Why I won’t be watching Qatar’s World Cup

The pop-up ad I get most frequently these days is David Beckham’s promotional video for the Islamic sandpit of Qatar, in which the smirking tattooed oaf enjoins us to discover such delights as buying some spices in a market and being short-changed in a local shop. Around him is the bling architecture of Doha, which looks like it was designed by his wife. The last scene is a semi-veiled hottie laughing coquettishly with the intellectually impaired former footballer, suggesting to the young men who will be visiting the medieval satrapy for the World Cup that its babes might well be inclined to put out and give you one (if you have bags of cash, designer stubble and ride a motorbike). I assume it was directed by a chap called Asif.

It is a pretty loathsome advert and reportedly netted Beckham – hitherto a minor but willing foot soldier in the army of Woke – a remarkable £150 million, his imprimatur supposedly sanctifying the country and enabling us to forget the thousands who died building its horrible stadia, and the general lack of democracy which pertains in the place.