For the past week or so I have googled the words "beckham loos spice" several times a day to find the freshest, most horrifyingly salacious (and therefore riveting) gossip on David Beckham's extramarital affairs.
I have no idea. I don't care for soccer (apologies to the football-loving members of mi familia), white men who sport cornrows, or white men who dress in white leather to match the white leather outfits of their unnaturally thin wives. And I was not a fan of the Spice Girls, and I do not think "Posh" is a cute nickname. (And while I'm at it, I may as well admit that I do not like green eggs and ham. I do not like them, Sam I Am) And yet I now faithfully check the Beckham coverage at this Indian paper for the latest breaking news.
I feel better now. After all, they say the first step on the road to recovery is to admit you have a problem.