The Beckham to Spurs saga was covered in huge detail this winter. But, as Georgina Turner argues, it’s not all the player’s fault
I manage to pour my breakfast cereal each morning without a plastic model of a member of the Beckham family dropping uninvited into my bowl. I’ve never found one of them sitting outside my building, holding a piece of cardboard upon which is scrawled “Will dance a jig for attention”. I’ve yet to have a particularly tense episode of Spooks interrupted by a pirate broadcast from Beckingham Palace in which David, sporting oversized trousers and shoes, invites Victoria to smell a flower. Which has me confused, because Cirque du Beckham was supposed to be taking over the world. It said so in the papers.