People are always leathering into Victoria Beckham.
If they're not running photos with circles around her feet and pointing out her bunions, they're running photos with circles around her breasts, and pointing out how they have ballooned or shrunk over the past 10 years.
Then there are the jibes about the actually very good fashion range she designs, the snipes about whether "super slim Posh" has got wrinkly knees and the barbs about how she never seems to smile.
And yet ... and yet. I like the Beckhams.From a media perspective, they play the game. Whether at an airport, out shopping or on a walk, they let you take pictures of them and their children. They do their bit for charity. They take the brickbats with good grace.
We may take them seriously - does a day go by when one or other or both don't make the news? - but they don't take themselves seriously.
You just know that privately they must laugh together at the absurdity of it all, including all the speculation and commentary on that trademark Posh Pout.
They know the deal they've made with fame. They brighten up dull January days when Christmas trees have come down and sales no longer entice. Victoria is particularly endearing. She is neither a great singer or stunning beauty yet exudes such star quality. The clothes! The hair styles! The shoes!
And her greatest achievement? Every time you see pictures of the couple with their three boys, the children appear well-behaved, normal and happy.
In many ways, having weathered various storms, the Beckhams are laudable role models.
If we have to live in a celebrity obsessed culture we could do an awful lot worse. So, as they await the arrival of baby number four, let's wish David and Victoria well.