How to pathetically capitulate to the Qatari regime while watching at home

VIRGIN Atlantic is dropping gender-neutral uniforms for the British team’s flight to Qatar. It seems everyone is caving in to the illiberal state, so how can you join in?

Lock up a gay mate

Invite a gay friend over to watch the footie. They won’t suspect a thing until you bundle them into a prison cell. Three years is a long time to be locked in your spare room with its new steel door, but as an England fan they’ll agree we must respect our evil bigoted bastard hosts.

Give up alcohol…

Doing the respectful thing will be particularly punishing during low-grade group games nobody gives a toss about, like Japan vs Costa Rica. Also risks the realisation that football’s boring when you’re not pissed, with millions of fans worldwide moving on to air hockey. Another triumph for FIFA.

… or go to extreme lengths to hide your drinking

The Qatari royal family has ordered that beer tents are hidden from view. Do likewise by crouching in the shed and shotgunning Stella before rushing back to the TV. You’ll miss crucial goals but it’s good practise for concealing alcoholism.

Get a few more wives

Qatari men can have up to four wives, so even if you’re married there are three slots left. Treat it like putting together your fantasy football team: one wife who’s good at cooking, a hot one for sex, a generalist to do the school run, etc. This isn’t misogyny, you’re supporting Southgate and the lads.

Exploit a migrant worker

Get a Polish builder to build an extension by confiscating his passport, then only pay him £5. He won’t be happy so ensure he has an ‘accident’ with his cement mixer. If the police are backing England that will be the last you hear of it. It’s the Qatari way.

Become a male guardian

Women can’t do much in Qatar without the permission of a male guardian. Become your sister’s guardian and inform her that she retroactively can’t marry your brother-in-law and is divorced. You’ve always hated that smug bastard Hugh with his slip-on shoes and BMW.

Take the women in your life clothes shopping

Your wife/wives and teenage daughters will be delighted you’re treating them to a new wardrobe, less so when they discover it’s headscarves and long-sleeved, ankle-length dresses. Explain how much happier they’ll be when not exposed to harmful Western influences.

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Your boyfriend's wild university years: What he claims vs reality

HAS your boyfriend pathetically tried to impress you with tales about his crazy years at uni? Here’s how his claims match up with what actually happened.

Claim: ‘The best thing about going to uni was the freedom – I could stay out all night, bring girls back and have wild parties in my room which always got massively out of hand.’

Reality: Was hideously homesick and cried for his mum every night through Freshers’ Week when everyone else was out partying. Went home nearly every weekend with his washing.

Claim: ‘I was out on the lash every single night: lager, cider, gin, tequila slammers – loads of those. It’s a wonder I had a liver left by the time I graduated!’

Reality: Regularly passed out after four pints, generally after first throwing up all over someone. Housemates bundled him into a taxi back to the digs initially, then got pissed off with having to constantly babysit him and took to leaving him comatose in a club toilet cubicle.

Claim: ‘Drugs? I tried everything – weed, coke, speed, poppers. I was like some rock star in the 60s snorting coke off groupies’ tits.’

Reality: Smoked a spliff in his first year, turned green and remained silent all evening in a black pit of paranoia. Spent the rest of the week equally paranoid the police would somehow find out and send him to prison. Never touched anything else.

Claim: ‘I honestly can’t even remember how many girls I shagged. Let’s just say I made professional footballers look like the bloody Pope.’

Reality: Got off with the Goth girl everyone avoided because she was really weird. Spent the next three months in a strange relationship where he frequently pretended not to know her. That was it.

Claim: ‘I barely did any work at all, I was too busy partying. God only knows how I came out of it with my 2:1 in Psychology.’

Reality: Constantly up studying until 3am while all his housemates were out clubbing. Still a mystery how he got a 2:1 because, even though psychology is a piss-easy degree, he’s actually pretty thick and peaked educationally when he squeezed in with a C and two Ds at A-level.