Leicester City are galloping towards the Premier League title - and we're all having a laugh

Claudio Ranieri's men are a breath of fresh air and it will now be a shock if they don't end up lifting the trophy come May, writes the Sunday Mirror's Andy Dunn 

    Top of the pile: Leicester are marching to the title

When Robert Huth deftly headed humiliation Manchester City’s way, the visiting staff and substitutes rose as one.
There were no high-fives, no air-punching.
They just laughed. And laughed.

They just looked at each other and laughed.
February in full swing and a comfort zone clear at the top of the Premier League table? We are having a laugh.



An opposition ­dripping wealth and world-class talent destroyed, demoralised? We are having a laugh.
More laughing later. Let’s get Manchester City out of the way.

This is why Manuel Pellegrini, for all his old gentlemanly charm, will soon be the past.

It was a startlingly poor performance from manager and players.

It was as though the last time Pellegrini had seen Leicester was when they came here in March 2015, ­propping up 19 teams.

With Yaya Toure meandering in a way only Yaya can, it was as though Pellegrini had not given a second thought to the possibility of Leicester counter-attacking.

 

Passenger: Yaya Toure disappointed for City against Leicester

Mind you – for all Pellegrini’s protestations – being told you are toast, no matter what you might be toasting at the end of the season, cannot help.
Pep Guardiola, though, must be thinking he has been sold the wrong City.

The desperate, slapdash, Sunday League-sliding attempts to halt Riyad Mahrez before he rooted Joe Hart to the soaked turf were symptomatic of this embarrassing Manchester City effort.
But their failings can wait.

Because Leicester’s jolly romp is the feel-good story, grafting a grin on to the face of a competition that can take itself a little too seriously.

It is hard not to wear Claudio Ranieri’s perma-smile.

Hard not to smile at Huth and Wes Morgan somehow coping with Sergio Aguero, Raheem ­Sterling and co when they look as though they should have nightclub doors to man later on.

Hard not to smile at Kasper Schmeichel, loathing comparisons with his dad, but inviting them with each commanding job.

Hard not to smile at the industry of Danny Drinkwater and Marc Albrighton, not so much unsung as unspoken, unwhispered.

Hard not to smile at the ­pipe-cleaner frame of Mahrez, twisting opposition blood.

Hard not to smile at Jamie Vardy annoying defences like a dart annoys a board. Relentless and sharp.


Hard not to smile at the stats. After 25 games of last season, Leicester were five points adrift of 17th position. Today, they stand five points clear at the summit.

They have lost just three times – to Chelsea, Arsenal and ­Liverpool – in their last 34 Premier League fixtures.

Hard not to smile at the ­bookmakers, finally forced into putting Leicester’s name at the top of their boards.

Maybe that is what will change. Pressure.

They will still deflect, Claudio will still call it a dream, but a fact as plain and emphatic as a Huth finish or a Morgan tackle is that Leicester now SHOULD win this title. The workload is light – 13 matches in 14 weeks – and the squad is deeper than most believe.


It should be a shock if they DON’T win it.

From defying ­footballing logic, they are now the logical choice.

Deep down, Ranieri must know it.