David Beckham wakes up one morning, showers and puts on his best tracksuit, ready for another hard day's work of being an over-privileged little shit. Catching sight of himself in the mirror, he thinks "By God, Davey, you're looking good today."
He admires the fine cut of his shell suit, the healthy sheen of his tan and flexes his biceps. "Feeling good too," he notes proudly at the firm swell of muscle underneath the Man Ure shirt he's wearing.
He goes down to the kitchen where his bird Posh hands him a bowl of cornflakes. "You're looking fit this morning, Dave"
"Too right" says the thick pillock. "I feel good as well."
"But you don't smell so good, mind," comments his beloved.
The Brylcream boy takes a sniff. "You're right there," he says worriedly, "I do smell a bit rough."
He finishes his breakfast, jumps into his customised Range Rover and drives off to Old Trafford to practice kicking children.
He meets poor old Paul Scholes at the gates. "Alright Becks, you're looking good today" says the ginger one.
"Too right I am" replies the cockney git.
"But you whiff a bit" says Scholsey.
"Funny that, I don't know what it is but Posh said the same thing."
"Good morning to you" he grins at Alex Ferguson.
"It's a fine day, Becks" says the Scottish prick "and you're looking really good."
"Hey, thanks Boss, I look good and I feel good as well" replies the overpaid wally.
"Oh Becks!" winces the moaner. "You smell awful, skip training and go to the quacks."
Worried the boy wonder visits his doctor.
"Doctor, I've got a problem. I look good, I feel great but I smell awful."
The doctor gets out his medical dictionary.
"Lets see...looks good...feels great...smells awful. Hmm, yes. It's quite simple, Mr Beckham," says the doctor. "You're a cunt"
Ben Blaney 06/08/1999Categories: Filthy, football, Rude words!