David Beckham in LA. Of course those chappies over that big pond haven’t a clue about football. I mean, their version of the game is one where it takes them two hours to get all that gear on and then they break the first rule of rugby by throwing the ball forward.

And while Becks was addressing the hordes of eight-year-old schoolgirls, the authorities showed their complete lack of knowledge of the game by placing the corner flag in the middle of the pitch! Oops, my mistake, it was of course Posh eating a Galaxy bar before running to the toilet (sorry, bathroom), to get rid of it. And wasn't it great to hear the kids screaming ‘soccer, soccer,’ in their American drawl? Translated into proper English, they were actually telling Becks to ‘sack her’.

On to today’s amazing breaking news, police raiding the offices of Portsmouth, Newcastle United and Glasgow Rangers. One thing is certain, they won’t be finding any silver cups with the clubs’ names inscribed. With all that cash swilling around from match-day programmes, hamburgers and Coca Cola sales, without prejudice, one wonders if VAT invoices are presented to the fans at the point of purchase. I’m sure Mr Plod and his expert assistants will find nothing untoward and the laundering will continue unabated (that’s the kit I’m talking about).

'Whatever your views on the ethics of a disabled runner participating in an able-bodied event, he’s doing his bit for the environment. You can be sure he won’t be leaving a real carbon footprint'

So the Copa America is on its way back to Rio (or Portsmouth, Newcastle, Glasgow). What happened to the Argentinians? To use the strapline from the famous UK TV advert, they were well and truly Tango’d. The final did not disappoint, with football of the highest quality and, more importantly, national anthems of operatic proportions. For me, the anthems were the highlight of the tournament, each one being at least half an hour long with thumping tunes and most days of the year covered as a modern history lesson as each country was unveiled.

There’s certainly no English footballer who could remember all the words to such operettas. Being a good lip reader, I’ve often seen Wayne Rooney singing ‘the referee’s a w***er’ while the rest of the boys in white shirts are proudly standing, arms on their hearts in a rendition of ‘God Save The Queen’.

You have to admire Oscar Pistorius, the double amputee known as 'blade runner', taking part in his first Grand Prix at the weekend. The 400-metre runner, who competes on carbon legs, is too good for paraplegic sport (surely he’s good enough for Portsmouth, Newcastle, Rangers), so he’s thrown his prosthetics out of the cot and joined the main circuit. Whatever your views on the ethics of a disabled runner participating in an able-bodied event, he’s doing his bit for the environment. You can be sure he won’t be leaving a real carbon footprint.