Analysts have been quick to describe it as “the biggest divorce in history” – and it certainly seems to involve more and larger yachts than most divorces do. Six or seven additional houses and one or two further private aeroplanes, as well, now you mention it.

Yet, as Roman Abramovich, the billionaire Russian oligarch and owner of Chelsea Football Club, separates from his second wife, Irina, a former Aeroflot air hostess, mystery shrouds the exact terms of the separation agreement that the couple drew up under protective legislation in Russia.

Who could fail to respect their fierce desire for privacy in this matter? The stripping apart of a couple’s collective assets is always painful, even harrowing. During the course of a shared life, objects become invested with sentimental value way beyond their intrinsic worth.

Take those four enormous yachts, for example. That might look like a cool £189 million of ocean-going hardware to you or me, but you can be sure that, to the Abramoviches, the boats are worth so much more than that. Logistically, the division of property raises tricky problems, too. What good is half a yacht to anyone?

It’s no one’s business but the Abramoviches, of course, as to how they agree to divide their property. At the same time, when the owner of one of the country’s biggest football clubs sits down with his soon-to-be-former wife to apportion their assets, the public may feel that it has a right to know at least some of the arrangements. Hence our own painstaking inquiries behind the scenes, yielding the following account of the separation, which, although it may not be accurate in every detail, is probably as reliable as any other report on the divorce that you will read.

With regard to Stamford Bridge, then, our understanding is that Mrs Abramovich gets the East Stand and the South Stand (formerly the Shed End), while Mr Abramovich retains the West Stand and North Stand, also known as the Matthew Harding Stand. This is to include all relevant snack bars and their commercial pie-heaters. Mrs Abramovich also receives 90 corporate dining tables, each seating 12, with an appropriate number of stackable chairs and 45 yards of demountable screening.

Allegedly, Mrs Abramovich has also been awarded one half of the bar known as Ossie’s, located to the rear of the North Stand, including related taps, kegs and bottled mixers. It is not known whether this asset comes with any obligation to manage or staff the bar, which can get hectic on match days.

From the dressing-room area, meanwhile, Mrs Abramovich is understood to have had her lawyer’s request for the home changing-room’s luxury floor-to-ceiling lockers in reproduction ash declined, but to have been given, by way of consolation, the shower attachments from the away changing-room and, from the referee’s room, the clothes pegs and lock off the lavatory door.

Moving on to the Megastore, it is understood that Mrs Abramovich was extremely keen to keep the Chelsea curtains. Also the Chelsea duvet and pillow case sets and matching lampshades. However, Mr Abramovich, who is also reportedly fond of those items (and understandably so, for they are quality), may not have made this easy for her. Accordingly, Mrs Abramovich may have settled instead for 450 Chelsea eggcups, a broad selection of silver-style key rings and 60,000 unsold copies of Totally Frank by Frank Lampard, with the rights to republish or pulp, as she sees fit.

From the museum, Mrs Abramovich is understood to have been granted the following: one pair of boots as worn by Ron “Chopper” Harris during the club’s successful 1969-70 FA Cup campaign, slightly bloodied and bearing traces of gristle. Resale value via eBay: £50-150.

One complicated electronic interactive entertainment device, enabling Mrs Abramovich to take penalties against a grippingly realistic computer simulation of Petr Cech, valued at £3,500, including shock-proof rubber floor mat and easy-assembly wall mountings.

A signed photograph of Micky Droy, slightly foxed, worth £1.25.

It is believed, though, that Mrs Abramovich intends to leave the above items in situ at the museum for the enjoyment and enlightenment of future generations. She is, however, seeking to take item one, Chopper’s boots, on loan periodically, to be able to enjoy them, suitably cased, in the privacy of her home.

Turning to Cobham, the site of the Chelsea training complex in Surrey: Mrs Abramovich is the recipient of four six-a-side goals, with nets, and is believed to have secured all of the orange cones. Mr Abramovich retains the yellow cones. Mrs Abramovich receives the blue bibs and the white bibs. Mr Abramovich keeps the yellow and the green bibs.

In addition, under the heading “Stamford Bridge sundries”, Mrs Abramovich seems to have received a lawnmower (petrol-powered, sit-upon), a garden fork, several plastic crates suitable for the carriage of Lucozade and four bales of electric fencing, unused, with plug, and believed to be the property of the former owner of the club, who may yet dispute this award.

Mrs Abramovich also gets Michael Ballack. This item was apparently uncontested by Mr Abramovich.

Moyles must be a marked man

Today’s gala opening of the new Wembley Stadium is, given the long and troubled saga preceding it, an occasion for great and uncomplicated joy. Nevertheless, a worrying shadow hovers over the occasion. For the decision to lift the curtain on the ground with a match involving celebrities has raised the possibility that the first goal at the new national stadium could be scored by Chris Moyles.

It’s an outcome that would be likely to test the limits of any Radio 1 DJ’s modesty and would certainly tax Moyles’s. We would, it is fairly safe to say, never hear the end of it.

It can still be prevented, though – and must be. Nothing less than the history of football in England demands that someone – a self-sacrificing hero – man-mark Moyles today until the critical moment has passed. Possibly three people. Sitting on him, if necessary.

Even if, with Moyles pinned down on the edge of his own penalty area, the honour ends up going to Ben Fogle, the presenter of the BBC’s Crufts coverage, or to one of the blokes from Westlife, it would, surely, be something the game could more easily live with when the record books come to be written.

World Cup plans lack ambition

Complaints have been heard that this cricket World Cup is too long – at 48 days, the festival in the West Indies is only just shy of a football World Cup and an Olympics nailed together.

Still, you can see the thinking. If you’re going to go to the Caribbean, it might as well be for a month and a half. Indeed, the planners may have erred on the shy side. They could have broken through the 50-day barrier by expanding the competition to include teams from countries where there is no real cricketing culture – such as Finland, China or Ireland. What’s that? Ireland are already in it? Blimey.