LiS hasn't done a lick of work all afternoon. Yeah, we know - why should today be different from all other days? But even aside from tradition, we've just been sitting here, scratching our heads and wondering: "What, pray tell, just what point is David Beckham trying to make here, do you think?"
We really can't figure it out. The waxed inner thighs to emphasise, well, something, the oddly fist-shaped hulking lump turning what is normally a baguette and two balls into a solid ciabatta, the spread-eagled hamstrings - no, we just can't figure it out at all.
At first I thought I might spin this into a "at last, the male equivalent of the 'Hello, Boys' / Sophie Dahl Opium / Kerry Katona Iceland (for the specialty market) advert." But then I showed it to my most trusted female friends (ie, Marina and Kate, this site's editor - like Ally McBeal, I have no friends outside of office hours) and responses ranged from "ugh, that's put me off my tea" to "is it really repressed to find that really gross?" But don't worry, Dave and Armani - you just know Mr T Cruise will be pleased with it. The original print would look great in the front room, don't you think, Katie?
