“Try me.”
That’s what he said.
He didn’t ignore my question. Didn’t say yes or no.
He responded with just that.
“Try me.”
Two words.
Two words that somehow evolved into a moment.
A moment I’m sitting in right now, in a London pub, waiting for Cruz Beckham to walk through the door.
Okay … Let’s rewind.
Since 2023, I’ve run Famous & Ticklish (The FTU), one of the world’s largest male celebrity-focused tickle fiction platforms and social media accounts.
The brand is built on stories, phases, arcs, sagas.
Character-driven fiction centred around tickle torment and … Well, you know what this is. You’re here reading it.
Anyway, two weeks ago, somehow, only two weeks ago, Cruz Beckham posted on his Instagram story:
“Ask me all of your questions.”
I didn’t hesitate.
Logged in as Famous & Ticklish, I asked something simple:
“Are your feet ticklish?”
I had zero expectation he’d reply.
I’ve asked variations of that question to countless celebrities before.
Nothing.
Silence, every time.
But within two minutes, my phone buzzed.
Cruz had replied.
“Try me.”
For the next two days, I showed off.
Screenshot the response, shared on my own story, the reactions started flooding in.
Followers, readers of the FTU, all losing it, all excited, all shocked, all very much focused (as was I) on how bold the response was …
The fact he even responded at all, especially to a question that isn’t exactly considered ‘normal’.
One thing I’ve learned in my 38 years of living:
There’s no harm in trying.
So, still logged in as F&T, I slid into his DMs …
… and decided to make fiction a reality.
It went quiet after that.
Truthfully, I didn’t even have time to worry if I’d gone too far … if I’d pushed it by asking what I asked.
I was too busy processing what had just happened.
I’d just had a full-on conversation with Cruz Beckham.
Not about his music.
Not about his dad.
Not about the feud with his brother.
No.
We were talking about the fact that I’d asked if his feet were ticklish … And how bold his answer was.
I screen grabbed the update and shared it with my FTU community.
More shock, more excitement, more pure disbelief.
But also some encouragement.
This was gaining fuel.
So much so all I could think about was seeing how far I could take it.
Why did it sort of feel actually possible?
I knew, deep down, it wasn’t realistic.
Even if … there was a tiny, almost embarrassing part of me that thought:
…what if?
And that “what if’ became a when.
When Cruz replied three days later.
We spoke about it.
About how anti the whole “nepo baby” thing he is. His parents too.
That’s why he’s doing it his way, learning instruments, starting a band, playing small gigs in bars, filming music videos on an iPhone.
There was something about that I respected.
It made what I was about to ask feel … slightly less ridiculous.
So I asked it.
How much would it cost … to have him involved in a tickle session?
His reply came back almost instantly.
“You wouldn’t be able to afford me.”
Cheeky sod.
What he didn’t know…
Was that, last year, my Nan passed away.
My dad inherited a surprisingly large sum of money.
He shared some of it with me. Some with my brother.
I had £35,000 sitting in my account.
And then, towards the end of the year, my brother… who’s already well off from his own business… gave me his share too.
Another £35,000.
He knew how much it would help me.
A deposit for a flat, something I’ve been building towards for the past three years.
Something sensible.
But when you’re sitting there… messaging Cruz bloody Beckham… talking about arranging something like this…
Those ordinary dreams fizzle into fucking nothing.
I had over £70,000 to my name.
And in that moment, I made a decision.
Go in high, secure the possibility before it had a chance to slip away.
I offered him £50,000.
Included proof, screenshots of my account and a short, direct outline of what I’d want, when, where, how it would work.
Five minutes later…
He accepted, but first …
