David Beckham has signed a deal to play football in the US. As you would expect it’s worth a lot of money ($275 million over five years). Posh Spice of course is delighted. With her fake tits and skinny body she’ll fit in extremely well with the rest of the lollipop ladies in LA.
Personally I think it’s a bit sad. I have always been rather fond of Beckham; he’s cute, seems reasonably nice and can score goals from incredible angles. Without him the England team seems a bit less exciting and certainly less familiar. I remember driving back from the boat after our honeymoon in Sweden at break-neck speed to watch the England-Argentina game and see him sent off for violent behaviour. But that didn’t put me off him; never mind golden balls, to me he was always the golden boy. He made it impossible for me to support anyone else in the World Cup, despite the fact that biologically I’m not English at all.
To me this LA move is a rather sad swan-song. I would have preferred it if he’d just hung up his boots and become a trainer or something. The fact is that no one cares about football in America, they don’t even call it by its proper name, so Beckham ends his days in a sort of Elephants’ graveyard.
For Posh of course this is a new beginning. She will find plenty of things to do, between the visits to plastic surgeons and shopping. I bet she’s thrilled to be getting away from all that foreign chat and tapas. She’s so LA it’s scary. According to today’s Daily Mail (fount of all knowledge) she “made up his mind for him” and is already checking out luxury villas. I wish them luck really. It can’t be easy to be a celebrity couple, endlessly hounded by the media. But then if they didn’t like the limelight, they probably wouldn’t pick Beverly Hills as their next stop.