Mo Salah branded ‘smug’ for his ‘midlife disaster’ Liverpool objective celebrations

Mohamed Salah‘s smug goal celebrations are really starting to p*** me off.

I get it, he’s in the form of his life, and making his employers look like bigger mugs than the one I assume Sean Dyche uses to scoop gravel up from his driveway for breakfast every morning by not extending his contract. But does he have to be so annoying about it?

He either pouts his lips like a 13-year-old girl in a photo booth with her ‘bezzies’, or, like against Manchester United, whips out a self-satisfied smirk that even Katie Hopkins would cringe at.

It’d make sense if he was in his early twenties – footballers at that age have egos the size of Harry Maguire’s slab of a forehead. But Salah’s a father-of-two with a questionable hairline.

The fact that he is becoming more – not less – of an arrogant sod in his mid-30s has serious midlife crisis energy, the kind that gives Simon Cowell and his blindingly white teeth a run for their money.

Maupain in the backside

Neal Maupay is a bigger a*se than Yaya Toure’s and Eden Hazard’s put together! The failed former Everton striker has been petulantly slagging the Toffees off since his departure in August, and honestly, it’s more embarrassing than Trent Alexander-Arnold’s defending on Sunday.

Like an obsessive, crazed ex, he’s spent more time taking swipes at Everton on social media than he has posting about his new ‘squeeze’, Marseille. And all his “#sickburns” ever do is make him look like a petty, insecure little twerp – like Jose Mourinho after any given defeat.

He’s the walking, talking embodiment of main character syndrome, which is bonkers when you consider the fact he’s only hit double figures in a top-flight season once in his career, which at this point has been about as forgettable as the Cheeky Girls.

In reality, he’s nothing but an overpaid extra with more delusions of grandeur than Sol ‘I deserve a knighthood’ Campbell.

‘We all dream of a team of Ally McCoists’

Ally McCoist is brilliant isn’t he? But all he does is remind me that the standard of co-commentary in this country is like Timo Werner’s shooting – hilariously woeful and for absolutely no good reason.

Lucy Ward is solid, if a touch too boring. Gary Neville is decent too, if a little bit too… Gary Neville. But neither of them can hold a candle to McCoist, let alone the rest of their hopeless counterparts.

Between listless Lee Dixon, shrilly Steve McManaman, dozy Danny Murphy, and mother of God where’s the mute button Martin Keown (sorry, “Kyowyn“), British broadcasters have demonstrated that they understand good commentary like Andre Onana understands good goalkeeping.

Landing McCoist must have been a total fluke – but I guess like Manchester United signings, there’s one gem for every 50 duds.