PSG have just won the Champions League playing football so electric it could power a small country – or at least Ben White's tanning bed for a fortnight.
But the second that final whistle blew on Saturday, you'd swear they'd nicked the trophy from a hospice gift shop judging by the sanctimonious meltdowns online. Within moments, fans, pundits and journos alike had morphed into virtue-signalling, quinoa-snorting clout goblins – frothing with more self-righteousness than a Glastonbury vegan food stall.
Every Tom, Dick and Gary with a Twitter account suddenly fancied themselves an ethics lecturer, and began spewing more performative outrage than Mikel Arteta whenever Arsenal concede a throw-in. “Sportswashing! ”, “Blood money! ”, “Petrostate! ” – the usual outrage buzzwords were back, louder and more grating than 30 seconds of uninterrupted Steve McManaman commentary.
Why? Because these joyless cynics – the people who treat success like modern-day Manchester United do: alien, suspicious and probably corrupt – are desperate to prove what a Good Person™ they are.
Yes, PSG are Qatari-owned. But so's Harrods – that overpriced food court where half these critics go to buy their sourdough starter, organic avocados and goose fat bath bombs.
PSG celebrating with the Champions League trophy
Everyone loved PSG... until they actually lifted the cup (Image: AP)
Let's be clear: PSG are the best team in Europe, and they've done it with a bunch of fearless, exciting youngsters – you know, the kind Todd Boehly's Chelsea like to pretend they buy every transfer window.
If you're so outraged by 'dirty money', at least be outraged all season, not just when the confetti falls. Otherwise, you're just a pearl-clutching bore – more exhausting and nauseating than a post-match pint with Piers Morgan.
United's tour turmoil
I never thought I'd type these words but I genuinely pity Manchester United. Just days after limping to the end of a campaign so terrible it made the one the Tories launched ahead of last year's election look effective, the poor sods were carted off to Asia for a post-season tour.
Ruben Amorim and Mason Mount pose during a press conference in Malaysia
Manchester United's post-season tour was nothing more than a shameless cash-grab (Image: Manchester United via Getty Imag)
And lo and behold, it was the most excruciating PR stunt since Prince Andrew sweat-faced his way through that Pizza Express interview.
They even paraded around on an open-top bus in Malaysia, which must have been torture – the sort of torture Rasmus Hojlund inflicted on fans all season by forgetting what a football looks like, never mind how to kick one into a net.
Imagine soiling yourself on a long-haul flight, then holding your stained pants aloft as you stagger down the aisle to the bog. Same energy.
Sir Jim Ratcliffe clearly loves a shameless cash-grab more than Mason Mount loves collecting loyalty points at the physio. But given the tour probably only brought in enough to top up Casemiro's stash of Werther's Originals and pay his National Trust membership, they should've scrapped the whole circus.
Honestly, United needed that trip like Harry Maguire needs forehead enlargement surgery. This is exactly why they're in the mess they’re in.
Like Keir Starmer's gawky government, they obviously care more about looking and sounding good on social media than actually solving problems.