Getting rid of head coach is not going to solve the problems that led to his appointment. Perhaps it’s worth, for once, doing something different

At the final whistle at Elland Road the TV cameras cut to a lingering shot of Manchester United chief executive, Omar Berrada, looking down pensively from the stands, deciding, it is to be hoped, on a little clemency, a re-sheathing of the managerial shotgun.

Here we have the man who hired the man. The man who fires the man. The man who also hired or rehired the previous two men he had to fire. Berrada was poached from Manchester City on the basis of his ability to grow commercial revenue (yes, OK, stop laughing), and appears, like everyone else with any actual reach around here, to exist in a strangely consequence-free bubble.

The former Palace chair seeming very angry indeed about others’ opinions is just par for the course as football’s age of rage ramps up another level

Yet again the mainstream wokealorium is preachifying from its pulpitrex. It’s egregious. It’s sanctiforial. It’s a wangitude of complete retardifaction.

This has not been an easy column to write. It has been difficult, gruelling in parts, but also warm, exhilarating and at times deeply erotic. Yes. I was SAVAGED by Simon Jordan. And I’ve never felt so alive.

As the top flight returns, armed with the knowledge its serial champions have been the authors of a 10-year sham supremacy, the first question is simple: how is it going to feel?

The internet: an apology. It turns out you were right. It was actually a simulation all along. Now, talk to me about chemtrails again. And yes, maybe Vinícius Júnior has been replaced by a handsome, baffled-looking waxwork.

Welcome to the weirdest weekend of them all. We are now post-judgment, post-statement, postlapsarian. As the Premier League prepares to snap back into what must be described, out of habit, as reality, armed with the knowledge its serial champions have been the authors of a 10-year sham supremacy, the first question is fairly simple. How is it going to feel?

On a night where he equalled Peter Shilton’s England appearance record, Harry Kane did what he always does

It is a very Harry Kane kind of thing to equal a record. Respectful, no ego, all about the collective. On a room temperature night at Wembley Stadium Kane duly did this, drawing level with Peter Shilton’s record for England caps, and doing so while delivering a performance of Total Midweek Kane.

There were two neat, slick goals, one in each half, the high points of a 3-0 win against Czechia that all but guarantees a place in the Nations League knockouts. England need one more point in November to be certain. At which point Kane will have the chance to carry on equalling his own new caps record, humbly paying tribute to himself each time, saying, yeah, it’s an honour to share that number with a man like (myself).