By Michael Burton
What was supposed to be a quiet visit home turned into news story of the week last night, when a drunken David Beckham, accompanied by Victoria, let rip at members of the of the public, calling them a, ‘Bunch of fickle c*nts.’ One of our reporters happened to be at the scene and quickly wrote down everything that occurred.
The incident started when the couple- both clearly half cut- tried to sneak out of Mama Parizza’s; one of Chelsea’s most exclusive restaurants. As the pair descended the steps of the restaurant David lost his footing and stumbled into a bin, drawing attention from passers-by.
“Is das David Beckham?” remarked one anonymous man.
“Yes, it is David Beckham,” replied another.
“It is” came the squawks, and within seconds they’d formed a crowd around the inebriated stars, eagerly waiting, crying out to be fed polite remarks and vague niceties. How mistaken they were.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m David Beckham. Woop-di-fucking-doo.” Becks began.
“David,” Victoria tried to intervene.
“No, Vicky, no. I’ve got this. They need to be told. What are you doing? Look at you all, you’re pathetic. Living your ;ives through me, clinging to me like sycophantic leeches. And i’ll tell you something, I-“
His flow was interrupted by a sicky burp which he quickly swallowed.
“I’ll tell you something,” he resumed, “I am great. I’m a fucking legend. I’m leaving a legacy I am. A hundred years from now people will still be speaking my name. But I, I fucking, I created this, I did it myself. I decided what i want and I took action towards it. I wasn’t a little slug like you lot. Crawling along in your sad little lives, complaining about your environment. Winging. TAKE ACTION! Stop living your lives through me!”
“David, that’s enough!” Victoria led Becks by the hand but he quickly turned back.
“And another thing,” he slurred, “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about 1998 because I haven’t. I was the nation’s hero and then one little lash out, one little mistake against the Argentinean feller and you hate me. You’re burning effigies of me, wishing me dead, sending threats to my family. But oh wait a minute, he’s just scored yet another brilliant free kick in a qualifier against Greece, we like him again now. Fair weather fans, that’s what you are. So we-“
Another sick burp successfully swallowed.
He resumed, “So we can keep up this false veil of respect but we both know the truth. I gave, right, I gave my whole year’s wages to fucking charity. A whole year’s! What have you done? You’ve not given your whole year’s wages away. And even if you did it wouldn’t be anywhere near the same amount. And i hear all the praise I get for it but I know, I KNOW, that if 1998, England versus Argentina repeated again tomorrow, you’d be burning images of me just as quick, wouldn’t you? You fickle bunch of c*nts.”
“David, please!” Victoria protested.
“Sorry Vicky, I almost forgot. And stop questioning if our marriage is on the rocks! We’re fine! Fourteen years! Of course there’s been tough times but we work through it and we’re happier than ever so why don’t you all just fuck off.”
With a great yank, Victoria managed to pull David away, leaving him just enough time to pop a child’s balloon before being bundled into a taxi and driven away.