Becks’ Bum: Satisfaction or Disappointment?

Becks running

I don’t have much to say about the much-discussed latest Beckham ad for his H&M pants, dir­ec­ted by fel­low LA-loving Brit Guy Ritchie, in which he runs through Beverly Hills in his white slip­pers as the props and scenery con­spire to remove his clothes, Cupid Stunt–like.

Except: Those slip­pers must be really, really snug to stay on.

And: How sweet that Guy Ritchie has gradu­ated from mak­ing homo­phobic gay porn for straight men, such as Lock Stock and Snatch, to mak­ing gay porn for, well, every­one.

OK, while I found the rest of it, like the under­wear itself, fairly for­get­table (espe­cially the Cheever cliché) - and even when he has no lines Becks evid­ently still can’t act to save his dress­ing gown — the final shot is more interesting.

Unlike those eye-poppingly Photoshopped Armani ads the emphasis in this ad com­modi­fy­ing the world’s most fam­ous man’s body seems to be not on his bas­ket but his on his bum.

And what a hungry bum it appears to be.


This shot (reprised twice in the ad) is prob­ably inten­ded to demon­strate the lovely stretchi­ness of the lycra-cotton mix and rub up against our com­mod­ity fet­ish­ism. But it looks like some­thing else is quite stretchy too.

Perhaps the real reason I don’t have much more to say about Beck’s latest is because I’m very dis­trac­ted. By the hil­ari­ous par­ody clip below made by some ‘cheeky’ British Army lads for nowt which has recently been brought to my attention.

Not only does it rep­res­ent the ulti­mate in all those ‘sol­diers act­ing gay’ vids (end­ing up as a semi-simulated gay orgy), it also rep­res­ents a much fun­nier, much met­ro­sex­ier example of ‘self-objectification’ and male exhib­i­tion­ism and ‘passiv­ity’ than Becks and Ritchie’s big budget bore. (

Plus they seem to have got around the packet prob­lem by shame­lessly stuff­ing their crotches.

Basically, it’s just so much more sat­is­fy­ing.

Besides, the squad­die who opens the video — and whose idea the whole thing prob­ably was - has got a bet­ter arse than Becks. He doesn’t need a booty double.

Oh, and his under­wear is much nicer too.

Tip: DAKrolak

Becks and Smithy Declare Their Love To the World

Smithy aka James Corden is a British comedian who isn’t ter­ribly funny but does have a lot of front. And back. And sides. Especially sides.

You can watch his spot at the British Sports Personality of the Year Award, from which the Becks scenes above are taken, in full below. But be warned: it goes on rather a long time and fea­tures a lot of sports stars you’ve prob­ably never heard of if you’re not British.

There’s also a lot of kiss­ing of fore­heads and tops of heads by Corden — which is a pecu­liar habit of British foot­ball fans when they’re feel­ing happy and affec­tion­ate but afraid of your actual lip con­tact (foot­ballers here used to snog each other prop­erly after they scored a goal, but now mostly do the fore­head thing their fans do).

There’s a kind of double irony see­ing Corden do this to Becks in bed in the con­text of their domestic girlie grooming/nesting send-up — espe­cially since it looks really quite tender. Becks in par­tic­u­lar plays it ‘straight’, eschew­ing campy insur­ance policies, and reach­ing for Corden’s hand — mak­ing their couple­dom seem quite believ­able, or ima­gin­able. I sus­pect that not a few footie fans, in between nervous giggles, sud­denly real­ised that it might be quite comfy snug­gling up in bed with Becks watch­ing Neighbours re-runs.  Even with that beard.

Actually, the Becks scene put me in mind of the domest­ic­ated bliss of sweet 1950s com­edy couple Jerry Lewis and Dean Martin. Though not as funny.

Cristiano Ronaldo Grabs David Beckham’s Bulging Underwear


My con­grat­u­la­tions go to Cristiano Ronaldo, who once again is step­ping into Beck’s pricey shoes – and briefs. Ronaldo has just been named Armani’s new inter­na­tional ‘spokes­model’. (Presumably his legs and packet are going to do all the talking.)

david_beckham_1501429cPoor Becks, Mr Armani’s pre­vi­ous sporno star, dis­carded by his Italian designer sugar daddy like yesterday’s trade, unpop­u­lar at Galaxy FC and cur­rently sport­ing a Captain Birdseye beard, is increas­ingly look­ing like someone who was merely keep­ing that over­priced under­wear warm for Ronaldo. In fact, being appoin­ted Mr Armani’s inter­na­tional flasher – rather than the record-busting trans­fer deal to Real Madrid earlier this year — is the 100% cot­ton proof that Ronaldo has now finally and offi­cially eclipsed Becks bul­ging pro­file in the metro-tarting stakes.

The crown of met­ro­sexu­al­ity — and more import­antly the pants — have been passed on to a new gen­er­a­tion. Cristiano Ronaldo, ladies and gents, is the new met­ro­sexual king/queen. (He may not have much taste, but that’s the won­der­ful thing about being king or queen: you don’t have to.)

Becks may have blazed a trail for foot­balling met­ro­sexu­al­ity, but Ronaldo is look­ing like the fin­ished, total product where Becks was merely the pro­to­type. Ronaldo is genu­inely, boy­ishly (and annoy­ingly) beau­ti­ful, where Becks, well into his thirties now, increas­ingly looks like mut­ton very expens­ively dressed as lamb.

I don’t think though that Becks will fade away any time soon. Despite all the talk about his his fetch­ing looks, he never was a great beauty. No, really. It was the pas­sion of his desire to be desired that was always the com­pel­ling thing about him — and as he gets older that pas­sion will prob­ably only increase.

Even with a Birdseye beard.


Becks Does Freddie (Doing Becks)


How much big­ger can the cotton-clad pack­ages in men’s under­wear ads get, I won­der, before they are lit­er­ally shoved down our throats? And if they are, will any of us be so impol­ite as to gag? Even though good qual­ity cot­ton is so absorbent?

Above is Beck’s latest sporno for Emporio Armani under­wear, due to air in early 2008. Below is fellow-footballer Freddie Ljunberg’s 2006 Calvin Klein campaign.


Do these chaps live together? I mean, they seem to share the same type of fancy under­wear, the same kind of bed-linen, the same barber — and the same dodgy shaver. They also seem to favour the same saucy bed­time pos­i­tions — and appar­ently use the same b/w digital cam­era. They even look like one another, in that slightly dis­turb­ing twin-ish way that some boy­friends have.

In fact, the shots are almost a mir­ror image of one another: are they look­ing into our eyes, their own or each oth­ers? Even if they don’t actu­ally share the same bed, it’s clear that Becks is doing Ljunberg doing Becks: which is impress­ive. Auto-fellatio and 69-ing at the same time. Just as well these guys are supple athletes.

Becks seems to sport an even lar­ger Ljunbox — though seems to be less well-endowed when it comes to light­ing. (Becks is two whole years older than Freddie.)

Is Beck’s big­ger bas­ket a case of post-production spor­no­graphic one-up-manship? Or is it just that Beck’s Brit meat­balls are big­ger than the Swedish vari­ety? (Which at Ikea at least seem to be a little on the mean side.) I think we need to be told.

In the mean­time, I must com­mend Mr Armani’s decision to draw a veil — or a white linen shirt — over Beck’s ser­i­ously daggy arm and shoulder tatts.

Tip: Towelroad