TV VIEW:WE THOUGHT of Martin Keown on Saturday when we were flicking through our digital world of sport to see what was on the menu. The former Arsenal man, we were informed, got a bit muddled on Football Focus when he talked about Sky getting their money "from prescription payers".

And to be honest, we were in need of a prescription ourselves, for a decidedly dodgy tummy, after we happened upon that Ultimate Fighting Championship (UFC) lark in digital land. "Live from Birmingham, England," as distinct from Alabama.

"Whoooooah, nice knee," howled the commentator on Setanta when Luiz Cane nigh-on sent the head of Rameau Thierry "African Assassin" Sokoudjou into the middle of next week.

"Excellent elbow," roared the other commentator, who concluded that "Luiz Cane is no joke, man!"

True enough, Rameau wasn't laughing.

Now, we know people who like this stuff and have been UFC fans for years, and they're good people too; most of them have earned a second chance from society after serving their time.

They've so far, though, failed to really explain to us the attraction of these sporting bloodbaths, which make your average punch-up in a Compromise Rules game look like a scene from Swan Lake.

What is admirable about it all, however, is that these fellas take their batterings in such good spirits. Like Rameau.

After his head was retrieved from Row 62, the rest of his body reassembled and his blood wiped from the floor, he gave Luiz the thumbs up when he checked to see if he was okay.

"A great show of respect," said the man with the mic. "Tell you what, this is not only the best sport, it has some of the classiest competitors."

The Brazilian, who, interestingly, sported an ad on his shorts for a website that sells condoms, won by a TKO, which left us a bit puzzled because there was nothing technical at all about the knock-out.

If you'd asked Sokoudjou his name at that point, if he'd been able to reply, he'd probably have said, "Britney Spears."

"Our fight replay brought to you by Bud Light - the difference is drinkability," said our commentator as he insisted on showing us a slow-motion replay of the moment Sokoudjou didn't say, "Hit me baby one more time," but was hit anyway.

Next up was the heavyweight bout between the American Shane Carwin and Neil Wain, "fighting out of Doncaster, England", as our announcer, Bruce Buffer, told us. Bruce is kind of like the boxing "Let's Get Ready To Rumble" fella, although "Let's Get Ready To Pummel" might be more appropriate for UFC.

Now, when Bruce said "heavyweight", he was being quite literal about the whole thing. Neil, and if he's reading this we mean no offence, sported a tummy that was as large as the cheer that greeted the lady in the bikini who entered the octagon to tell us round one was about to start.

We knew that anyway, but it was good of her to remind us.

As we feared, Neil barely lasted a couple of minutes after receiving an early knee to the most delicate of regions, one that appeared to leave him half the man he once was.

After that Shane pretty much just sat on Neil's tummy and threw repeated punches at his head. The referee finally stepped in when he began to drown in Neil's blood. Lovely.

That, though, was only the warm-up. The highlight of the evening was the, eh, meeting of Keith "The Dean of Mean" Jardine and a fella by the name of Brandon Vera. His nickname wasn't, alas, Duckworth.

Keith, we were told, used to be a debt collector before becoming an ultimate fighter and, certainly, if he arrived at your front door looking for loot you'd write him a blank cheque.

Troublingly, though, he squeezed his nipples as he was introduced, which we couldn't understand at all. It's not something you see, say, Pádraig Harrington do before he tees off.

"It's supposed to give you good luck to tweak your nipples," explained the commentator. "Think about that before you play the lottery."

"Sure will," said his pal.

Try it when you ask for your quick pick down the newsagents, then hire yourself a good solicitor.

Anyway, before Bruce introduced the lads he was obliged to tell us about the bout's sponsors, one of them "the world leader in physique, performance and energy supplements" (we're saying nothing), the other a "great-tasting sugar-free premium energy drink".

"Boo," said the Birmingham crowd.

They were booing again soon after, following The Dean of Mean's split-decision victory, despite his movement being "herky jerky" after Brandon put his knee out the back of his leg.

He was saddened, he told the interviewer Joe Rogan, that the crowd had booed him.

"That's what you get when people start drinking," said Joe.

"BOOOOOooooo," said the crowd again, between slugs.

Crazy stuff. With luck it won't be coming here any time . . .

"UFC 93! Dublin, Ireland! Tickets are on sale now," said the commentator.

Good grief, prescriptions at the ready.