How to respectfully get off your tits tonight

TOMORROW is an historic day of national mourning. Mark the occasion appropriately by getting deferentially drunk:

Start at 11am

To show you’re thinking of the Queen and not camouflaging day drinking, knock back your first at 11am. If anyone asks, this is your way of setting a 24-hour countdown to bidding Her Majesty one final farewell. Down a drink every hour on the hour to maintain the pretence.

Ditch Paddington and marmalade sandwiches

Follow Buckingham Palace’s strict orders by shunning Paddington and marmalade sandwiches this side of the funeral. Cuddly toy bears are cute but have zero alcohol content so are of no use to you today. And marmalade sandwiches are a terrible stomach lining and could jeopardise your mournful piss-up.

Dress appropriately

Black suit and tie for the gents, black dress and netted veil for the ladies. Not only is it traditional and appropriate at this sad time, but black clothes don’t show up spillages or stains when you drop a forkful of dhansak. Given you will be too pissed to walk straight by early evening, this feature will get plenty of use.

Play fitting music

Forget the National Anthem. It’s a painful reminder of the changing monarchy and it’s too much of a dirge to get properly leathered to. Instead crank up the Sex Pistols’ God Save The Queen, Royals by Lorde, and anything by Queen. The Queen loved Queen.

Stay up late

Her Majesty’s reign was the longest ever, apart from some French prick who cheated by starting when he was five. Salute her indefatigability by pushing your own drunkenness further into the night than you’ve ever managed before. 6am would be a fitting tribute, 9am even more so.

Thirteen things the twat who'd been on a gap year like, learned, man

GOING to university? You’ll shortly meet the gap year student who learned obvious lessons on their travels. Julian Cook passes on life lessons:

We’re all, like, the same

Whether you’re a partner at my father’s law firm or like, a poor fisherman’s wife in Bali, we all want happiness. And whether that’s getting your Christmas bonus or not having your husband drown in a typhoon it’s all the same really.

Don’t have sex on a beach

I learned this the hard way on a beach in Bangkok. You know how after a trip to the seaside your car is always filled with sand for weeks, yeah? Same with your dick.

Locals are wonderful

There’s so much written about how awful foreigners are and how their cultures are worse than ours. Yet every local we met wore huge, beaming smiles while overcharging us for everything.

Leave your comfort zone

Opening yourself up to new experiences is so important. I’d never actually gone glamping before visiting this four-star resort in Cambodia, and suddenly I was living like Bear Grylls!

There’s a different pace of life

The rat race of the Western world is too fast-paced compared to the luxury hotels my dad paid for on my travels. We could learn a lot from their slower way of life.

Treasure experiences over possessions

Our consumerist culture makes us forget that it’s lived experiences that stay with us. That’s why I was totally, like, chill when a pickpocket stole my iPhone in Indonesia. I was due an upgrade so I bear that sack of shit no ill will.

Respect local customs

Having the opportunity to respect local traditions is deeply moving, like the Full Moon Party in Thailand where locals enjoy the sacred ritual of selling dodgy MDMA to stoned Brits.

Understand suffering

The hours I spent volunteering in a school in a Nairobi slum will stay with me forever. I really got to experience everything those impoverished children were going through.

Seize the day

You never know when you’ll next get chance to sky-dive with a drunk Australian you met on an all-nighter in Vientiane. Check your travel insurance hasn’t expired first.

Travel broadens your mind

Travelling offers you the opportunity to experience other ways of life. Like, did you know in Cambodia they eat spiders? Awful.

Struggle rewards

Climbing to the summit of Kilimanjaro to see the sunrise was a once-in-a-lifetime challenge, and I was thrilled to be able to share the moment with the locals carrying my bags.

Foreign prisons are no joke

If you buy a bag of white off an undercover cop, your father’s unlikely to know anyone in the My Doc place district to have a word with so you’ll spend a night in the cells. Would avoid.

There’s no place like home

There’s only so long you can spend living out of a rucksack before you pine for your parent’s apartment in Kensington. No wonder everyone is trying to come and live in the UK. My main takeaway is: we need stronger border controls.