Mutu was the golden boy of Romanian football and started well at Chelsea but his stay in England would end in disgrace

Adrian Mutu swings his legs off the mustard-yellow sofa. He picks up his iPhone, his Ray-Ban sunglasses and his car keys. He offers a bright, menacing smile. He knew the questions were coming, but enough, he feels, is enough. “If you ask me about Chelsea again, I will get up and leave,” he says. Still smiling. “I don’t give a f***.”

We have been sitting in the lobby of the Hotel Central, in the heart of Ploiesti, for not far off an hour. A wedding is just getting started in the restaurant next door. What has become clear, in between bursts of traditional Romanian folk music and rhythmic applause, is that Mutu’s boast is not quite true. He may not want to admit it, but