Slap Dash

”BECKS BLOWS UP! – Over Posh’s American hunk,’ screams the headline in this week’s National Enquirer.

The remodelled Becks was okay, but something had clearly gone wrong with Posh

And therein lies the stuff of fantasies. Of course, the headline is not literally true, and considerable liberties have been taken.

For one thing, David Beckham has not exploded, because if he had have done he’d have surely unleashed a torrential downpour of diamonds, painted flesh and knicker elastic on the world.

Right now, fans would be scurrying around the streets of Madrid picking up bits of Becks and trying to reform him as if making some macabre jigsaw.

But while that is indeed fanciful, surely the second part of the story linking Posh with another man is plain ridiculous.

If one thing is irrefutable about Posh, it is that she exists as some kind of irritating parasite on the back of her husband. She is the tick on the back of Becks’ Red Rum.

Could any other man support her in the style to which she has become accustomed? Other than Peter Stringfellow, we think not.

But the Enquirer is under the impression that music maestro Damon Dash has possibly got too close to Posh.

‘What really annoys David,’ says an unnamed source, ‘is that Victoria seems to be taking more notice of what Dash says than what he says.’

To those who have heard Becks speak, this comes as little surprise.

However, another of the couple’s unnamed pals explains further: ‘Victoria wants to be a star so badly that she overlooks his career – he’s in torment. It’s terribly sad.’

Sad indeed. But not without hope, as Posh and Dash have decided to include Dave’s voice in their lives by featuring one of his ‘desperate’ long-distance phone messages on her new album.

‘Hello,’ says Dave. ‘It’s me…Day-vid. I’ve run out of clean knickers…”

Posted: 20th, November 2003 | In: Reviews Comment | TrackBack | Permalink