There are some who observe that UFC business much like a Cork hurling fan might have watched Saturday’s game against Dublin: from behind a cushion, the contest a touch too bloody and brutal for delicate tummies. So they might have smiled when BT Sport had the heebie-jeebies on hearing Nate Diaz’s post-brawl remark.

Interviewing person: “Nate, you just shook up the world!”

Diaz: “I’m not surprised, mother[bleep]ers!”

BT then stuck this up on the screen: “We apologise for any offensive language you may have heard.”

Having just broadcast from Las Vegas a series of sustained assaults with intent to cause bodily harm, mother[bleep]ers seemed inoffensive enough. And anyway, considering the cascade of blood flowing down his face, Diaz’s impoliteness perhaps should have been overlooked. Hopefully he’ll use his prize money for reconstructive surgery.

So, he triumphed over Conor McGregor. The commentators informed us that he did so with a “rear-naked choke submission”. Which left the uninitiated mumbling “excuse me?”

Cagey bravery

A disappointing night and morning, then, for our Conor. But while his bravery even entering that cage thingie can’t be disputed, it paled next to the courage Kevin Kilbane displayed on TV last week.

"It's like something you could make when you're 12," said a rude diner on TV3's The Restaurant of Kevin's rhubarb crumble and vanilla custard. The retired footballer, who rarely lost his temper on the field of play, was so aggrieved he looked ready to spring from the kitchen and call the customer a "mother[bleep]er".

Rhubarb is, after all, personal. Kevin revealed that his granny in Cork used to make him rhubarb pie, rhubarb crumble and rhubarb tart. So he knew his rhubarb.

By then, the chefs had insulted the presentation of Kilbane’s warm goat’s cheese with a trio of roasted beetroot. (Louise: “It just looks like it was plonked on.” ). But Kev stuck to his guns and, in many ways, the dish resembled his playing style: not always pretty, but when the ingredients are right, it all goes down the same way.

The work didn’t stop there. Kevin had to pluck the bones from the haddock he was using for his fish cakes. By the time he was done, having conceded his touch was a bit heavy, all that was left on the bench was a sinew.

Take two was better; a diner praised the haddock for tasting “haddocky”, which was good, and his dauphinoise potatoes were a triumph as well (“I practised them last week using the Google”).

Another diner was well pleased with Kevin’s chocolate fondant because it had “a good sense of ooze”. Kevin had been worried about the ooze. “I’m on a knife edge with the fondant,” he admitted. If it was too runny, “you’re open to criticism”. If it was too dry, “you’re open to criticism”. Kevin shrugged. He could never win with Gilesie and Dunphy either.

Kilbane then entered the cage to listen to the judges’ assessment of his grub. A roaring success! Marco Pierre White told him his sea bass was “the greatest plate of food I’ve ever eaten in Ireland”. Kevin beamed like he’d just scored a hat-trick. And beamed some more when he was awarded four stars.

“You should get an extra cap for this,” Chef Gary told him, but Kevin barely had the energy to reply. Ninety minutes patrolling the left wing never seeming so relaxing.

32 and counting

Kilbane was back in more familiar territory come Saturday morning, previewing the weekend’s action on

Football Focus

. The big one, of course, was the north London title- chasing derby. Harry Kane, you’ll know, was -32 when Spurs last topped the top flight, and 32 is roughly how many years Arsene Wenger aged when Francis Coquelin got himself sent off.

“He uses Gabriel almost like a mannequin,” said Glenn Hoddle when Harry curled in Spurs’ second. BT Sport was left feeling a bit of a dummy themselves after Alexis Sanchez equalised when they lost their pictures in the final moments of the game.

If either side had got a winner, the ears of their complaints department would have oozed like the middle of Kevin’s fondant.