The Plastic Hippo

March 17, 2015

Punch drunk

Filed under: Media,Politics,Sport — theplastichippo @ 2:01 am
Tags: , , , ,


Now come on – be honest. Which of us has not been tempted to land a forceful right hook into the face of some annoying idiot that has to be endured in a common workplace? For all our professionalism and adherence to non-violence, an occasional punch-up is inevitable especially when co-workers behave in a way that is not the way we expect. I am deeply ashamed to admit that I once lamped at bloke at work so I can fully empathise with the anguish and trauma that national treasure Jeremy Clarkson must be feeling.



If we are being honest, which of us after a few drinks with some mates has been tempted to pull on the gloves and have a boxing match in the kitchen. I am deeply ashamed to admit that I have never done that even after the disgraceful episode when “someone” opened the oven door causing the Yorkshire puddings to collapse before they were ready. On that basis, I have great sympathy for national treasure Wayne Rooney who suffers from mates prepared to film the rumble in the kitchen and then flog the footage to the tabloids for money.

Mr Rooney and Mr Clarkson made front page headlines not because their private activities in any way resemble news, but because the tabloids and – by implication – the public are obsessed with notoriety. Football fans of Manchester United and Sunderland of all genders might experience guilty pleasure at the thought of Wayne and Phil Bardsley squaring up in the manner of Oliver Reed and Alan Bates in Women in Love, but the reality is that they were two blokes being…well…blokes. Ken Russell is dead and so was not behind the camera.

The responses from the two national treasures to these manufactured controversies were very different. Mr Clarkson laughed off the nonsense and called his mate Dave for support. Apparently the Prime Minister`s children enjoy Top Gear so workplace violence is perfectly acceptable as long as the pugilist is too lucrative to fire. Mr Rooney was more fortunate. Instead of garnering a ringing endorsement from David Cameron, he received a shocking back pass, shrugged off three defenders and scored a cracking goal. His celebration involved a bit of shadow boxing and a prat fall worthy of Buster Keaton when floored by an imaginary Mike Tyson.

To be honest, Wayne Rooney is not likely to win Brain of Britain but his talent is in his feet and footballing brain and his answer to invented and rather hysterical tabloid criticism killed the boxing story stone dead. Clarkson, on the other hand, might yet face criminal charges once the coincidental issue of his contract renewal with the BBC has been resolved. He might be a tart but he is a tart who knows where the money can be found.

At this point it is probably best to clarify the circumstances of me thumping a bloke at work. I can categorically state that I did not return from the pub after a night drinking on expenses and then demand a steak, again on expenses. I did not express any racist, sexist or homophobic “humour” and I did not say anything controversial in the pursuit of notoriety and money. It was, instead, a moment of irrationality that was instantly regretted. I am so, so sorry.

A bloke that I worked with had pinned a young women, who I also worked with, against a wall and was attempting to put his tongue down her throat and his hand up her skirt. In a moment of sheer madness my left hand dragged him back by the collar and my right fist delivered a forceful right hook to his surprised face. It is to my undying shame that he was unconscious before he hit the floor. All that pretentious talk of Karma and non-violence went out of the window along with my pacifist credibility. I called the Old Bill and reported myself for assault and ABH.

Interestingly, the local constabulary declined to caution me and instead arrested the bloke I`d flattened on serious charges. The next morning, the company we all worked for sent me a bunch of flowers and a thank you note telling me that the bloke had been dismissed. The young woman`s father sent me a bottle of single malt and the police later told me that the bloke would probably end up in the nick.

Mercifully, this disgraceful incident did not attract the attention of the tabloids and so I managed to once again avoid being categorized as a national treasure that happens to be handy with his fists. Spare a thought for Jeremy Clarkson.

After all, he`s only doing his job.

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