Happy birthday, Barack. On 4 August, the president of the United States of America celebrated the inglorious age of 49. There was no Marilyn-style serenade. Nor was there a nice family picture in the Rose Garden (Michelle was in Spain). There was, however, a deeply personal "Organising for America" e-card drive, encouraging millions of Americans to offer their contact details in exchange for writing Mr Obama a "personal note (optional)".

Ah, the trials of presidency. Your wife, whose approval ratings overshadow your own, abandons ship. Your children are on holiday. And you are left with the family dog, Bo, to contemplate the 545 birthday-themed events taking place across the country, from a "49 candles for America" celebration in Des Moines, Iowa, to a "Yes we cake!" party in Evanston, Illinois. Never let it be said that the Democrats missed an opportunity to turn a milestone of birth (a birth whose location is hotly, if madly, disputed by Mr Obama's more extreme opponents) into a nationwide marketing opportunity.

Poor Barack. There's always next year.