Helter ... Skelton

Last month, I sat down to watch a bit of biennial charity panjandrum Sport Relief on the Beeb. I was particularly keen to watch the celebrity boxing, as they hadn't run that for a good while.

The men's bout was between retired pro footballer Wayne Bridge and a reality star I'd never heard of (Spencer Matthews), and was a proper tear-up. Matthews had boxed before, and it showed, but Bridge was stronger, had trained harder and was much, much fitter. He was a clear and deserving winner.

The second women's bout was between Hannah Spearitt (yes, her out of S Club 7) and Vanessa White (yes, her out of The Saturdays). There wasn't too much in that, to be honest, though you might argue that youth told, with White the clear winner. Neither looked like much of a boxer but they gave it a good go, and hey, getting hit in the face for charity - fair play to them both.

But the first women's bout, between former Blue Peter presenter Helen Skelton and another reality star, Camilla Thurlow, was, like the men's bout, a proper contest. Both women had clearly trained hard and it showed, in terms of basic technique and also cardiovascular fitness. But only one looked like a boxer, in terms of how she moved and, in particular, how she snapped out an excellent jab. It will have come as no surprise to anyone who remembered Helen's past Sport Relief endeavours (solo kayaking the length of the Amazon, and setting a load of records in the process, and tightrope-walking between the towers of Battersea Power Station) to see Skelton triumph in clear and unanimous fashion. She was, it must be said, pretty awesome.

And my point with all this? Just like, last month, I started (and then couldn't stop) deliberately mis-singing the lyrics of Soft Cell's Bedsitter, now I'm re-writing the chorus of an old Beatles number. All together now, Helen Skelton, bah dah dah dah da-da-dah, Helen Skelton....

Donate to Sport Relief here, if you like.