There’s something about Brooklyn Beckham that really winds people up.
He’s currently trying to be a celebrity chef – because we desperately need more of those – via Cookin’ With Brooklyn, which has been going out weekly to his 13.2 million Instagram followers since December.
Apparently each eight-minute episode requires an “unheard of” team of 62 food experts, producers and camera people and costs a reported £74,000 to make.
A brave anonymous source sniped to the New York Post that “Brooklyn is to cooking what Posh was to singing”.
This is probably not quite the sick burn it was intended to be, as Victoria has clearly done well enough out of being a member of the most commercially successful girl group of all time to be able to fund her son’s vanity projects as well as
her own.
Admittedly Brooklyn is a bit of a numpty, and seems to have the opposite of Goldenballs’ Midas touch when it comes to him finding his path in life.
His football career was over by the ripe old age of 15, and then he released a blurry photography book. He’s infamous for his image not of an elephant, captioned, “Elephants in Kenya. So hard to photograph but incredible to see”, which anyone buying the book had to take his word for.
And now, his cooking show seems to consist of him spreading mayonnaise on various breads before constructing sandwiches out of ingredients cooked by other people.
In a recent episode, US chef Nancy Silverton demonstrated her pecan tart recipe, telling him, “I think even you can make this.”
So yes, Brooklyn’s an extremely privileged doofus, but he’s harmless – which sounds anodyne, but is meant literally.
So many social media influencers use their massive platforms to cause actual harm, encouraging body image issues, spreading dangerous anti-vax nonsense, promoting plastic surgery to teens, flogging expensive tat their followers can’t afford but feel pressure to buy anyway. Brooklyn just wants to make his little sandwiches.
He’s a light entertainment vague irritation at best. There are bigger things to be angry about.
Brooklyn’s charmed existence is like a reboot of The Emperor’s New Clothes – The Emperor’s Son’s New Career Goals.
Instead of failing to point out that the protagonist is naked, nobody in his orbit says “those photos are out of focus” or “but it’s just a sandwich”.
Everyone applauds wildly and gasps in awe at how intensely gifted he is, and he believes them because why wouldn’t he? Some of them are his family, those he trusts most in the world.
So many of us suffer feelings of crippling unworthiness and imposter syndrome – Brooklyn Beckham is the antithesis of that.
Despite the overwhelming evidence around him, he doesn’t appear to have a shred of self doubt. It’s weirdly… admirable?
Especially as, unlike the other obvious example of someone with this characteristic – Boris Johnson – he doesn’t use his power for evil, just for trying to be kind of creative at something.
He’s not hurting anybody.
He’s living in his own Truman Show-esque parallel universe, where doors open automatically, glass ceilings are pre-smashed for his convenience, and everyone says he’s totally nailing it. Good luck to him.
I genuinely hope Brooklyn is happy. Mostly because if he isn’t, happiness must be impossible.
