Mané, Sané and Harry Kané: This Weekend in the Premier League

Before we get started, do not read on if you've come for tactics. Do not read on if you expect Opta stats, or earnest commentary on Arsene Wenger's legacy, or a measured critique of Crystal Palace's struggles and the pros and cons of their new 4-3-3. There'll be no heat maps here, my friends, absolutely no discussion of registas and trequartistas.

If that disappoints you, get a subscription to The Times.

There are really only two schools of thought in English football, and they can be separated into: a) people who think it's OK for a player to flying-kick an opponent in the head, and b) people who do not think that. These two schools are irreconcilable; there can be no compromise between them.

The philosophical divide between the two sides was opened once again this weekend, with the sending off of Sadio Mané for a head-height lunge on Manchester City keeper Ederson Santana de Moraes. Liverpool went on to lose 5-0, with exciting young prospects Gabriel Jesus and Leroy Sané scoring two apiece, but in the end all the talk was of whether or not Mané deserved his red card for belting someone in the jaw with his leg.

Under the rules of the game, "a player is guilty of serious foul play if he uses excessive force or brutality against an opponent when challenging for the ball", meaning that Mané's red card was absolutely justified, even if the collision was clearly accidental. This debate transcends the rules of the game, however, as perfectly exemplified by Chris Sutton's column in The Daily Mail. "I know Graham Poll and his referee mates will talk about the letter of the law and dangerous play, but any centre forward or goalscorer HAS to go for that ball," he writes, reserving the same bitterness for referees as other Daily Mail writers do for judges, immigrants and EU bureaucrats.

This is the crux of the dispute over kicking another player in the head, as seen through the eyes of the heavily "pro" faction: either you are on the side of common sense, blood-and-thunder Britishness and incredibly dangerous head-height tackling, or you are a liberal bedwetter who cares too much about the rules and all that refereeing red tape.

What is it about Mark Hughes and the simple handshake? In his post-match interview after Stoke's 2-2 draw with Manchester United this weekend, even he was forced to admit that he has a penchant for "getting involved in handshake-gates… there's quite a few on my CV". Breaking from character as that permanently livid Welsh PE teacher every third person in Britain had at school, he actually chuckled on being asked about his failure to shake hands with Jose Mourinho, almost as if revelling in their public inability to adhere to the most basic social custom of football management. Mourinho was less impressed when asked about the incident, going on a whiny-voiced rant about journalistic standards.

While Mourinho isn't above ignoring the proffered hand of managerial friendship, Hughes has made a fetish out of handshake snubs at this point. He is a handshake heretic; a dissenter against tradition; a man who absolutely cannot bear the passive aggressive grasp of an opponent's digits around his own. Who can forget his extremely petulant handshake battle with Roberto Mancini, or the time Martin Jol pushed him to the edge by attempting a conciliatory pat on the back during their post-match farewell? This time around, Mourinho at least seemed to be the main culprit in the snubbing of the handshake, though that may or may not have something to do with Hughes having earlier told him to fuck off.

Of all the excuses for – allegedly – giving the referee the finger during a match, "the gesture tonight was a joke between me and my good friend Kyle Walker" is surely the GOAT. You have to respect Dele Alli not only for flipping the bird in front of hundreds of television cameras, but also for attempting to pass it off as a little private joke between mates. Raising the middle finger – the universally recognised sign for thinking someone else is a dickhead – is just a "thing" him and Kyle Walker do. You probably wouldn't get it, to be honest. In fact, Dele and Kyle invented giving the finger back in Year 8.

Anyway, if giving the finger really is a sign of good friendship, we can presume that Dele Alli and this Everton fan are truly the best of pals. Nothing says "I love you, man" like two middle fingers raised in mutual respect.

Harry Kane's 35 yard goal against Everton

"That's it from us on a day on which the headlines will be dominated by Mané, Sané and Harry Kané," says Gary Lineker, signing off Match of the Day with a smile. Yer da snorts approvingly at this; he enjoys the musicality of it – the light whimsy of the rhyming scheme – and the gentle undertone of banter soothes his torrid soul. He likes Lineker, he relates to him, even if he tweets him daily asking when he's going to personally rehouse a group of refugees, if he really cares so bloody much. Unlike Lily Allen or JK Rowling, yer da can forgive Lineker his leftie views because, well, World Cup '86; Italia '90; that Gazza moment; three lions on the shirt.

Still, yer da seems perturbed by Match of the Day's parting line. He shifts uncomfortably on the sofa, his jaw tightens and you glimpse him silently mouthing "Harry Kan-é" to himself with special emphasis on the accented "e". Suddenly, his breathing accelerates; he goes red in the face; you haven't seen him this angry since Jeremy Corbyn last failed to bow to the Queen in a timely fashion. He turns to you, eyes aflame with the fury of injustice. "If he really was called Harry Kané," he says, exaggerating the "e" with an indiscernible foreign cadence, "he'd have won the fucking Ballon D'Or by now, guaranteed."

@W_F_Magee