Any minute now I’m expecting to see imposing Siberian shadows and a knock at the door.

You see, I’ve just done the unthinkable – I’ve dropped Fernando Torres.

He who must never been left out will be surplus to the requirements of my fantasy team this weekend.

I’ve kept playing him game after game, believing that one day – any day – he will come good. My patience has now run out.

Oh, if only Roberto Di Matteo could have enjoyed the same luxury.

But all the money in the world – and the axed Italian has hardly swapped Stamford Bridge for a cardboard box under Tower Bridge – could not buy that power when you’re manager of Chelsea. The name Torres was written in blood on the team sheet.

Nobody has dared to go against Roman Abramovich and ditch the over-indulged, under-performing striker. Nobody wants to tell the Russian oligarch that he might as well have thrown £50m into the fire when he snatched the misfiring Spaniard from a disbelieving Liverpool.

Forget the Australian bush, the real jungle is a certain boardroom in West London. “I’m a Chelsea manager, get me out of here” ...

Now there’s an idea for a reality programme. Throw a dozen names into the hat and give them three weeks under the whim of Abramovich and his iron rule.

Welcome to the land of rats, snakes and creepy crawlies that go bump in the night. Rafa, Roberto, Pep, Harry, Jose, Andre, Guus, Carlo, Felipe, Avram, Ray and, of course, Helen Flanagan.

Maybe, whiny Helen would be the best shout for the job. At least she’d give up before the first game even kicked off, sparing the rest of us the pretence that the Chelsea manager is actually in control of what is going on.

Monopoly-style pay-out aside, Di Matteo might wish he had told Abramovich to “shove it” when he was placed in caretaker command back in March.

Abramovich didn’t really want him, even then. He was keen to install Benitez but was advised against it by a board wary of an angry reaction from the Chelsea faithful.

How awkward is that, the owner not getting what he was after because of those pesky people who occupy his over-priced seats. How dare they play a part in the decision-making!

So it was a broody boss man who reluctantly handed Di Matteo the reins in the wake of the failed AVB “project”.

The fact that the fill-in gaffer only went and won the Champions’ League made the situation all the more awkward.

Di Matteo knew it, of course. His kingdom was built on sand despite delivering the one prize that Abramovich has craved since he buried Chelsea under a mountain of roubles.

Even as he climbed the steps of the Allianz Arena to lift the trophy and screamed “I did it” towards his owner, Di Matteo had a good idea it was only a stay of execution. A pretty impressive one, it has to be said.

So it was inevitable once the early-season sheen disappeared from Chelsea’s play, the clock began ticking loudly.

It seems his fate was settled before Tuesday’s chastening 3-0 defeat to Juventus that proved to be his final act.

And all along there was that running theme about the centre forward. Hero for one night in Barcelona but zero every other Saturday in England.

Rafa is the only Premier League manager who has made Torres tick. His task now is to rediscover that player who once used to fill opposition defenders – rather than his own fans – with dread.

Me personally, I’d rather eat kangaroo parts and sleep overnight on a bed of cockroaches. At least that challenge is doable.