When I told my colleagues I was going to a boxing match last week they were incredulous.
“So you like watching sweaty men beating each other to a pulp,” said one.
“You’re turning into a boy,” said another friend.
As it turned out, the charity boxing black tie dinner was mostly about dinner, drinking and conspicuously generous corporate charity, with only a fraction of the time devoted to watching the boxing.
There were eight bouts – each with three 1.5 minute rounds – and the boxers were well clad in bright padded headguards and boxing gloves filled with “shock-absorbent polyurethane foam”, and some intimidating protective plastic mouthguards. In the end, there’s no getting away from the fact that even with all that protection, there’s still blood spraying everywhere, but at least I didn’t have to watch a major knock-out like in the Ricky Hatton vc Manny Pacquiao fight at the weekend.