Beckham joke

Rabies

David Beckham runs in early from training one afternoon and dashes
to the bedroom to find Posh spread out on the bed naked, puffing
and panting.

Becks asks her suspiciously "What are you doing?"

Posh stutters a reply "I'm - er, er.... I'm having a heart attack"

"Oh no" he cries in despair. "I'll call an ambulance". He runs
downstairs, picks up the phone and begins dialling 999.

However, he is stopped in his tracks by a tearful Brooklyn. "What's
the matter, son?" asks Becks.

"Uncle Giggsy is in the wardrobe with no clothes on, daddy" sniffles
Brooklyn. Infuriated by this, Beckham runs upstairs and kicks down
the wardrobe door.

Sure enough, the carpet-chested Welshman is stood there, starkers.

"You wanker Giggsy" screams Becks. "My wife is right over there
having a bloody heart attack, and you're running around naked
scaring the **** out of Brooklyn."

Pugsley

Was posted a few weeks ago, fuppin class tho

JohnK

lmao
brilliant

McGintyMcGoo

memphis

Damn, beckham really is a muppet isn't he?

Guess ye might have something in comman then eh Rabies??

LOL

Just kidding!!!

Tellox

Alex Ferguson calls David Beckham into his office.
'David,' he says, 'I'm worried about your performance the last few games. You've been hopeless, completely off form.'
'Sorry, boss', says David. 'I've not been myself lately. I've got a few problems at home.'
'Oh dear,' says Ferguson, pretending to care. 'What's up? Posh and Brooklyn okay?'
'Oh they're fine', says David. 'It's just that something's really bugging me and I'm losing sleep and everything. I can't concentrate on my football and it's really messing me up.'
'Whatever's the matter, David?' says Fergie.
'Well, boss', says David, 'it's pretty serious. You see I'm really stuck on this jigsaw and...'
'A jigsaw?!!!' shouts Alex. 'You're ****ing up every time you play because of a bloody jigsaw?!!!'
'Yeah, boss, but you don't understand, it's really doing my head in!' says David in that horrible whining voice. 'It's really hard and it's this picture of a tiger and it looks really good on the box and I'm sure I've got all the bits and everything but I just can't get it right and it's doing my head in and I even had my hair cut to try and cool my brain down and...'
'David, David, David,' says Ferguson. 'You've got to get a grip. It's affecting our games and nothing is as important as Manchester United's success, other than Roy Keane's wages, obviously.'
'Yeah, boss,' says David, 'but it's this picture of a tiger and it looks really good on the box and I really want to finish it but it's really hard and it's doing my head in and it's this picture..and it's a tiger and it's hard...and I can't make the bits fit and, er, it's really hard, er, boss and, er, it's a tiger, er,... on the box...er...boss.'
Ferguson waits until even Beckham realises he's repeating himself and has got nothing else to say which took a bit longer than usual.
'David,' he says, with that conceited, irritating, smug smile he uses for self-congratulatory post-match interviews.
'Bring the tiger jigsaw in and let's have a look at it. For Christ's sake, we've got to get you back to playing football.'
'Oh thanks, boss,' says David, 'that'd be really helpful 'cos it's really hard and it's a picture of a tiger and it's doing my head in.'
So David brings the jigsaw into Ferguson's office.
'Here it is, boss.' he says, showing Ferguson the picture on the box. 'Look, boss, it's this tiger, right, and it's a really good picture and everything but I just can't do it and it's really hard and it's doing my head in and it's this picture here of a tiger,' and Beckham empties all the pieces from the box all over Ferguson's desk.
Ferguson looks at what's on his desk and the faint dusty cloud now hanging over it. He looks up at David Beckham.
'David, put the ****ing Frosties back in the box.'