So who do you want to win this grubby little affair at Upton Park tonight?
In one corner we have Dereck Chisora, the street hoodlum with all the morals of an unruly alley cat.
Opposing him is David Haye, who showed more aggression gatecrashing that press conference than when it mattered in the ring with Vladimir Klitschko.
A Saturday night scrap in the East end is as much part of the culture as jellied eels and pie and mash. Only we’re paying for the pleasure of watching this one.
From the moment that the camera stand smacked Haye on the head in the free-for-all that followed Chisora’s last fight, this fight has been inevitable.
Frank Warren, for all his shock outrage at the time, must have seen the pound signs flashing before Chisora could shout “&*$£%”.
And like anyone else who tries to maintain that there is still a moral compass in boxing, I have viewed it with a po face.
The British Boxing Board of Control refused to have anything to do with it so those respected pugilist giants from Luxembourg eagerly jumped in. The fight had an official sanction, if not from this country.
Inevitably as the hype grows and the bell approaches, my interest has been pricked.
Try as you might to rise above all the garish headlines and steel-fenced get-togethers, the freak value wins out.
For all the many reasons why these two should not be allowed to share a ring and make a mint from it, you cannot deny the appeal of a tasty domestic duel.
And these two tarnished boxers will offer just that. The loser tonight is finished; the winner has scarcely opened too many doors. They are both spoiled goods in Klitschko eyes, the only ones that matter in the current heavyweight wasteland.
I can’t work out which corner I’ll be backing. I don’t have much time for either man.
But I’ll still stump up the cash to watch every punch, every jostle, every obscenity thrown. Many, many others will do the same.
I don’t know what that says about your average boxing fan.