Posh Spice, the stick-thin shopping machine better known as David Beckham's wife, has launched her latest autobiography - ‘Learning to Sing'. The book, which the footballer's spouse allegedly wrote all on her own, charts her failed attempts to overcome tone-deafness and an inability to write meaningful lyrics which mean something:
"In many ways I'm still learning," said Posh at a book launch in a bookstore, "they say you shouldn't sing before you can talk, which is why David doesn't sing and I don't play football."
Rabbits
At a marathon signing session (that's signing, not singing) Posh fielded questions from fans and journalists, pausing only to ask an aide how to spell Victoria. Asked why she was launching yet another autobiography so soon after her last one the former pop star smiled and simply said:
"A lot's happened since then - David and me have had another son and I've broken several more nails."
The Beckhams have been caught like rabbits in the media spotlight for the past ten years. As well as his enormous salary from Spanish football club Real Madrid, David is thought have made many millions more from Vodafone, Police Sunglasses, Brylcreem, and his three other sons.
Spice Girls
The England football captain's wife shot to fame in the mid-90s as the superfluous, non-singing member of posturing girlie group The Spice Girls. Together with Sporty, Baby, Ginger and Frightening Spice, Mrs Beckham went on to be present at the recording sessions of several number one hits such as ‘Wannabe', ‘Say You'll Be There' and ‘Please Buy This Lovely Italian Scooter Wot We're Promoting'. Despite being from Essex and unable to pronounce certain consonants she acquired the nickname Posh and soon garnered special praise for her pouting in videos. Posh developed a reputation as the most vacuous and least talented of the group - no mean feat considering the stiff competition from the other four band members. After several years Ginger left the group but sadly the remaining four carried on without her, scoring another couple of hits, although no-one can remember what they were (answers on a postcard please).
The new book, which is published by Puffin, goes on sale from today at all crap bookshops, priced £1000.
