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10th September 2018
01:56pm BST
The advert opens with Beckham, Becskter, the Beckmeister signing the side of a coffee cup. Logically, it was the best item for this fan to get him to sign as it contains scalding hot liquid and cannot be tilted in the manner shown above because the contents would spill. Certainly a nearby napkin wouldn't suffice, nor would a cardboard slip that goes outside the cup to prevent you from burning your hands, or even a receipt from the till. You see, such is the power of this pen, it can cause nearby liquids to defy gravity and remain in a solid and immovable state when its use is being employed by international football sensation, David Beckham. That coffee isn't going anywhere. Not until David Beckham says so.
In the Twilight / High School Musical dominated era that was 2008, this excitable teen was the perfect casting decision. He's got messy hair, a trait Harry Styles would capitalise on a mere two years later, and he's got dimples. The advertisement wouldn't be believable if it was an elderly woman with chin hair requesting David Beckham's signature upon her bosom, no. It had to be Johnny Handsome, who exudes just the right level of flustered foolishness to ask a celebrity to sign his coffee cup. What a loveable scamp. He's even wearing a cardigan. Just wait until his friends down at the skate park, at which he exclusively rides a children's scooter, get a load of this trophy item.
Woah! Jim Breeech signed your coffee cup! That's so cool! Right across the side too, where the logo normally lands. What a thrill. Quick question though, handsome teen, how are you going to keep this safe? Once you've finished the beverage, the cup will need a thorough rinsing to prevent mould from developing. I once left what I presumed to be an empty coffee cup in my car for two weeks and upon discovery and inspection, the inside looked exactly like an ad for the dangers of harmful bacteria that had been zoomed 100x their original size because it is normally invisible to the naked eye. But no, go off, I guess.
Beckham's interest is visibly piqued during this brief interaction. He's impressed at how the tiny green pen managed to glide across a coffee cup so seamlessly. "Who is she?", he's thinking, "I must know her name, if Victoria permits it". But the teen has no mercy, he snatches the marker back from the man who had an unfathomable net worth in 2008. He might be a hero, but he is undeserving of a free pen as powerful as a Sharpie, which comes in a variety of colours as well as green. You could say, if you were the most garbage advertising executive alive, that Beckham is green with envy!!!!111!!1!!1!!2!!!
Jim Breeech strikes again, this time with a very American shaped orange juice carton and a blue Sharpie. It's a very realistic scenario whereby every citizen alive travels with a Sharpie pen at all times, but nothing to write with it on. Again, a starstruck fan is forced to grab the nearest item to them, which conveniently will test the Sharpie's hardly essential ability to write on inconvenient services, thereby getting the vital Sharpie USP across. Beckham signs the juice with great ease, with his tattoos in focus to highlight the precision of the marker. Perhaps they too have been drawn with a Sharpie. No? Hardly? It cannot be? Has he secretly been a Sharpie ambassador all these years, using their ink for tattoos? No. But really, truly, it make u think x
Again, a fan of David Beckham's must forcefully retrieve his writing implement. "Sorry sir, I am a huge admirer of your craft, but this pen cost a lot of money and I am going to need it back. What if I bump into David Sneddon next week and need him to sign my 12-pack of eggs? He's got the perfect amount of letters in his name to space it out by writing one on each egg. Things like that just don't happen to ordinary people like me. I must have this back. Thank you and good day, sir". Beckham, visibly devastated, leaves the supermarket and returns home. He recites the name 'David Sneddon' over and over so that when he gets home, he can Google it. Unfortunately, Beckham has nothing to write the name down with. Not yet, anyway.
A standard occurrence for a blurry David Beckham seen above, whereby he is involved in an altercation with a young child because he was so taken by the pen with which she asked him to sign an autograph using, he now must steal from her rather than purchasing one himself. Beckham is visibly struggling because he, a professional athlete, is no match for a very tiny girl dressed like a princess. Her strength is unfathomable for her age and stature, similar to the Sharpie's ability to write on any surface, funnily enough. His waistcoat is becoming tousled, such is the ferocity with which he is straining to snatch a pen from a young girl's grip. They both want it so much. Clearly, it must be a terrific writing instrument. I would kill for a Sharpie.
In his final interaction, Jim Beeech has just signed a magazine (on which he was the cover image) for a lady at a petrol station. While she was distracted by the fraudulent signature, Beckham hides the Sharpie behind his back. He simply must have this marker. The woman notices his indiscretion and serves up a stern look, to which Beckham acts confused. At this point, he has either put the pen in his back pocket or, excuse the profanity, right up his butt. His arms emerge from behind his back empty and claiming innocence. It seems to have worked. David Beckham has managed to steal the highly coveted marker from a fan, which is a real win considering they cost roughly £1, or at an absolute push, £2, at the time.
Suddenly, everything begins to make sense. It's not about the money, or even the act of theft. It's about a good quality product. David Beckham, multimillionaire, will do anything to have this pen, even assaulting a young girl. (He didn't push his luck with the male fans, that's worth noting, but put on a more aggressive stance with the girls, ultimately successfully stealing from a woman, but that think piece is for another day). Finally, everything adds up. Antony Worrall Thompson stole groceries from the self-scan checkout because he could, not because he needed to. The Fibonnaci Sequence makes sense. The hole in the ozone layer actually is reversible. Gareth Gates didn't deserve to triumph over Will Young. Everything is clear now.
Beckham drives off in his presumably fancy car, thrilled with himself. He's topless though, probably from all the sweating that comes with being involved in low risk crime. It's surprising that he hasn't got a coffee though, or some groceries from the supermarket. We can tell he's got petrol because the car is in motion, so that's good. But he's also got a new Sharpie, hence that smirk. Now just where has he stored it? In his back pocket? Still up his butt? Belted safely into the passenger seat beside him like a Chinese takeaway? What about the lady he stole from? Has she got a multipack of Sharpies at home, hence her willingness to allow the theft to take place?
HANG ON A SECOND. That's Beckham's shirt. He has signed it and then given it to the petrol station lady who now appears to be standing in the middle of a residential neighbourhood. Look, I'll say it: Did they fuck? Did Beckham engage in consensual sexual relations with this woman in exchange for a multi-surface marker? She looks happy, there's definitely a trace of a post-coital glow. One of two things has happened here. Beckham has either fucked a stranger for a Sharpie pen or quite literally given the shirt off his back in his obtention of one. The closing scene is crucial. We need answers. Take us home, David Beckham OBE.
Okay, they for sure fucked. Beckham has the pen as a trophy, hanging proudly from his rearview mirror. There's a dog tag necklace beside it as well, which suggests that this isn't his first instance of doing something untoward in a bid to obtain an unnecessary object. Look at his face, he's besotted, smirking at his prize. People have all manner of kinks, but this one is certainly out there. David Beckham has signed a coffee cup, orange juice bottle, almost beaten up a child and then had relations with a woman at a petrol station in his quest to get a Sharpie pen. Not even the best one (standard black), but a gaudy orange marker. That's quite a length to go to for a very specific product. I have cracked it. That's what the advert means. You should be willing to do anything to get your hands on material possessions, even adultery. I must tell everyone. I will write a letter to the world. If only I had something sturdy and reliable to write it- Wow. WOW. Wow. Advertising works.
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