IF things go to plan, this could well be the last of my weekly rantings. I have decided to become a PR guru, in the style of the incomparable Max Clifford. He seems to have cornered the market in ladies who have allegedly bedded the divine David Beckham.
Being a PR guru has all manner of advantages, not the least being a healthy percentage of the £500,000 reportedly paid by the News of the World and Sky TV to Rebecca Loos who, if we are to believe all we're told, took her role as Mr Beckham's personal assistant far more literally than Mrs Beckham appreciated.
Max Clifford is definitely the daddy of PR gurus. He's on the telly more times than the weather forecast and has the ear of tabloid hierarchy, which explains the plethora of steamy exposures littering their pages. What leads these women to his door, apart from money and their 15 minutes of fame? And after Rebecca Loos and Sarah Marbeck, the second of Mr Beckham's alleged lovers, will more emerge from the woodwork?
Poor Posh, having to read the tribute to her hubby from Miss Marbeck, which stated that Becks was "a genetically blessed man". The journalist who "ghosted" those words will no doubt be congratulating himself on cleaning up an adjectival phrase which couldn't be exactly reproduced, even in a down-market tabloid.
However, I digress. I'm taking the Max Clifford route to fame and fortune -- mine and anyone else's . . . well, anyone with a tale to tell which could be worth up to a million quid. I know it's going to take some time to reach his exalted standing in the PR world, and at nearly 70, I don't have much of that left. No matter. I am determined to give it my best shot.
I've already signed my first client. She's no rock chick, or a Becks' Babe, but boy, does SHE have some beans to spill. Name: Jennidiah Klaisbottom, born in Wigan of a Lancashire mother and East European father who refused repatriation at the end of World War Two because of a fondness for pies. Jennidiah ran away from home in her teens to join the skiffle revolution and formed her own moderately successful band, The Back Street Bucket Bangers, whose record, "Your Washboard Turns Me On" did well in the pop charts -- in Transylvania.
A comely, ample, Lancashire lass, who once posed topless for the magazine Popular Mechanics, Jennidiah bedded, among others, Lonnie Donegan, Adam Faith, Keith Moon, Jimi Hendrix and Elvis Presley. As none of these gentlemen is alive to substantiate or deny her claims, the editor of the tabloid I approached with the offer of a "kiss 'n' tell" exclusive asked if we could flesh out the details; make them more believable (as if THAT mattered).
Jennidiah said her tryst with Elvis came when the Back Street Bucket Bangers were playing Las Vegas as support band for Lonnie Donegan. Elvis wasn't much of a lover, she claimed. Their coitus was repeatedly interruptus when The King sent out for Big Macs and large fries.
The tabloid boss wasn't impressed. I wonder how Max Clifford would have handled it. Maybe I'll give him a call. There's more to being a PR guru than meets the eye.
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