Close your eyes. Picture a team capable of beating the world.

In goal, Thibaut Courtois. Back four, from left, Cesar Azpilicueta, John Terry, Gary Cahill and Branislav Ivanovic.

Ahead of them, Cesc Fabregas and Nemanja Matic. In front of them, Oscar. Alongside him, to the left, Eden Hazard.

Two positions to fill; the guy up front, and the geezer on the right.

If you had all the money in the world, and could buy anyone you want, would you choose, Diego Costa and Willian?

Or might you, perhaps, complete the line-up by stealing Sergio Aguero from City and Lionel Messi from Barca?

Seriously, factor them into the Chelsea team, and every opponent would simply melt away.

Perhaps that’s being hard on Costa, who scored against West Brom last weekend, and who is simply majestic now that the SW6 medical team has mended his hamstring.

And maybe it’s also being harsh on Willian, on target in Tuesday night’s 5-0 whitewash of Schalke in Germany; a victory that instantly propels the Blues into the last 16 of the Champions League.

So what point am I making? Simply that Chelsea are a whisker away from being the finest match-winning, entertaining, glorious-to-watch outfit on the planet.

From back to front there are only a couple of positions you might possibly substitute, which underlines the majesty and authority of this exhilarating crop of boys in blue.

The first half of the weekend’s clinical bulldozing of West Brom was Chelsea’s finest display of keep-ball, passing and strategy I have witnessed since I watched my very first game, alongside my old man, on one of the splintery wooden benches that used to sit in front of the west stand in the mid-60s.

What must Gus Poyet be thinking as he readies Sunderland to face his old team this weekend?

Can he identify any chinks in the Blues’ armour? I’m blowed if I can.