Celebrity boxing is a satire, but the punchline is an unexpected one

The fighters circle each other uncertainly, a little skittishly, pawing at fresh air, loosening their limbs, feeling the spring and thud of the canvas under their boots. It takes them around 15 seconds to get bored of that and start swinging at each other.

KSI flings a straight right that looks uncannily like a man falling into a bus. FaZe Temperrr, a little off-balance, responds with a check-hook that brings to mind a guy trying to pick up a cat in one arm. Approximately half a minute in they start trading, although again this description seems somehow inadequate. What really happens is that KSI runs at Temperrr wildly flailing his arms, and so Temperrr also starts wildly flailing his arms – you know, the way any of us would in a similar situation – before finally entangling themselves around each other like a pair of discarded Christmas trees on a Sidcup pavement.

After a while KSI begins to find his range, to time his rushes a little better, to stay clear of Temperrr’s long levers and use his superior speed in lightning bursts. With just under a minute remaining of the first round he moves in and unleashes a solid right-left combination that bursts through Temperrr’s entirely theoretical defences and catches him flush on the face. As Temperrr’s legs buckle beneath him, around 12,000 fans at Wembley Arena whoop and holler and rise to their feet as if this is all an actual thing.

And, you know, maybe it is. Perhaps the most arresting aspect of influencer boxing – a relatively recent phenomenon in which social media stars slap each other around for a couple of minutes to frankly astonishing audience numbers – is how keen it is to cloak itself in the togs of “proper sport”. There are actual commentators saying actual