If Bob had the energy left he might try and scramble on top of the other man to at least attempt to pin him down, even temporarily, so he's got a chance of not getting his arse kicked more. But he doesn't, the foot of the other leg - the one he's not holding - swings round and connects with the side of his head, and suddenly he's mostly done.

Jaw unclamping and body flopping back on to the hard floor, he shakes his head, dizzy and eyes unfocused as he holds a hand up.

"Out. 'm out," he concedes, vision swimming and nausea amping up until he's mostly just trying to concentrate on not throwing up.