Queen of spleen: The acid tongue of Julie Burchill - Independent Online Edition > Media
Much has been made of David Beckham's alleged dimness over the years - we don't expect our intellectuals to be great footballers, but for some reason we expect our great footballers to be intellectuals. But when it comes to having one's life "sorted", as the young folk say, he is in a class of his own
[The Beckhams] are a pair of beautiful social barometers, lithe litmus tests who highlight the sad failings and desires of their critics. Between them, they have inadvertently managed to reveal more about the plagues of sexism, snobbishness and plain old-fashioned envy that disfigure Blair's Britain than Germaine Greer, Dennis Skinner and Snow White's wicked stepmother put together. I believe that those who hate the Beckhams do so because they so very obviously made it all by themselves. We pay lip-service to meritocracy, but its rare reality disturbs us, makes us aware of our own idleness or bad luck - and of course, idleness can be a form of extreme, long-distance bad luck.
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