In an unexpected twist of fate, the weather gods decided to join in on Liverpool's title celebrations, drenching Manchester City fans in a torrential downpour while the visiting supporters danced like they were auditioning for "Sir Paul McCartney: The Musical." As the rain poured, so did the goals, with Liverpool securing an emphatic victory that not even the most optimistic of their fans dared to predict. The scene at the Etihad Stadium was reminiscent of a biblical flood, only this time, it was a flood of blue misery as tens of thousands of Manchester City supporters found their stylishly expensive seats transformed into makeshift water slide attractions. "Next time, we'll bring our own life jackets," joked one drenched City fan, who had traded his jersey for a makeshift poncho fashioned out of a discarded Liverpool flag. Back on the pitch, Liverpool's head coach, Arne Slot, had orchestrated a masterclass in tactics that left Pep Guardiola’s men looking more lost than a toddler in a department store. The moment slot scored from the sidelines with his impeccable duck-and-weave maneuvering, the Sky Blues were left wondering if they were playing football or if this was just an elaborate game of tag. With 90 seconds remaining, the chants of "We're going to win the league!" rang out, reverberating through the emptying stands like a lullaby for the weeping City fans. As the clock ticked down, Liverpool's jubilant supporters were already planning the parade route, while City fans quietly Googled “how to install a roof on a stadium”. The irony of it all was not lost on anyone. A simple rainstorm became a poetic metaphor for Liverpool’s rise and Manchester City’s impending doom. While you could almost hear the collective sigh of resignation from the blue half of Manchester, Liverpool supporters basked not only in their team's success but also in the newfound notoriety of being the best umbrella salesmen in the UK. As the final whistle blew, the narrative shifted from a title fight to a spectacle of sheer hilarity—much like watching a cat trying to catch rain drops on a windy day. Liverpool celebrated amidst their victories, while City’s season seemed more fitting for a tragicomedy than a footballing legacy. In the end, as the waterlogged crowd slowly dispersed, drenched yet defiant, one thing was clear: Liverpool were not just winning titles— they were turning Manchester into the UK's most expensive swimming pool.