Things begin disastrously when Luke Shaw, with absolutely acres of space in front of him down the left, decides to stick his blonde head down towards his toes and plough into a large group of players in the middle of the park. He immediately loses the ball.

Harry Arter, sensing an opportunity and keen to impress his national team assistant manager, Actual Roy Keane, lumps it downfield. Danger.

Six-foot-four Kenneth Zohore is being marked by Mata, who is playing slap bang in the middle of the back three as a kind of libero.

Six-foot-four Zohore shrugs him off like a dehydrated buffalo swatting a fly and bundles the ball past De Gea and into the net. 1-0 Cardiff.

Mata, presumably, is mentally already 100 words deep into his post-match blog.

Things immediately go from bad to worse when Arter, having the game of his life, fluffs in an effort from the edge of the box. De Gea transforms into the Spanish national team De Gea and resembles a drawbridge closing, completely missing the ball as it drifts into the corner. 2-0 Cardiff. 20 minutes gone.

Things are looking ugly for Evil José.

Fortunately, he has Hazard: right wing-back extraordinaire.

Hazard picks up the ball on the right after being fed a typically turgid, sorry square ball by Fellaini. He sprints down the wing, rather than running into the most congested area of the pitch like the giddy child Luke Shaw, swinging in a cross to the far post.

Shaw, by this point is literally doing whatever he likes, is on the goal line to tap in. Comeback on.

Rinse and repeat for the equaliser. Hazard beats four players down the line, whips it in, and guess who is there to read it?

Well, the Cardiff City goalkeeper Smithies. But he fucks it up. He completely fucks it.

And then guess who is there?

It's only Salomon Kalou to knock in the rebound.

Incredibly, United go in at half time 3-2 to the good after Ibrahimovic gets 'shoved', not actually, but in the Manchester United-Howard Webb sense, in the box.

Thankfully, with Pogba dropped, only one man is going to step up and take it. Libero Mata, who tucks home. What a turnaround.

The second half is all United, and they even briefly return to the swashbuckling back-to-front stylings of Ferguson’s best sides. After defending a corner kick, De Gea goes quickly to the midfield, wisely choosing to ignore ball-playing Mata to hit the even-more ball-playing Cattermole. He sprays it out wide to Hazard, gets it back, plays a one-two with the big Ent stomping around in the hole and then switches gloriously again to Shaw.

Shaw has clearly learned a thing or two watching Hazard and sprints to the byline to fire in a flat cross. Ibra pounces. 4-2. They're cruising.

The confidence starts to show. Mata wins a header. Cattermole doesn’t get booked. Fellaini nods yet another great chance over the bar in exquisite Fellaini fashion.

Evil José brings on McTominay and Herrera to shithouse around for the remaining 20, and also tries Sanchez at left wing-back because Shaw is always, always tired after the first half, let alone 70 minutes. It finishes 4-2.

Three points and a man of the match for Eden 'Wing-Back' Hazard.

After the game, Warnock moans to the press about the physicality of Evil José’s side, particularly against Zohore.

He was being marked by Mata.

Whilst this is a huge personal victory for Mourinho, vanquishing his pretender to the throne in Warnock, there is still work to be done in the war against football with the likes of Klopp, Sarri and even Guardiola and his All or Nothing army awaiting.

To be continued...