COMING TO AMERICA UTV, Tuesday
THE OPEN BBC 2, Friday

THE Premiership seems to be creeping up on us again, with all the stealth of an asthmatic ninja.

Sky and Setanta are already running their highoctane ad campaigns, trying to whip us up into a frenzy and get us giddy to subscribe for a twohorse race and a whole lot of filler. And yes, sometime in the dead of winter we'll be glad of its presence, but at the moment it feels like an old country and western song . . . how can I miss you if you won't go away?

Shouldn't this be soccer's off-season? The Copa America deservedly got our attention by being one of the most entertaining international tournaments in years, but the tabloids and Sky Sports News are permanently in a kneeling position (at least) in front of Murdoch's altar, so much so that news of a transfer that might happen takes precedence over things that actually have happened. Far from Carlos Tevez being an 'exciting' signing for Manchester United, most people are bored with the whole affair already. Reaching saturation point before the season starts is not a good thing. This couch has decided that it needs some time away from soccer, particularly the clingy girlfriend that is the Premiership. It's not me, it's you.

But soccer has become omnipresent and there's no escape. Last week there was a contestant on Mastermind whose specialist subject was Tottenham Hotspur. Ah here.

Contestants of the past used to pick pre-Raphaelite Churches or the life and times of some obscure Dutch botanist as their specialist subjects, now there's questions about Pascal Chimbonda. Mastermind's standards have fallen.

Even Family Guy, a programme so steeped in American pop culture that many of the jokes are based on obscure Stateside ad campaigns, managed to work in a soccer joke. In the scene psychotic baby Stewie is pondering a bad situation and proclaims that, "This is worse than getting a birthday telegram from Zinedine Zidane." There's a quick cut to Zidane approaching a house carrying a gift basket, he rings the doorbell, waits patiently and when an old woman answers, he headbutts her. That's right Zizou, a career full of balletic turns and mesmeric performances but people now just think of you as a baldy nut job.

Well, maybe Americans just don't get soccer. What they are getting is the Beckhams, whether they like it or not. Victoria Beckham: Coming to America was about Mrs Beckham getting ready for the family's move stateside, a reality show so disconnected from reality that a disclaimer came up at the start to say that Victoria's personal assistant was being played by an actress. The programme started with Posh and Becks doing a magazine photo shoot in the desert, the resulting glossy and vacant pictures looking like those that usually accompany perfume adverts with both Beckhams oiled, buffed and painted to perfection. If a picture says a thousand words, this picture would write a thesis on how it's a miracle that Beckham and Alex Ferguson managed to work together as long as they did.

Becks pretty much disappeared for the rest of the programme, but his shadow hung over it. When Posh had to hire a PA, she said the girl mustn't be prettier or thinner than she is, the implication being she didn't want David to feel tempted as he was with Rebecca Loos. Shortly after there was an 'awkward' conversation where the PA admitted that she found David attractive . . . except of course that there was nothing awkward about it as the PA was an actress and the whole thing was staged. Apparently the people pushing the Beckham family brand think it's a good idea to remind the public that Daddy isn't above philandering. Maybe some PR company decided that it adds an edge and the important thing is to be talked about, no matter what people are saying, but it was all very unwholesome and kind of sad.

Far more wholesome is US golfer Boo Weekley, a genyou-wine good 'oul home boy from the Redneck Riviera who enjoys chewin' tobacco, wrestling alligators and occasionally impressing on the golf course. The BBC's Hazel Irvine clearly didn't know what to make of him. When she quizzed him on what the British Open meant to him growing up, he shrugged and said he didn't really watch golf. Indeed, just a day earlier he had failed to recognise Paul Lawrie, asking him if he was a qualifier. But Hazel persisted and sounded slightly perturbed as she asked was he not aware of the glorious history of the Open? "No mam, I don't really keep up with golf. Jus' huntin' and fishin' for me." Good for you Boo, no Premiership subscription either I'll bet.