with abstract messages on them, such as: 'John T - Do Not Trust'. In declaring this his 'dream job' and willingly playing Russian Roulette, the same perverse accusation finally levelled at Guy Pearce's character could be said for Villas-Boas: he is creating an unnecessary and unsolvable puzzle to give himself purpose.