Ben, please spare us the awful vuvuzelas

Whittaker delivers the final left hook. Picture: Lawrence Lustig/Boxxer

IN the modern game’s circus of showboating and fake feuds, I will have to swallow the antics of supremely skilled Ben Whittaker.

But, please, do I have to take the infernal racket produced by the vuvuzelas blown by the Olympic silver medallist’s large entourage?

The kazoo-like instruments, that make a noise similar to a swarm of angry mosquitos, were bad enough when polluting the 2010 South African World Cup.

Having them blasted close to this 65-year-old writer’s ear in Resorts World Arena on Saturday night was torment. Pure torment.

Please, Ben, make them stop.

Whittaker, from West Brom, appears hell-bent on becoming boxing Marmite: you either love his antics during fights or you hate them. He is walkng the Prince Naseem route.

I’d prefer the 25-year-old’s boxing ability to do the talking. And Whittaker is blessed with unbelievable skills.

I’m old school. I found his repertoire on the Boxxer bill against a fighter, in Scotland’s Jordan Grant, who hadn’t a prayer of victory, disrespectful. It was too much.

Taking part in his third pro outing, Whittaker shimmied, grinned at the crowd and, at one point, even hopped towards his outclassed opponent.

Light-heavy Grant (12st 7lbs) was despatched by a left hook in the third of a scheduled six rounder. The shot sent him sprawling, he clambered to his feet at four, but was rightly rescued at 13 seconds of the session.

I was surprised Jordan, who lost for the fourth time in 10 contests, was sent out for the fateful round. His right eye was swollen shut and by the end an ugly purple welt had developed under the optic. After six minutes of action, it was apparent Jordan was in way too deep.

Whittaker (12st 6lbs 5oz), who entered the ring in faux leopard skin attire, had things all his own way.

With Grant in full retreat, he gyrated his hips theatrically in the first, then gazed into the packed crowd, smiling and nodding.

After landing a heavy right near the close of the session, Ben walked away in a celebratory show of self admiration.

Whittaker targeted the body in the second and by its conclusion, Hamilton’s Grant was already looking badly banged up and beaten.

The end – early in the third – was no surprise.

Boxing has changed: there are those who want the kind of schtick delivered by Whittaker. As someone who started following the sport in the 1960s, I was left pondering: What the hell would Henry Cooper think of all that?