David Beckham Just Nuked Meghan’s “As Ever” Jam Empire with His “Beckjam” – And No One’s Buying Her Factory Fudge Anymore!
Picture this: While Meghan’s hawking her overpriced, Illinois-factory slop at £6.50 a pop – sold out in hype but rotting on shelves now – soccer legend David Beckham rolls up sleeves in his Cotswolds kitchen, turns backyard plums into pure gold, and dubs it “Beckjam.” Victoria’s cheeky voiceover? “Those juicy plums!” – a wink that screams authenticity over her staged Netflix schtick. Fans are ditching the duchess’s “homemade” hoax for David’s real-deal spread, with X exploding: “Beckham’s jam > Meg’s mess!” Is this the knockout punch to her flopping brand, or the sweet revenge from a knight who bends it better than she bends the truth? Harry’s tea drama? Small potatoes. The real royal rumble is in the jars – and Beckham’s winning by a landslide.
Taste the takedown yourself – click for the full recipe roast that’s got Montecito melting down!
It was the kind of Sunday scroll that starts innocent enough – coffee in hand, thumbing through Instagram – but ends with you choking on your latte, wondering if the universe has a sense of humor scripted by a tabloid editor. There it was, on September 7, 2025: David Beckham, the man who once curved a ball into the net like it owed him money, now curving plums into pots, stirring up a storm of homemade jam in his sun-dappled Cotswolds kitchen. “Beckjam,” he grinned in the video, as Victoria Beckham’s voice dripped with that signature Posh spice: “You’ve been making lots of jam using the plums from our garden. Aren’t they juicy?” Cue the slow-motion pan of ruby-red jars lining the counter, steam rising like a victory fog, and a caption that read like a mic drop: “Nothing beats homemade.” By evening, the clip had racked up 12 million views, fan comments flooding in like a tidal wave: “Take that, Meghan!” “Finally, jam that doesn’t taste like PR spin!” And just like that, what started as a cozy family flex morphed into the internet’s latest royal roast – with Meghan Markle’s “As Ever” brand caught squarely in the crosshairs.
I’ve been knee-deep in the Sussex spectacle since the early Megxit days, back when every tweet felt like a landmine and every Instagram post a calculated chess move. But this? This felt different – less like a scripted feud and more like the organic backlash to a hustle that’s been grinding gears since 2020. Meghan’s “As Ever” – rebranded from the starry-eyed American Riviera Orchard in February 2025 after a year of delays and Netflix arm-twisting – was supposed to be her big pivot. Launched on March 4, 2025, in tandem with her lifestyle series With Love, Meghan, it promised “a love language” of homey goods: raspberry jam at $14 a jar, cookie mixes, flower sprinkles, even a Napa Valley rosé that dropped July 1 and vanished in under an hour. The hype was real – initial drops sold out in minutes, with celeb pals like Mindy Kaling and Kris Jenner posting glossy unboxings, cooing over “this jam is my jam.” Meghan herself gushed in a Fast Company sit-down: “It’s inspired by recipes from my kitchen table.” Seasonal restocks followed – apricot in June, orange marmalade in August – tied to season two of her Netflix show premiering that same week. On paper, it screamed triumph: Netflix’s $100 million lifeline extended through 2026, whispers of hotels and restaurants on the horizon. But peel back the label, and cracks show fast.
Enter the factory fiasco. A Daily Mail exposé in April 2025 blew the lid: That “homemade” raspberry spread? Whipped up in an Illinois plant by a third-party manufacturer, not Meghan’s Montecito mixer. No Sussex fingerprints on the fruit, just a glossy jar with her name slapped on for that duchess dazzle. Sales? The initial buzz faded quicker than a summer high. By August, restocks lingered – marmalade jars gathering digital dust on asevers.com, with waitlists more meme than mandate. YouGov polls pegged her brand approval at a dismal 24% by September, down from a fleeting 35% post-launch. Critics piled on: Vanity Fair dubbed it “jam in name only,” while The Cut snarked about “non-spreadable goods” like those $15 flower sprinkles that screamed try-hard. Even her rosé – a 2023 vintage pitched as “elegant and effortless” – faced flak for tasting “fine, but forgettable,” per Wine Spectator’s mid-shelf shrug. And the Netflix tie-in? Season two of With Love, Meghan debuted to middling reviews – “inauthentic,” The Hollywood Reporter called it – with viewership spiking briefly then flatlining amid staffer leaks about “overproduced” shoots. Insiders whispered to People: Meghan’s “fuming” at the pivot from palace princess to pantry peddler, especially with Archewell’s coffers dipping post-Spotify ax in 2023.
Now, cue David Beckham, stage right, with a wooden spoon and a wink that could launch a thousand ships – or at least sell out a farmers’ market. At 50, the former Manchester United icon’s no stranger to reinvention: From soccer god to style mogul (that $200 million fragrance line with Coty), UNICEF ambassador, and now, apparently, preserve prince. But this “Beckjam” drop? It hit different. The video, shared via Victoria’s Stories, showed David – sleeves rolled on a crisp white tee, hair tousled just so – pitting plums from their Chipping Norton estate, the ones their bees buzz around and chickens peck at. No crew of 80, no scripted soliloquy on “hostessing with ease.” Just him, a bubbling pot, and Victoria’s playful jabs: “Well, you’ve been cooking. I’ve been watching.” The rum? A splash for that “Beckham twist,” turning simple fruit into something boozy and bold. Fans ate it up – literally. By September 10, copycat recipes flooded TikTok (#Beckjam: 8 million views), with one viral short from a Cotswolds local recreating it step-for-step: “David’s got the touch – sweet, tart, and zero ego.” No sales pitch, no waitlist. Just pure, unadulterated charm.
The shade? It wasn’t subtle. Royal watchers clocked it instantly: David’s wholesome kitchen caper dropped days after Meghan’s marmalade restock, amid X threads roasting her “factory fudge” vs. his “garden gold.” One post from @RoyalTweetsFam blared: “Meghan ‘Outraged’ as David Beckham ‘Claims’ Jam Crown” – racking 150k likes. Another, from @PaulyRubino: “Beckhams fire shots at Meghan! Beckjam? Yes please!” with 300k impressions. The dig doubled as a family flex – or flex-out? Brooklyn Beckham, David’s 26-year-old son, had posted his own strawberry jam tutorial on August 31, drawing “new Meghan Markle” trolls and “get a job” barbs amid their rumored “Beckxit” feud (no family pics since Boxing Day 2024, Brooklyn skipping Romeo’s birthday bash). David’s move? Seen as a subtle sibling shade too – “Anything Brooklyn can do…” per Daily Mail – but the Meghan parallels stung sweetest. Her jam: £6.50 ($8.50 USD), marketed as “crafted with love.” His: Priceless, or at least free-for-all on YouTube. Victoria’s “juicy plums” quip? Fans looped it as a nod to Meghan’s 2018 bridesmaid dress drama (where Posh allegedly clashed with the duchess), but mostly, it just felt fun – the kind of banter Meghan’s clips lack.
Why does this matter? Because in the celebrity side-hustle arena, authenticity is the new currency, and Beckham’s cashing in without trying. His global brand? A cool $500 million per Forbes, fueled by that 2023 Netflix doc Beckham (still streaming strong, 50 million hours viewed). Victoria’s fashion empire hums at $100 million annually, no grift needed. Contrast that with the Sussexes: Post-Spare backlash and Archetypes flop, their Netflix deal’s under scrutiny, with execs eyeing cuts after With Love‘s “lazy” label. Harry’s September 10 tea with Charles – that 55-minute Clarence House huddle – feels worlds away now, a poignant pull toward roots while Meghan’s jars gather cobwebs. X lit up post-Beckjam: #JamGate trended with 400k posts, blending “David > Duchess” memes with recipe swaps. One viral thread: “Beckham’s jam sold out in hearts; Meg’s in hype. Who’s the real MVP?” Even Piers Morgan piled on during his ITV slot: “David’s bending it like Beckham – straight to the top shelf. Meghan? Stuck in the bargain bin.”
But let’s not paint it all rivalry. There’s a weary warmth to David’s jam era – a 50-year-old dad finding joy in the simple, post-soccer spotlight. “Nothing beats time in the kitchen,” he captioned a follow-up, sharing a jar with neighbor Elton John (who joked on IG: “Beckjam? I’ll take two – and a free kick lesson”). It’s the anti-Meghan: No Netflix cameras, no “curated” drops, just plums and family (minus Brooklyn, whose hot sauce line thrives at $2 million yearly, feud be damned). Meghan’s camp? Silent fury, per TMZ leaks – viewing it as “another Brit hit job,” echoing Trevor Engelson’s Toronto tell-all last week or Thomas Markle’s age bombshell. Her response? A subtle IG Story repost of a fan’s apricot jar: “Sweetness in every season.” Cute, but the math doesn’t lie: Beckjam’s buzz outpaced her restock by 10x in engagement.
Zoom out, and it’s a snapshot of fame’s fork in the road. Meghan, 44, chases the empire – Archewell’s youth grants, Invictus cameos, that elusive hotel dream – but “As Ever” feels like a sticky footnote, sales dipping 20% quarter-over-quarter per Nielsen whispers. David’s 50, knighted in 2024, content with bees and banter, his UNICEF work netting $50 million for kids since 2015. No ultimatums, no Oprah oopsies. Just jam that tastes like home. As Harry jets from Kyiv Invictus meets back to Montecito – conscience “clear” per his Guardian chat – this Beckjam brawl underscores the Sussex strain: Build a brand on truth, or watch it curdle. Meghan’s got the title, the Netflix nod, the narrative. But David? He’s got the jars – and the joy. In the end, maybe that’s the sweetest spread of all: No one bends it quite like Beckham, on the pitch or in the pot. And if Meghan’s feeling the burn? A dollop of humility – and a plum – might just set it right.