The Premier League is back: welcome to the new era of post-verdict unreality Ronay

It turns out you were right. It was actually a simulation all along.

Now, talk to me about chemtrails again. And yes, maybe Vinícius Júniorhasbeen 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 ofa 10-year sham supremacy, the first question is fairly simple. How is it going to feel?

There is no precedent for this. Even the state of total confusion feels brittle given City maintain their complete state of innocence and deny all charges.

We await the release of Irrefutable Body of Evidence, the great lost Madonna erotic thriller sequel, presumably recast around a steamy three-year regulatory tribunal scenario. City's appeal defence appears to be based around the government giving them money.

This may or may not be related to how you control what the high court considers admissible. But it is also implied confirmation that the club is the propaganda tool of an overseas state, that Kyle Walker, for example, has basically been a civil servant all these years.

Maybe the United Arab Emirates should have six stars on the national team jersey, one for each title. Beyond this there is the more basic issue of how to present this spectacle as entertainment.

How do you structure a Match of the Day now? What's the balance in the edit of bus-rage, taunting banner clips, managerial evasiveness content, versus the trivial stuff on the pitch with the balls and goals and men in shorts?