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.
Every inch of this book has been designed for the laughs - right from the cover and title mocking David Beckham's autobiography "My side" through to the faux index, even the autographs hidden underneath the dust jacket.
The story follows football-obsessed David Feckham. He is the opposite of David Beckham because he is rubbish at football. Trouble is he can't see that and assumes that when people tell him he is rubbish that it is just typical football banter.
His career follows a similar path to Beckham's in that he plays for a football team in Manchester, a pub team; he remarkably makes the England national team (the pub one), even becoming captain. He then moves to Spain working for a timeshare company there but is much more interested in playing for their football team than in making sales. He even meets the real Beckham a few times along the way with the accumulation of these meeting bringing about a fitting ending to the book.
The humour may wear after a while but I still loved it and all other football fans will love it too. Recommended.