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Nepo babies provoke a unique brand of ire. Fittingly, they seem to bring out the toddler in many of us; a foot-stamping tantrum sense of but that’s not fair. These privileged golden children are born into guaranteed luxury and opportunity they haven’t worked for, and – we are convinced, despite never having met them – do not deserve.
Some nepo babies attract fury by lazing around on constant holidays, or securing starring roles far beyond their skill set, others because they indulge in wild-eyed, consequence-free party lifestyles. Brooklyn Beckham does it by making sandwiches.
This week he uploaded another of his infamous cooking tutorials to social media, where he turned his hand to – don’t be too proud to Google if you haven’t heard of it – burger and chips. He did them in that order, too: first he cooked the burger, and then, when he was finished, he cooked the chips. So, cold burger and chips, then.
For the uninitiated, you’ll have to take my word that this is an accurate description of events, not snark or a joke. But it is entirely factual to report that Beckham has previously uploaded instructional videos on how to make pesto pasta, a jacket potato with cheese and beans, and an omelette. He has guided viewers through the process of creating a tuna sandwich, an egg sandwich and a cheese toastie, for which he used a blowtorch. His oeuvre is much debated online; theories range from it being satire to rage-bait. The truth appears to be much more simple. It’s real.
Whether the outcome of nature or nurture, Beckham’s confidence should be studied in a lab. It’s as though he has negative feedback blindness; the mean comments and piss-take pastiches (including one where a guy earnestly chefsplains how to add milk to cereal) are water off a duck’s back. It doesn’t feel like arrogance, or entitlement, more … enlightenment. No, I can’t believe I’m using that word either. Obviously, it helps that he doesn’t have to worry about anything as tawdry as earning a living, but Beckham has found what fulfils him, and as a result, attained true freedom. He is immune to opinion. Routinely slammed, blasted and ridiculed, he just keeps doing what he enjoys, utterly unruffled, his enthusiasm and passion never dimmed.
We should probably all try to be a bit more Beckham. Still not joking. Here are five things I’d do, if I had his confidence:
Dance like no one’s watching
I’ve never done karaoke sober. Has anyone? I’m always the last on the dancefloor, too, and usually have to be dragged there. But once I’m in situ, my self-consciousness drowned in sauvignon blanc, I love it. Of course I do – singing and dancing are fun, joyful and good for the soul. If I had the guts to do them without wine*, who knows, maybe I could be the next Beyoncé.
*and also had Beyoncé’s talent.
Carry an umbrella
This isn’t a problem when it’s raining, I’m not that neurotic. But as a reformed sun-worshipper turned pathological sun-avoider, my struggle is when the ageing ball of fire in the sky is blazing down and there’s no shade. Despite there being many countries where parasols are the norm, people in the UK double-take if you put a brolly up when it’s dry, even if you talk loudly about how parasols are the norm in many countries while you do it.
Disagree
A few years ago, I ended up in a conversation with some people I’d just met, about a new cafe that had opened in the area. One man said the food was terrible and really overpriced. I’d had a lovely, very reasonable lunch there but I nodded anyway, out of politeness and to avoid any potential awkwardness. The third person in the chat then revealed themselves as the owner of the cafe. If this experience wasn’t enough to make me braver at disagreeing, nothing is. So, nothing is.
Give compliments to strangers
Often I find myself admiring a passerby’s outfit, or wanting to tell teenagers on the tube they’re beautiful, in case they mistakenly believe the opposite, but I can’t quite work up the nerve. Logically, I can’t imagine how a no-strings-attached compliment could land badly, while being certain that if I ever tried it, I would immediately find out.
Cook anyway
I once made a cake which defied the laws of science, remaining raw in the middle after more than three hours in the oven. Another time I served Fairy Liquid roast potatoes (I forgot to rinse the baking tray after washing it). The memory of the faces of those tasked with consuming my culinary efforts stops me attempting any more, but perhaps I should plough on regardless instead. Details of my YouTube channel to follow.
Polly Hudson is a freelance writer
