Fecks is everything Becks is not. He inhabits his own stratosphere of crapness. He is the anti-King Midas; everything he touches turns to crap. Yet when it comes to self-awareness he has so little he barely knows his own name. He thinks he's cool. He thinks he's hard. He thinks he's trendy. He's seriously deluded. Incredibly, however, there are similarities between Fecks and Becks. They both hail from East London. They both went to live in Manchester at the age of twelve. They both now live in Spain. And they both love women who'd like to be pop singers. Were David Feckham ever to have the world at his feet he'd only hoof twelve yards over the cross bar.