The commentary had shrunk from being a description of a bout to a simple reiteration: He's going

The commentary had shrunk from being a description of a bout, to a simple reiteration: "He's going to win, he's going to win, Oh look a jab, he's going to win."By the 11th, they werevirtually breaking out thechampagne "I thinkLennox has got this wrapped up," said Eubank. "It's a wonderful performance." Round 12, the last round, and "Chris Eubank is on his feet, so are hundreds of British fans. There are Union jacks flying everywhere."It was surprising, on the whole, to hear that Evander was still in the ring, or indeed the building, "I'm not worried about Holyfield now," said Chris "He's a spent force."The match ended. All agreed it was a privilege to have been at such a notable victory.

"Nobody's ever done it, all century," said Rosenthal in amazement, though nothing had actually been done yet "Lewis," said Bruno in London, "'E made it all look so easy. 'E did a wickid job." "There's only one decision possible here," said Eubank.Then the referee announced the decision It was a draw Three judges, three different marks The British judge, Larry O'Connell, made it 115- 115. "This is the most disgraceful thing," said Frank Bruno, sounding suddenly like a circuit judge "It's daylight robbery They should be ashamed of themselves."Eubank went further "This is a travesty against justice. Larry O'Connell scored a draw and his paymasters are going to have to answer," he fumed. It was surprising they didn't produce an instant conspiracy theory about the perfidious Irish rigging the votes.

Bruno and Eubank went off sounding as if they'd like to bash up somebody. There's nothing worse than a foregone conclusion which isn't.WHEN I confessed last week to my unhealthy passion for the new Fantastic Plastic Elastic chair by Ron Arad, I didn't realise dozens of you would demand to know where to get one. This is not a consumer column, thank you very much, but a display case of cutting-edge transmedial analysis. I am a surfer of the Zeitgeist, ears attuned to the charivari of modern life I am not here to flog furniture.

But if you must know, they cost pounds 125 and come in numerous colours from Artworks, 21-22 Upper St, Islington London N1 (0171-359 4778) And they really are gorgeous.. It's 3pm at Gordon Ramsay's eponymous, marble-tiled, discreetly chi-chi Chelsea restaurant Lunch is just coming to an end Fine china coffee-cups tinkle. The daintiest of little marzipanny things are being popped into expensively lipsticked mouths Jean-Claude, the maitre d', takes my coat. Jean-Claude is quite handsome, in a French, middle-of-the- road, crooner sort of way. Gordon later says: "All the women who come in want to shag him, but he's always too frightened, AREN'T YOU JEAN-CLAUDE!?" Gordon comes out from the kitchen, in his chef's whites Gordon is not dainty Gordon is seriously BIG.