There must have been a better way. Football is a game where things fall into place, where Matt Le Tissier scores the 89th-minute winner in the last ever game at The Dell. And where Arsenal go unbeaten throughout the whole season by claiming a draw on the final-day at White Hart Lane. These things are meant to be.

When we rock up to the pearly gates, the big man (Beadle) will be cackling away, saying, "You didn't really think these things were just luck did you? Like an episode of Eastenders, it was all a badly scripted, largely false and hugely unrealistic experiment, you dang fool."

So why is it then that tonight Beckham joins the 100-club (and footballing centurians of the Three Lions past in the shape of Billy Wright, Bobby Charlton, Bobby Moore and Peter Shilton) in, err, Paris.

It was so set-up .. England v Switzerland, new dawn, new era, old heroes - Capello unveiled, Beckham unleashed for a 100th time, a comfortable win, and the adulation of the new Wembley crowd.

But non, mais oui. Et zut alors!

He'll be trotting out at Stade de France (a rugby ground FFS) tonight. I mean, if he's really unlucky he could end up marking Franck Ribery.

But whether you agree with honouring our Becks on a night when even Louis Saha gets a game, respect where it is due - a true ambassador to the English game, a solid patriot in an era of nationalistic apathy (blame the government and David Bentley in equal quantities for that one), and a trojan for the plight of husbands having to put up with really fucking annoying wives.

Well played Becks, bon chance, et pain au chocolat mon petit pois.