Tommy Robinson is said to be going to Villa Park as a Maccabi Tel Aviv fan. Do the politicians jumping on this bandwagon care what they are doing

Manchester United’s striker is a topic of context-free condemnation as social media’s sluice of aggravation sinks us all

The first thing you need to do is find a photo of Rasmus Højlund looking happy in a Napoli shirt. There you are. Now you find a photo of Benjamin Sesko looking sad in a Manchester United shirt. Like he’s just missed an open goal. No, obviously you don’t need to find a photo of him missing an open goal. The less context here, the better. Now pop the photos side by side. Overlay the goal stats in big buffoonish font. Don’t forget the emojis. Post to all social media channels.

Will you mention that Højlund’s tally includes goals in the Champions League while Sesko is not competing in Europe at all? You will not. Nor will you mention that four of Højlund’s goals have come against Belarus and Greece, or the fact that Denmark are a much better team than Slovenia and create many more chances. You run socials for a big media brand, pure liquid engagement is what puts food on your table, United are the biggest meal of all, and as ever, context will be your sworn enemy.

For some, she was a hero. For others, quite the opposite. On 13 October, the prime minister who looms large over British politics would have turned 100 – and a gathering in Grantham celebrated her days in power

The bronze statue of Margaret Thatcher by the sculptor Douglas Jennings has a rating of 2.8 out of five on Google Maps. Although curiously, none of the reviewers seems to have overly preoccupied themselves with the quality of the craftsmanship or the fidelity of the likeness. “One of the most important PMs this country ever had,” writes one. “It’s a public toilet but there’s nowhere to wash your hands,” writes another.

The statue was originally commissioned more than a decade ago, and was intended to stand in front of the Houses of Parliament, but Westminster city council rejected it on the grounds that it might become a target for vandalism. Instead, it was offered to her birthplace of Grantham, a town she left at the age of 18 and rarely visited again. Within hours of its installation, someone threw an egg at it. Shortly after that, it was defaced with red paint. And now, on a grey October afternoon, Margaret Thatcher herself is gazing upon it, bearing a look of pure disgust.