Hot Becks, Old Posh
David fixed up that mess on his face and he was back to his quivering standard. Victoria on the other hand… Victoria was a disaster. It was the worst she’s looked in a long, long time. It was atrocious. Like gasp-inducing atrocity. Like if he was contemplating cheating again, last night would have been his final push. Last night she was a Manhattan socialite on her third divorce and about to marry the young clerk she picked up at the nail spa. Last night she was Joan Collins.
As you can see, that makeup ages her 20 years. The hair didn’t help. Neither did her expression. It was her expression, in fact, her body language that made it worst.
Not Posh’s usual pout. But something else. Something resembling fear and anxiety. Victoria seemed afraid. Out of place and intimidated. Not in an endearing, Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman way, but the way a liar might look just before being outed. It was as though she feared her fraud would be uncovered. That they would finally realise she doesn’t belong and as such she was desperately trying to perpetuate the illusion.
It’s the way Tom Cruise has looked for the past 2 years.
No wonder they’re best friends.
On that note, it was truly a priceless moment when Posh and David greeted JLo and Marc at the top of the stairs. The classic double once-over: Victoria eying up Jennifer, Jennifer assessing Victoria, and both grinning widely immediately afterwards, catching each other in the act and each probably proclaiming inwardly that she had the one-up.
Girl sh*t is the best sh*t.
As for Beckham Porn… it was readily available. David’s hand never left her ass. Ever. It hovered there like John Travolta on a handsome masseur. VERY Brad and Angelina, only also VERY rehearsed. Like they’ve been practising in a mirror at home for days. Which they probably totally were.
Photos from Wenn.com and Splashnewsonline.com