How to put up an unconvincing fight to pay the bill

‘NO, no, I’ll pay,’ you say, not meaning a word of it, but afraid to push it too far. These techniques will make it seem you desperately wanted to cover it but were cruelly thwarted:

Lay the foundations

Show early on, no later than the first drink, that you’ve yearned for weeks to buy this meal, reminding them frequently that ‘this one’s on me’ with all the conviction you can summon. And if they don’t say ‘no, I insist’ back, then they’re the wanker so they’ll have no option.

Exaggerate the fumble

Channel those awkward going-under-the-clothes teenage years with a good old fumble yielding nothing. Lining your handbag or pockets with old receipts ensures you don’t reach your wallet too quickly while mumbling that it must be there somewhere. Wince slightly at your own messiness, agonised at the thought of a free feed.

Peruse at length

In the unfortunate event that your opponent is more skilled in the slow fumble hold the bill out before you, examining it on its merits, head cocked quizzically, waiting for them to snatch it back before you notice they had three Old Fashioneds before you even arrived and how much it’s cost. On a Wednesday too.

Protest faintly

Once you’ve held the bill close enough to your dining partner they’re forced to either touch or inhale it, murmur at a volume audible only to any small woodland creatures sleeping in your hair ‘oh, you mustn’t’. Let this be your final, feeble protest before you’re steamrollered into accepting their generosity, so as not to offend.

Insist vehemently it’s your turn next time

Now the card is out, let your anger rise. You wanted to pay. You were desperate to pay. Not paying has done you incalculable damage. Your honour can only be satisfied by a firm promise – no, a vow – that you will pay next time. When that occasion comes around, make sure to sow doubt at the booking stage by saying ‘Whose turn is it to pay?’

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Men on lads' weekend making pathetic excuses to call the women they love

MEN on a boys-only getaway are concocting ridiculous reasons for calling the women they share their lives with so as not to lose face. 

Tired, emotional but afraid of derision, the crew of lads in Dublin are attempting to fulfil promises to girlfriends and wives they will call home while being to scared to openly do so in front of the others.

Martin Bishop, aged 31, said: “It’s not easy. We never leave each other’s company except to go for a piss, and you can’t call from in there any more than talk to a stranger.

“Nathan said ‘I’d better take this,’ when his pregnant girlfriend called to a rising, mocking chorus of ‘Aaah-under the thumb,’ so we’ve established it’s not allowed and any contact must be surreptitious and clandestine.

“Howard texted his wife to call saying there was no hot water, which might have worked if Ben wasn’t a heating engineer and his flimsy excuse hadn’t fallen apart under technical scrutiny. He had to do three tequila shots and shortly after pissed himself.

“Si was pretending to film a selfie when it was actually a FaceTime with Katie. The lads jumped him, nicked his phone and began simulating homoerotic acts. One of them was Katie’s brother. I don’t know who feels the most shame, but it’s how it has to be.”

Bishop later requested a private dance in a lapdancing club, which he spent on the phone to his girlfriend crying and saying he wanted to go home.