I like playing sports. I like watching sports. There is something about the physical endeavor it requires, the element of competition, the stretching of yourself and the monumental efforts of the team you play in or support, that draw me in. I would have loved to have been a professional sportsman. Or an Astronaut.

I do not however, like pantomimes. The so-called comedy theatrics, the costumes, the mind-numbing inevitability of it all, and worst of all, the clichéd cringe-worthy audience participation.

So, when these two pastimes are combined, I find myself furious at the tarnishing of activities referred to as ’sports’.

Let us be clear. Wrestling is not a sport. It is a show, much like ‘The Miserables’ or that one with all the people on roller-skates pretending to be trains. Just because the people train, and look like trained killers does not make it a sport.

“Did you see Wrestlemania at the weekend Angry? It was ace!” asked my colleague Dave upon my return to the office last week.

“What, in the name of fuck, makes you think that I would watch that thinly-veiled homo-erotic pantomime of a sports event?”

“Come here”

SMACK!

“Fucking hell Angry, what was that for?!”

“It was because you are a twenty-five year old man who watches children’s television at all hours of the night. It is both sad and wrong. And I hate you. Now go away and do not come back until you’ve got some proper conversation topics for real adults.”

We spent the afternoon talking about tits by the way.

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