As the blimp flew overhead proclaiming “The World Is Yours” Tony Montana already knew he had it all. He had the money, he had the power and he even had the women. That it took running a ruthless cocaine cartel and brutally murdering anyone who crossed him to acquire it just made things more interesting. All David Beckham had to do to eclipse the diminutive (and fictional) Cuban was kick a soccer ball better than everyone else. For him this singular skill has led to all the money, all the power and even all the women – though he did settle on uber-babe Posh Spice – in the world. That’s pretty impressive for a guy who didn’t have to bother with running around shooting off an M16 rifle with a grenade launcher to get it (though he did don a distinctly Montana-like white suit on more than one occasion).

The media (and those of us sucking daily at its engorged teat) went more or less insane as Team Beckham made the move to the USA. Breathless accounts of his superior fashion sense, his style, his metrosexual-ness and yes, even his soccer skills filled the papers as the transformative nature of his very presence on US soil was heralded like a second coming. Movie stars genuflected reverently while Psycho Tom and Stepford Katie became his official BFFs, throwing a Hollywood party that featured more derriere kissing than an Amsterdam bathhouse. Millions upon millions of dollars were earmarked for the man who could apparently bend it like no other and the entire world, including each and every single thing in it, was now truly his.

So could someone explain to me why the hell David Beckham can’t afford a friggen Sharpie of his own?

Sharpie markers is running an all-new ad campaign featuring the famous footballer signing autographs all over the place. He signs coffee cups, he signs magazines, shirts and whatever else is offered. Each time he signs with the Sharpie handed to him Beckham longingly lusts for the colorful ink delivery system resting in his hand. And each time he tries, unsuccessfully, to snitch whatever Sharpie is offered to him for signing. In each case the grateful autograph hounds turn annoyed or frustrated at the royal one’s attempts to steal their respective pens. Finally, Beckham signs a shirt for a woman and hides the orange sharpie she offered him behind his back. He raises his arms as if to say “What, I don’t have it.” Make no mistake though - the limey lifted it - and the poor woman can do nothing. The final scene shows our man David driving away in his hyper-expensive car (worth much more than my house I am sure) with his ill-gotten Sharpie now dangling from the mirror. David smiles happily as he now, finally, has everything he could ever wish for.

I get it okay. I get the whole “Mr. I have every single thing a human man could ever dream of” Beckham is so entranced by Sharpie and their super fantastic awesome pens that he will do anything get one. Now, while this is supposed to make me realize how awesome Sharpies are, thus making me want one for myself, all I can think about is why big shot Becks doesn’t spend some of his King Solomon-like hoard on a pack for himself. I mean c’mon, we’ve been treated non-stop to stories about how much money this man earns or is worth. $250 million bucks to play soccer, endorsement deals with seemingly every product known to man. Beckham literally has money dripping from every orifice in his body and I have to endure an ad where the rich sod kleptos a Sharpie for himself? It’s like they think we haven’t been paying attention or something.

Is it really a good sales technique to make your world famous pitchman come off looking like a cheap yutz? Armani has Zeppelin-sized billboards of Becks wearing nothing more than their exclusive ginch and sporting a package the size of the Capital Records building to boot. Now that’s something I can see myself wanting to identify with (far too much I’m sad to say) yet Sharpie thinks I’m going to buy a whack of markers ‘cause Beckham thinks they’re worth ripping off? At least if Tony Montana wanted to steal my Sharpie he’d have the courtesy to blow me away first. It would save me the trouble of wondering why the man who has everything needed my Sharpie too.