David Beckham is apparently an avid gardener and keeper of chickens. He explains how to produce prize courgettes by digging in manure yourself, like he definitely does:
Learn the correct techniques
Want to grow the perfect carrot? Then don’t skimp on raw materials. Waitrose does some terrific ones. Pop them in soil back at your allotment, unearth them and they’re perfect for Instagram. Don’t make the mistake of ‘planting seeds’ and ‘nurturing’ them – the Class of 92 was a one-off thing.
Employ an allotment PA
Yeah, an allotment that’s south-facing with good quality soil is useful, but it’s crucial to employ a full-time personal gardening assistant. They’ll do the physical work – which is all of it – or source local gardeners who can pitch in when you’re in Los Angeles. Ensure they’re not too attractive. I speak from experience.
Pick crops that will flourish on social media
Avoid things like runner beans, because even if they grow well and taste great they’re boring and won’t get clicks. Instead opt for vegetables that might grow into rude shapes. I’d recommend courgettes or pumpkins, which can end up as hilariously misshapen as Paul Scholes’s dong. As you become more skilled, try to raise radishes with vaginas.
Cultivate a bullshit narrative
To maximise the publicity you’ll need an angle the media can run with, such as ‘Victoria shocked by size of David’s marrow’. Obviously she wasn’t because she’s seen a marrow before and is aware of their size, but regular press coverage keeps the brand healthy.
Preserve surplus produce
Even tending a small allotment can result in a glut of fruit or vegetables you’re unable to eat, so buy glass jars and read up on pickling techniques to avoid wasting them. And having a stock of nasty vinegary vegetables in jars means you’ve always got gifts for those you don’t like, such as your son and his heiress wife.
Put the time in
People often ask me how I find time to garden when I’m watching World Cup games or at Wimbledon, and the truth is I don’t. But I remain enough of an icon to get my face in magazines worldwide even for pretending I do, and for me that sweet, homegrown publicity makes it all worthwhile.
Of course.
STOP PRESS, 13.25pm
The bloody Google gnomes are at it again! Neither yesterday's post (from just after 1pm), nor this one (from 7.40am) have shown up in the Blogger Reading List yet.
Bastards.
