THE World Cup is here, but traditionalists may have a problem with all the female presenters – a whole 35 per cent of the BBC’s team! Here’s how to cope with this onslaught of feminism.
Pretend it’s the start of a porn video
Well, it almost could be, couldn’t it? With the likes of comely young Alex Scott being ‘shown the ropes’ by seasoned MILF Gabby Logan, and a bewildered man in the middle being made to take part. It’s best not to let your imaginings go too far, though, as it could all end in tears with an unfortunately-timed ejaculation over Alan Shearer.
Turn it into a drinking game
This could go one of two ways: either take a drink every time the female presenter says something you deem to be ‘obvious’, which inevitably will leave you legless before kick-off, or alternatively down a shot each time they let a man finish a sentence, in which case you’ll be so tediously sober you could legally drive yourself to Scotland.
See it as a challenge
Regard football ladies as a fun challenge, like sudoku. Pretend they’re a bold step forward, and try to go the entire duration of a match without once snorting in derision at the commentary or the pre- and post-match analysis. You probably won’t succeed, because there’s no way you can understand football with a fanny, but give it a go.
Imagine you’ve fallen into an alternative reality
Recalling the Two Ronnies’ superb anti-feminist mini-drama The Worm That Turned, spend the World Cup imagining you’ve fallen into a dystopian parallel universe where women are in charge and men are terrorised by gorgeous feminazis in black leather hotpants. If anything you’ll be sad when a male commentator dispels your sexy victimhood fantasies with a grinding cliche like ‘Croatia have got a mountain to climb…’
Get into rugby instead
There’s always rugby. It’s the hooligan sport played by gentlemen where being a physically massive bastard is the main thing, and the presenters are pleasingly XY-chromosomed. Plus, no VAR. On the downside there are also no flash Portuguese bastards you can shout at as they make mincemeat of your defenders; no thousands of fans all banding together to shout insults in song form at referees who are just trying to do their job under immense pressure; and the ball is a funny shape. It’s your decision.
Double down on the male presenters
You’ve always had a ‘thing’ for Roy Keane anyway. Either that or he reminds you of a scary bearded dad — neither of these disturbing thoughts needs deeper inspection right now. But this is a chance to listen to his opinions with newfound respect bordering on a man-crush. The same applies to Gary Neville, Ian Wright and Micah Richards. But not Mark Chapman. That would be ridiculous.
