Word is that Posh and Becks are about as popular in America as a healthy balanced diet. Victoria Beckham intends to change all that by continually showing her nipples to anybody bored enough with life to take any notice.
This most desperate of housewives has been flashing her boobs in any number of Max Headroom-era outfits, minus bra of course and tight enough to expose her areolas, for longer than we care to remember. Since the batty coupling of Jordan and Peter Andre hit U.S. soil on a publicity offensive a few weeks back, Posh, alongside her Father Dougal McGuire of a husband, has been picking up the pieces. Apparently Jordan and her funbags have been given a three series deal for American TV. Andre gets to tag along too on the pretext of making overt fellatio comments that are so whispered and contrived they have to subtitled by the programme makers. What have Posh and Becks got to show for their own charm offensive? Nothing. Indifference at best.
Though nothing is quite that simple. Posh still has those Crème Eggs she carries round in her sprayed-on tops for back up. If in doubt wheel out the (not so) teeny (these days) guns and find the air conditioning. Alongside the fake tan and sack wax, Posh has branded herself the ultimate stateside accessory for the demented man about town. When not busily endorsing Major League Soccer, there is nothing Becks likes more than parading his wife about the balmy Los Angeles party scene. She pouts and keeps him away from her knockers; he waves a lot and tugs at his g-string. Yet still nobody is taking a blind bit of notice of them.
The thing is that Victoria Beckham is hardly the epitome of the American Dream. Those L.A. chaps like their women to look healthy, by which we mean complete with a scorched on, wrinkle inducing, cancer welcoming tan, and naturally (Jordan has never been small) top heavy. Neither of which Posh can provide, no matter how much St. Tropez she bathes in nor how many times she appears outside the school gates without a bra. You simply cannot make people like you – Heather Mills has blatantly taught the world that – and nobody appreciates desperation (step forward Ingrid Tarrant).
One day Posh will come to realise this, possibly when she gets arrested for smuggling pine nuts at the airport, and then she will be happy. And we guarantee that without the risk of finding her angry nipples draped all over your tabloid daily, you will be happy too.