FLOORED BY A SUCKER PUNCH

I GOT punched in the face on Friday night. I came out of a pub with some friends and saw a guy behaving aggressively towards a woman.

I didn’t really have any choice but to intervene – well, I suppose I did, but y’know – and he wasn’t very pleased with me for doing so.

My reward was a quite spectacular slug that left me flat on the floor with a fat lip, a bloody nose and a blackened eye. I spent the weekend looking like a Tweenie.

I’ve never been one for fighting: I lack the violence gene and would normally run a mile from physical confrontation. I don’t think I’ve been in a scrap since primary school. But still, I’m a bit disappointed by my performance. I didn’t even manage to give him a Chinese burn.

I should have remembered the novel Money, by Martin Amis, right. ‘There is only one way to get good at fighting: you have to do it a lot. The reason why most people are no good… is that they do it so seldom, and, in these days of high specialisation, no one really expects to be good at anything unless they put in some time. With violence, you have to keep your hand in.’

In future, I’ll take my Glaswegian wife out with me for protection.

FOR different reasons, over the past few months I’ve had cause to be in both Bute House, the First Minister’s residence, and Dover House, Whitehall HQ of the Scotland Office. What jumped out at me was how little is being made of two wonderful...