The Warm-Up: Pep Guardiola's feathers ruffled and Glen Johnson back in from the cold

Given the seismic events at the FA over the last week, it perhaps wasn’t the time for big surprises as Gareth Southgate quickly cobbled together his first squad for the World Cup qualifiers against Malta and…oh, I don’t know – Poland, probably.

Nevertheless, the caretaker couldn’t resist a curveball. The inclusion of Manchester United pair Jesse Lingard and Marcus Rashford could have been predicted safely enough. Less so, the return from the international wilderness (where is that, exactly? Near one of the poles, presumably) of 32-year-old Glen Johnson – last seen at this level trudging on to a homeward-bound plane from the 2014 World Cup.

Can Malta cope with his attempts at cutting in from the right and unleashing a 4/10 left-foot shot to the near post? Let’s see.

Pep Guardiola’s 100% Premier League record before Manchester City’s visit to White Hart Lane was built on the foundations of two things: space and rhythm. Tottenham denied his side both of those things and, in the process, made clear that their batteries are fully recharged after last season’s title-race burnout.

The damage – too extensive for a City reshuffle to repair – was done in an impressively intense first half. Aleksandar Kolarov sliced in an own goal inside ten minutes and Nicolas Otamendi went about fouling anything with a pulse, ably assisted by the hospital passes of Claudio Bravo as Guardiola’s immutable philosophy got a right royal seeing-to.

Dele Alli’s ultimately game-settling goal, eight minutes before half time, was particularly pleasing for England ahead of the international break. Son Heung-min’s pass found Alli’s uncannily Lampardian penalty-area run, the finish was similarly tidy, and a wholesome, well-earned three points were in the bag. Even an Erik Lamela penalty miss couldn’t inspire the visitors into a late comeback.

City’s second-half response was at least purposeful – their undimming boldness with the ball in risky areas remains a feather in their cap – but, as Spurs demonstrated, the Premier League is too strong this season to be steamrollered.

The Telegraph’s series of scoops, with its grainy footage of various Proper Football Men candidly talking shop, has finally reached its conclusion after a week’s worth of headlines, muddled denials and the demise of Sam Allardyce.

The late arrival of Harry Redknapp on the scene was the subject of some internet mirth, naturally, particularly when he himself revealed that the print industry’s cost-cutting measures extended even to undercover reporters.

The man at the heart of the revelations – the suspiciously fictional-sounding agent Pini Pagliara – was the suitable caricature with which to draw the whole tawdry saga to a close.

Rather than open-mouthed disbelief, the football community seems to have reacted to the fruits of the Telegraph’s covert labour with a collective shrug of the shoulders. The authorities – both footballing and governmental – have promised to follow up on the range of allegations.

The chances are that their judgements will be forthcoming long after the average fan has ceased to care about second-tier assistant managers topping up their pensions.

The triple save is essentially the better-looking, richer, luckier cousin of the almighty goalmouth scramble. Goalkeepers don’t have much chance to shine, but they occasionally have a Matrix-style moment where the ball is almost drawn to them, no matter which desperate limb they stick out. \

This weekend, the goalkeeping gods were smiling on well-travelled French veteran Jean-François Bédénik of fifth-tier outfit Vannes OC, as he faced a penalty against TA Rennes. Such is the immediacy of modern life, you’ve probably already seen it, but…

The penalty alone is a curious sight – Bédénik is sent the wrong way, only for the ball to hit the post and then plonk itself on his unwitting back. The rebound eventually sits up nicely for the penalty taker, who races in to nod home and save his blushes…only for Bédénik to instinctively kick his effort away. So far, so unorthodox. Finally, surely, Rennes look like finishing their shoddy job – only for the 37-year-old to claw the ball away before it’s hacked to safety.

We’re used to seeing goalkeepers mark penalty saves with an overearnest, straight-faced demand for their defenders to get back into position, but Bédénik celebrates his heroics like a man who suspects he’s about to be retweeted 5,000 times.

If Tottenham fans were concerned about the Harry Kane-shaped void at the spearhead of their tireless team, the 90th-minute standing ovation for his deputy suggested they were now at ease. Son Heung-min may not have scored – his pass for Alli’s goal was more than adequate – but he produced as good an all-round performance up front as anything Kane has mustered recently.

For a player apparently not accustomed to the no.9 role, Son looks alarmingly at home as Spurs’ tireless forward outlet. Pochettino doesn’t often do individual plaudits – his post-match reflections focused entirely on the overwhelming collective effort – so Son’s injury-time opportunity for applause should be considered an emphatic thumbs-up from his manager.

This Monday’s zero is in inverted commas, because the Warm-Up has a great deal of sympathy for Francesco Guidolin. Despite looking and dressing like your father-in-law after a good day down at the allotment, Guidolin is a Premier League manager…but perhaps not for much longer: it has been decided that he’s “under pressure” and “set for the axe” with Ryan Giggs “waiting in the wings” (where else would Giggs be waiting, incidentally?)

Swansea played well on Saturday, albeit without a cutting edge in the final third, but losing 2-1 to an emphatically in-form, top-gear Liverpool side cannot surely be deemed an underachievement for Guidolin, nor should it be regarded as a reason to push him any nearer to the exit door than he was before kick-off.

Indeed, had fortune swung his way, Guidolin would have had an encouraging result to take into the international break. Liverpool needed a clumsily-conceded penalty to earn their win while Mike van der Hoorn – Swansea’s centre-back already burdened with a made-up name – ventured up for a kitchen-sink effort, only to steer a shot wide from four yards. Van der Hoorn was already on his knees ruing his squandered opportunity before he’d even finished squandering it. Such are the fine, logic-defying margins between being Guidolin the miracle man and Guidolin: yesterday’s man.

Swansea’s next four fixtures see match-ups with Stoke and Watford sandwiched between daunting tasks against Arsenal and Manchester United. While the Liverpool result hardly seems like enough to swing the axe, the next month provides a decent cross-section of the Premier League challenge.

Guidolin seems like a decent bloke, and gives an honest post-match interview, but knows – as much as anyone else – that he must win games to keep his job. But it’s important to bear in mind that not all games are equal.

It’s not football, but the tribalism is eerily similar. The Telegraph’sAlan Tyersexpertly picks apart the televisual spectacle of the Ryder Cup from the comfort of his sofa – and didn’t need to secretly film anyone having their dinner in the process.

That was the grammatically offensive and almost entirely meaningless promotional tagline for mid-1990s football footwear monstrosities Bull Boys, which had the commercial misfortune to be released around the same time as non-silly football boots like the Adidas Predator.

Alan Hansen there, offering the mild incentive of his pre-printed autograph on some shinpads. He only took over the endorsement role after another titan of the art of defending – one Gareth Southgate Esq. – indirectly found himself in some hot water with OfCom.

The only senior football match of note tonight sees Stuttgart – slumming it in Bundesliga 2 these days – playing host to Greuther Fürth, who sound like they’re about to direct the most confusing German Expressionist film of the 1920s.