COLE ENJOYS ORGY OF SHOWBOATING

JOE COLE is a big fan of rhyming slang. And after 75 minutes of this shamefully one-sided romp, he was cream-crackered.

In fact, he looked like he'd been up and down the apples 'n pears a thousand times.

But no one had a bigger smile on his boat race.

Not Frank Lampard, whose renaissance after the briefest of lulls doubled his season's goal tally.

Not Didier Drogba, whose all-round performance - capped with a headed formality - was a 90-minute testimony to all that is now right with his game and his attitude.

Not Michael Essien, whose spectacular strike was merely one small act in a Chelsea carnival.

Not Carlo Ancelotti, for whom this early- evening stroll provided some comforting distraction from far more serious matters back home.

Cole was the one with a beam of floodlight wattage.

He had performed like a kid opening his Christmas presents. Not knowing what to play with and when.

All those pent-up flicks, dinks, dummies, backheels - stored over eight months of injury-enforced inactivity - were released in an orgy of showboating.

Jose Mourinho would probably have booted him halfway down the King's Road.

Ancelotti indulged him.

And it was fantastic to see.

Some things came off, some didn't. He wasn't the best player on the park - not by a distance.

Drogba and Lampard could scrap for that title.

But the high-fives all round when he puffed his way to the dugout with a quarter of an hour left and the standing ovation that reverberated around Stamford Bridge told you what this occasion was all about.

This was the moment - his first Premier League start since January - that Chelsea and England fans have been waiting for.

And it was a return that lifted club and country spirits.

Effervescent

Anticipating his comeback a couple of weeks back, Cole said he was licking his lips at the prospect of playing in the sausage roll.

(Well, he didn't actually say licking his lips but he did say sausage roll.)

The sausage roll is his own improvised, contemporary Cockney rhyming slang. For the hole.

In the hole. Geddit.

Joe wasn't exactly in the hole but he provided more attacking threat in his full return than Deco has in all his appearances this season.

It was clear that Lampard and Michael Ballack relished his effervescent presence.

Ditto Nicolas Anelka and Drogba.

Cole could claim a distant assist for Chelsea's opener, bringing down a Juliano Belletti clearance before shuttling possession to Ballack.

Anelka peeled left and dashed on to the pass before sending a cross into the cluster of onrushing bodies.

And now, it seems, Drogba only has to stare to score. Gael Givet had stolen a march on the Chelsea striker but seized by panic, slid in the own goal. Defensive apologists may call it unlucky, even unavoidable. It was nothing of the sort.

It was poor defending - just as it had been an inexcusably poor cross from Morten Gamst Pedersen that had set the Chelsea counter-attack in motion.

That typified Blackburn's delivery. Worse than the Royal Mail.

When you place so much store on set-pieces - as Rovers did yesterday - then execution is vital.

Brett Emerton was one of the main culprits. It was impractical to log the amount of kicks that flew in isolation towards Petr Cech.

He must have thought his practice routine had not finished. It certainly gave him some misplaced confidence - his spillage from a throw-in giving Chelsea their only anxious first-half moment.

Cech is having an awkward season. It is clear he is trying to rebuild confidence threatened not only by some poor performances for Chelsea but also by the Czech Republic's failure to qualify for the World Cup finals.

He is trying to do it by being a touch more dominant. And with that comes risks.

Against more dangerous opposition, he will always carry a threat to his own team.

LAMPARD: Another goal

Blackburn might have been more dangerous had David Dunn not cried off. Without his creativity, they looked bereft of genuine invention. But Givet's aberration apart, they defended stoutly enough. Well, in the first half at least.

None more stoutly than Paul Robinson - no pun intended, Paul. Honest.

He made himself big - no pun intended again - to deny Anelka after a slick move inspired by Cole and he risked finger-dislocation to divert a strike of eye-popping velocity from Drogba.

Having clicked them back into place, Robinson then produced one for the season's highlights.

Ricardo Carvalho headed into the path of John Terry, who connected sweetly with a kung-fu kick.

As agile a piece of work as you are likely to see somehow kept it out.

Fabio Capello had been at White Hart Lane earlier in the afternoon and decided not to dice with tea-time London traffic. But his No 2 Franco Baldini - as well as filling his notebook full of Cole - was surely impressed with Robinson's performance.

He must be among England's top three form keepers right at this moment.

He didn't have to be on his best form to deal with Lampard's first-half output - prolific as it was.

Buoyed by his first goal for a while in midweek, Lampard's every touch was a shot.

He took the 'If you don't buy a ticket . . . ' adage to ridiculous extremes.

You wouldn't want to be behind Frank in a lottery queue.

But we all know it pays off.

Ease

And, sure enough, his third of the season arrived soon after half-time. Drogba rolled Givet with ridiculous ease, his cut-back was partially cleared and Lampard welcomed the invitation.

A goal that was an advert for Lampard's predatory instincts and Drogba's new-found selflessness. What stuffing had been inside Blackburn was gone.

And even Robinson appeared deflated, floundering for the first time when Essien's long-range strike smuggled itself inside the near post.

In response, Sam Allardyce threw on a couple of subs - his team threw in the towel.

Ryan Nelsen joined the queue of defenders to be humiliated by Drogba. Only the supremely-fit Alan Wiley could keep up, striding alongside when Nelsen tripped the Ivorian.

Lampard - who else? - converted from the spot.

And Drogba - who, and this is not a misprint, later tried to stay on his feet after Robinson rushed out irresponsibly - received his due reward when Ballack's corner and abysmal Rovers defending allowed him to glance home the fifth.

The gap between the two teams was, quite frankly, an embarrassment - even though Blackburn were shorn of numbers.

Not that it bothered Cole.

Blowing desperately for most of the second half, he was finally spared exhaustion when Ancelotti put up his number.

The acclaim from the crowd was thunderous. And there was only one name on their lips as they headed for the rub-a-dub-dub.

Cole, himself, had broken into that wonderful grin before he fell into the arms of his manager.

Ancelotti probably welcomed the hug for different reasons - for Cole, it was an embrace that confirmed he is back doing what he loves.

Playing football with a smile.

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