A conversation last Saturday night prior to the boxing match between Joe Clazaghe and Jeff Lacy.

“You’re talking shite Angry, utter fucking shite”, said my mate Fit Mike.

“You’re entitled to your opinion, regardless of how completely fucking deranged it may be”, I replied.

“It’s just simply not possible. No way.”

“I’m telling you now, you only need to look at the relative merits of each fighter to see there can only ever be one winnner.”

“That’s shite, OK, the stats may suggest he’s favourite, but my guy is cunning, and cunning counts for a lot.”

“Maybe so Fit Mike, but cunning doesn’t help you when you’re spitting teeth out of what’s left of your nose. It’s a forgone conclusion. End of story.”

“My guy has that six sense thing where he can almost anticipate any punch, he won’t be able to hit him.”

“Anticipation is important, I grant you that, but my guy has speed in abundance, he’ll have hit him three times whilst he blinks.”

“Well, we’ll just have to see then won’t we.”

“I guess we will, but for now, I’m right, so get the beers in you tight bastard.”

The hypothetical fight between Spiderman and Superman comes up at each and every boxing match we watch. How Fit Mike thinks Spiderman would have so much as a sniff against the last son of Krypton I have no idea. He’s a bit stupid when it comes to things like that.

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