It is generally accepted that it is on miserable, unappealing afternoons such as yesterday's that Chelsea's title credentials will either be reaffirmed or exposed as of rather dubious substance.

The suspicion has always been that any team which is stuffed to the gills with foreign players will hardly relish the prospect of standing toe to toe with a bunch of desperate northerners when the wind is blowing and the rain is cascading down.

This, quite possibly, was a suitable occasion to trot out those old cliches about northern grit and southern softies, the classic footballing argument which spans generations and which divides a nation. Yesterday, Everton's spirit carried them to a fourth win in five Premiership games. Chelsea's lack of spirit condemned them to a seventh League defeat. End of story.

Chelsea manager Ruud Gullit was angry and he has every right to so be. "We were sloppy and you can't be like that at this level," he said. "Good teams don't give things away, but we did today. Everton deserved to win the game and now, in terms of the Championship, we have a lot to do."

In truth, Chelsea could have won as comfortably as they eventually lost. Everton often threatened to extend the traditional Scouse hospitality some considerable way beyond its accepted parameters. Indeed, so overbearingly generous were they, particularly during a dour first half, Chelsea were not required to add diligence to technique, they simply waited for possession to be presented to them.

Everton's midfield began to resemble a soup kitchen, happily doling out sustenance and good wishes to any Chelsea player with that needy look. That Chelsea did not profit, or even shape up to take full advantage, was mystifying for Everton could barely conceal the fact that they were there for the taking.

It was an unforgivable timidity which Gullit's men were ultimately to regret. This was a poor game in poor conditions and one which did not yield a genuine chance until Chelsea deservedly moved in front eight minutes before half time.

Chelsea's goal represented such a shining beacon in the thickening gloom that even the Everton faithful must have been tempted to applaud. It was a messy goal but that, perhaps, was inevitable. Steve Clarke's cross from the left prompted panic and while Tore Andre Flo's initial effort was blocked by Carl Tiler, he displayed sufficient presence of mind to push home at the second attempt.

Astonishingly, Chelsea's lead was to last barely three minutes. Again it was an untidy affair, Gary Speed turning in from an unsympathetic angle as French forward Mickael Madar protested furiously that his header had been prevented from crossing the line by Frank Sinclair's outstretched arm.

Thereafter, Chelsea continued to hold both sway and much of the possession but, significantly, the better of the opportunities were beginning to fall to Everton feet. Duncan Ferguson and Madar were to be denied by rather fortuitous deflections before Chelsea's resolve - as Gullit later conceded - began to weaken.

Just after the hour Ferguson threaded his way through a crowded penalty area to reach Nick Barmby's corner and send home a firm header. It was a telling blow from which Chelsea were never to recover.

Even so, it took a bizarre own goal by Michael Duberry with just seven minutes remaining - a swerving drive which fell just inside a post - to confirm that this was to be Everton's day and, quite possibly, not Chelsea's season.