A NICE festive theme this week: violence. Some, like stricken boxer Paul Ingle, fight to make a living the best way they can; others, like the rival football fans at the Sheffield and Lancashire derbies, do it out of sheer animal hatred of the opposition.

CS gas, police dogs and armoured vehicles were all used at Sheffield, while Burnley fans went on a rampage after losing the first derby against Blackburn for 17 years.

Blackburn fan Jack Straw, otherwise known as the Home Secretary, was present at Turf Moor, but has since been content to allow William Hague to kick around a "political football" without offering any constructive suggestions of his own.

Still, never mind countering the yob culture - New Labour think it's more important to ban fox hunting.

It may seem cruel to link the tragedy of Ingle with the damage football hooligans inflict on one another, but it all stems from the same basic instinct to fight.

The fact that neither evolution nor civilisation have curbed the fighting instinct underlines that there is no point in continually wheeling out demands for boxing to be banned every time one of its participants suffers a serious head injury.

In any case such injuries are fewer than in equestrian events, in which the tight community of horse lovers simply close ranks and get on with it. They take the attitude that there's far too much pleasure involved to bow to the risks they all know they are taking.

It's the same in boxing, and thankfully the risks have been reduced since Michael Watson suffered his paralysing injury nine years ago. He can now walk a few steps but still needs 24-hour care.

At this time last year everyone was hailing Muhammad Ali as the sportsman of the century, and rarely can laughter and sorrow have been so vividly encapsulated in one moment as during his shaking, stumbling speech on television.

"I enjoyed boxing, and I may be back," he said, leaving us to marvel that such a magnificent specimen of manhood had no regrets that boxing had almost certainly contributed heavily to his tragic decline.

So, boxing will go on. But I would have no objections if it were banned from television, along with all forms of violence, and I would even include East Enders in that.

Professional boxing in its current form could not survive without television, but there's something utterly absurd about a man becoming a millionaire through attempting to bash opponents' brains out.

Amateur boxing clubs would continue to thrive, along with the shows they generate, but with no television there would be none of the attendant nonsense such as too many sanctioning bodies creating too many fights in too many weight divisions for the sake of profits. Then we might remember why boxing used to be known as the noble art.

PAUL Ingle was fighting to retain his IBF title, the International Boxing Federation being one of those fake governing bodies which have sprung up.

Boxing has more initials than Rugby Union, whose European club leaders met in France last week to discuss the way forward. Someone suggested they should call themselves the Concourse de Rugby Association Professionale. For some reason it was turned down.

IT was interesting that the British Boxing Board of Control's appeal against paying compensation to Michael Watson was turned down so soon after Diane Modahl lost her case for compensation from the British Athletic Federation.

While the boxing board will now be bankrupt, it was already too late to save the BAF, which had long since gone bust as a result of fighting Modahl.

It was obvious from the outset she wouldn't win, yet the case dragged on for four weeks, lining lawyers' pockets merely to heighten Modahl's suffering.

HASN'T David Ginola got a lovely body? And doesn't he know it?

Aston Villa boss John Gregory thought it was "pathetic" that Ginola was booked for baring his torso after scoring a goal last Saturday, and if his offence was supposed to be incitement of the fans then I agree.

But there are those of us who reserve the right to laugh our socks off at any come-uppance dished out to Ginola for being one of the biggest posers in a game riddled with them.

Can it be a coincidence that Ginola and Paulo di Canio, who also drew attention to himself at the weekend, both have autobiographies competing for Christmas shoppers' attention?

Why on earth do we glorify these people, along with the likes of Vinny Jones and Ian Wright? If it were left to me I'd punch all their lights out.

Just joking - peace be with you, and may your days be merry and bright