Like Manchester United's dismal form, Jude Bellingham's arrogance knows no bounds.
With all the charm and class of a Tuesday afternoon at a Blackpool strip club, he was sent off at the weekend after telling a La Liga referee to "f*** off", days after bellowing "f*** you" in the ear of a linesman like some under-spanked brat throwing a tantrum because Mum told him to put the Haribos back.
He's got more holier-than-thou energy than Greta Thunberg at a climate summit, and struts around like footballing royalty, convinced he can bark at 'the plebs' just because he's bagged a few tap-ins for a club with more disproportionate wealth in Spain than Jeff Bezos at a car boot sale.
But of course, in his mind, he's the victim in all this. He whinged about the decision and claimed in a statement, "there was no insult", which is like Chelsea claiming "there is no goalkeeping crisis".
Someone really ought to teach him some humility, because his ego is far too big. He's not just drinking the entitlement Kool-Aid - he's chugging it down like Jack Grealish at a lockdown party, and is at the throbbing, narcissistic heart of the growing attitude problem at Real Madrid.
Gary Neville needs to be taken off United commentary like Wayne Rooney needs to be taken off Championship manager shortlists. After James Maddison scored Tottenham's winner on Sunday, G-Nev sulked in silence for about 30 seconds, then spent the rest of the broadcast moaning like Roy Keane being forced to watch a TikTok dance.
He's incapable of working a match without his 'Yanited' goggles welded on. It's not that he's biased per se; he's just too self-absorbed to realise that people might fancy, oh I don't know, hearing about the other team every now and then.
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