Why I attacked a fellow journalist

I'm an upstanding and well-rounded member of society. I help old biddies cross the street, hold doors open for fit ladies and selflessly point drunken colleagues in the vague direction of a bus stop when it becomes apparent I've bought them one too many sambucas.

Despite my charitable ways, I do have the occasional mischievous twitch. This reared its head most recently in Las Vegas during the 2009 Consumer Electronics Show -- a place where thousands of journalists, vendors and insufferable wannabes gather to out-geek each as if their lives depended on it. It sounds glamorous, but let me tell you -- for every one good gadget, there are 20,000 lame ones, and an equal number of boredom-inducing marketing folks doing their utmost to suck away your very soul.

It was here I attacked a man, who -- ironically -- wasn't a marketing person. When I first saw this fellow, who I later learned to be media junkie Mario Armstrong, he had already collapsed out of sheer disinterest with the show. The first person on the scene, instead of helping -- perhaps by handing Mario some of the cool stuff we saw -- did his utmost to prolong the monotony, discharging ever more tedium like some kind of human snooze grenade. I can only assume he was in PR.

I had to act quickly. I kissed Natali Del Conte goodbye, handed my beer to CNET.de's Daniel Schraeder, and sprinted towards the unsuspecting Armstrong -- launching myself into the air and belly flopping on his sternum in a protective embrace. Thankfully his film crew kept the cameras rolling and preserved the footage, below, so one day we all can learn something from these proceedings. 

Mario still hasn't thanked me. But inside he was grateful I'd saved him from a barrage of CES dullness -- a fate worse than having to politely excuse yourself from an interminable bore.

He'll thank me when he's out of hospital.