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Posh and Becks have a passion for selling

THAT infamous phrase, "They haven't gone away you know," can just as well be applied to David and Victoria Beckham.

Every so often they come up with a stunt to sell something or other.

The last time I saw them together was in an advert for Armani underwear where he was lying face down in his Y-fronts, while she sat on the floor in her bra and knickers with a face on her that could have stopped a clock.

They have been quiet lately, but are now back with a bang as they flog their his and hers fragrance, Intimately Yours, which they say is designed to “capture the essence of David and Victoria Beckham's passion and power of their relationship”. Oh puleeze.

“I can't watch it without cringing,” said Patsy. I know what she means. The said ad features Vic wearing a tux entering a lift where hubby, also in a tux, is waiting like a sex-crazed, eh . . . sheep ready to pounce. As the lift door closes you get a glimpse of them in a clinch, her heavily lipsticked chops pouting like a halfstarved goldfish as he dives in for a goozer.

“The lift door then closes and it soars towards the roof like their passion,” added Patsy, hanging her index fingers around the word passion.

Maggie, who loves all this lovey dovey sex-in-a-lift stuff, wanted to hear more.

I described how the lift door opens between floors revealing their increasing lust for each other — at one stage Vic looks like she's lost the entire tuxedo — as Dave is all over her like batter on a burger.

When they reach their destination, the lift opens for the final time and we can see that David is missing his bowtie, which has either been ripped off by Victoria's teeth or he has caught it in the door. To add to the impression that he has just completed a 20-second knee trembler his perfectly coiffed mullet is now, as they say, ‘all over the gaff '. He steps from the lift and wipes her lipstick from his mouth while she stares at the camera with a look that says, “You've got nothing on me, Rebecca Loos”.

“That sounds wonderful,” said Maggie wistfully. “What's so cringing about it?” Maybe it's Victoria's dead eyes as she succumbs to David's advances. Maybe it's the weary look on his face as the lift door opens and closes at the rate of knots, keeping up the pressure on him to perform. Maybe it's the way they are so obviously willing to sell themselves to sell their wares.

Or maybe it's just that I'm jealous as hell because I've never had an occasion to be disrobed of my tuxedo in a lift . . .


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