Plastic-faced ring announcer Michael Buffer summed it up best: “The last time this many Brits invaded the USA it was 1812 and you burned down the White House!”

It’s not often The Buffer, of ‘Let’s Get Ready To Ruuuumblllle’ fame, allows himself to be drowned out by a crowd, but he was fighting a losing battle against the 6,000 Brits crammed into the MGM Grand Garden Arena for the big-fight weigh-in.

Bizarrely, Floyd Mayweather’s only support appeared to come from 100 or so schoolchildren waving cute home-made banners, although even they didn’t escape the wrath of Hatton’s Army, with a few verses of “You’re Supposed To Be At School” flung their way.

Bernard Hopkins and Joe Calzaghe were a very entertaining warm-up act, and if they could only put their differences behind them they would make a bomb on the panto circuit.

America’s former middleweight king Hopkins reacted to some particularly fruity chants with a couple of extravagant cut-throat gestures before Calzaghe flung his head back, guffawed and launched into a spot of comedy shadow-boxing.

This didn’t please Hopkins much, with the 42-year-old deciding it was time to check whether Calzaghe had indulged in any garlic for lunch.

Three-weight world champion Shane Mosley, in Vegas as part of Oscar de la Hoya’s promotional team, skulked in the background, grinned and shook his head, as if he was slightly embarrassed by his old pal’s behaviour.

Half an hour earlier it had all kicked off between Hopkins and Calzaghe in the media centre, and even former heavyweight king Lennox Lewis, who was partial to a pre-fight barney himself, broke off an interview to see what was what.

The two rivals were giving it bunches, to the extent that at one stage I thought I was going to become the filling in a Hopkins-Calzaghe sandwich, which would probably be more nutritious than breakfast down at ChinChin Chinese buffet.

Calzaghe’s promoter, Frank Warren, 6,000 miles away in England, must have been rubbing his hands together with glee when he heard the news – expect that fight to happen in the States next summer.

Back at the weigh-in, Oscar charmed the crowd with some cod old man boxing moves, before The Buffer, who appears to have spent his Thanksgiving in Oompa Loompa Land, cleared his throat and introduced the main protagonists to the scales.

Hatton, looking trimmer than a butcher’s apron and more pumped up than a bouncy castle, took to the scales with that now familiar refrain of Walking In A Hatton Wonderland ringing in his ears.

Mayweather had to make do with Fatty’s Gonna Get Ya, although I got the sense that none of the Americans on stage could understand a single word of what was being sung.

In fact, what Mayweather’s crew made of the whole proceedings can only be guessed at, but I’m thinking they found the idea of thousands of Mancs turning up to see a couple of blokes step on some scales a little bit weird.

Apparently they had been queuing to get a glimpse of their hero since 4am, and it’s no wonder Hatton said earlier in the week that he felt “worshipped” by every single one of them.

It all ended with the usual shenanigans - Mayweather pushing Hatton, Hatton pushing Mayweather - and the fans marched out happy, their thirst for battle slaked ahead of Saturday’s main event.

After the madness I tracked down Angelo Dundee back in the media centre, and what good shape the old legend is in.

Now 86, the venerable trainer, who guided 15 boxers to world titles, could pass for 20 years younger, and the genuine enthusiasm he had for the big fight was heart-warming.

Every now and again during our chat he’d touch my knee, and it occurred to me that these were the hands that ripped ‘that’ glove against Henry Cooper, the hands that slapped the face of Sugar Ray Leonard - the hands that massaged Muhammad Ali.

For the record, Angelo picked Mayweather to win on cuts, but De la Hoya, Lewis and Britain’s former super-middleweight king Richie Woodhall, who has switched allegiances, are going with Hatton.

For what it’s worth, I’m sticking with Mayweather on points, which didn’t stop me from heading down the sports book and sticking a tenner on the draw at far juicier odds.

The bookies back in Blighty are reporting that Hatton, the 6-4 underdog, is the heaviest backed British individual ever and William Hill expects more than £10m to be bet on the fight.

Popular bloke, Our Ricky - be sure you’re cheering him on when he really needs you in the wee small hours of Sunday morning.

Who are you backing to win? Will you let your heart rule your head? Or do you genuinely believe Hatton has the tools to do it?

Where are you going to watch the fight? Will you be drinking through or setting the alarms early? Has your missus or fella suddenly become a boxing fan? Are the kids wanting in on the fun?

Send us all your Hatton-Mayweather chat - I’ll be back on here and getting stuck into the arguments at various points between now and kick-off.

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Read my other Vegas articles...

Part One:
Welcome to Vegas

Part Two:
Mayweather v Hatton is hotting up

Part Three:
'Undefeated' comes to the boil

Part Four:
Viva Manc Vegas