‘Change is needed’, proclaimed an ostensibly charged Barack Obama during his troop-rallying call in New Hampshire on Super Tuesday. It’s a sentiment that’s bound to strike a chord with the undoubtedly politically impermeable David Beckham, especially after Fabio Capello opted to leave his newly adopted Country’s sweetheart marooned beyond the fringes of his first England squad.

So what does the mass marketed male half of Brand Beckham do now? Well, there a definitely a handful of ways he could rope in that chronically craved cap, not least along the hurriedly woven lines of public sympathy. Oh look, David’s thwacking a football about in Sierra Leone wearing a pair of denims whose left hemline looks like it’s had more money pumped into it than the entire village his silver, bulletproof safari vessel has parked up in.

Don’t fret though David, we as a nation will rouse the common consciousness. We’ll poke around at your fading image of a footballer like vultures at a corpse with frequent tabloid coverage, archived Match of the Day justification and arguments about how you can still ‘deliver the perfect ball into the box.’ We’ll pledge our ineffable support and grieve over your crushing exclusion from the England team. What’s more, we’ll create an immediate chasm between country and manager by clutching onto past sentiment rather than going with the new, practical approach to the game that our disarmingly aloof leader wants to implement. 

Just as Barack Obama’s presidential campaign is in danger of becoming astutely anchored by Hillary Clinton’s strategic emotional vignettes, Beckham the name is now jeopardising the fresh, forward facing stance of the national football team.

However much the public’s war cry sounds on, it’s profoundly likely that this illustrious hundredth cap will come to Mr Beckham in the form of a crowning one in the ass from Signore Capello rather than the nod for a jovial, ten-minute jaunt in a Three Lions shirt.