Justin Trudeau can throw a punch. We’ve seen that in the boxing ring.

In Parliament on Wednesday, however, the Prime Minister landed one on his own schnozzola: TKO.

Ironic, since nobody else seems able to lay a hand on him.

Ruth-Ellen Brosseau, meanwhile, can’t absorb even a mild elbow nudge without falling into freak-out. So overwhelmed was the NDP MP by Trudeau’s stomp-by unintentional flying elbow to the chest that she had to flee the House — albeit not before a strategic powwow with party leader Thomas Mulcair. Discombobulated to the extent that Brosseau missed the subsequent vote on a government bill to limit debate on its contentious assisted-suicide bill. Down for the count.

I’m waiting to see how much further the opposition spins this regrettable event into assault. Actually, didn’t have to wait long. The NDP’s Niki Ashton bellied up to that bar yesterday, after earlier reaching for the “assault” word. She described witnessing her colleague’s experience as “deeply traumatizing’’ and, when viewed through a “gender lens,” alarming for female pols who expect a “safe” workplace.

Throw everything into the pot, why not?

Maybe they’ll all retrieve those mothballed white ribbons, wearing their indignation on lapels and bodices. Pity there’s no sexually shaded violation to exploit.

Of course there should be no manhandling — or womanhandling — of MPs in the House of Commons, duh. But Brosseau’s quailing reaction was over-the-top ridiculous, little miss helpless victim, with Mulcair fulminating to her defence: “What kind of a man elbows a woman? You’re pathetic.’’

Oh please. Trudeau may indeed be pathetic — reams of evidence for that, if you’re looking — but not because he applied an inadvertent Gordie Howe on Brosseau. Not like he slapped a protester (dad, Pierre) or throttled a heckler (Jean Chrétien).

The Brosseau episode is difficult to isolate and review, even on slo-mo, like an NFL replay. Teensy jostle, happened in the bat of an eye, minor collateral damage on a sorry day in the House. But I doubt whether there was anybody present more distressed by that incident than Trudeau himself, Mr. Metrosexual Politician, whose self-professed sunny ways have suddenly run into inclement weather. He took contrite refuge in multiple apologies, apparently a believer of sorry quantity.

Mea culpa Number 4, at least, on Thursday: “I apologize to my colleagues, to the House as a whole and to you, Mr. Speaker, for failing to live up to a higher standard of behaviour of myself.

Adding: “No amount of escalation or mood in this House justifies my behaviour last night. I made a mistake; I regret it. I am looking to make amends.”

Off to the sensitivity engineers with you, Justin. More likely, an all-party committee investigation, kneejerk institutional response.

Far more disturbing was the preliminary bout — Trudeau marching down the aisle, like a high school monitor, to break up a huddle that was delaying the bill vote. That zero-to-60 annoyance spoke volumes about the prime minister’s drama-queen nature and a keen sense of office licence.

Trudeau grabbed Opposition whip Gordon Brown, shoving the man towards his seat. And, according to those who claimed to overhear it, ordering a clutch of mostly NDP lollygaggers to “get the f--- out of the way.’’

Runs in the family, apparently, F-bombing in Parliament.

So Justin tugged at his nice-hair forelock for that blurp too.

“I apologize for crossing the floor in an attempt to have the member … take his seat. That intervention is not appropriate. It is not my role and it should not have happened.’’

What Trudeau revealed was a low-threshold impatience and high-threshold entitlement, just further evidence of profound vanity and immaturity.

I am no Justin fan-girl, OK? The very inflection of his voice is like fingernails on chalkboard. He and his government are guilty of severe miscalculations on crucial government decisions, from the withdrawal of fighter jets in the coalition campaign against ISIS to the cock-up on Syrian refugees that has left the private humanitarian sector with no families to settle, despite having prepared for them.

Yet even now, with what sounds on the surface like a fulsome apology for his stiff-arming of Brown, Trudeau couches his repentance inside a vague, implied frustration with gridlock partisanship on the Hill. As if, with a four-year majority to enjoy and to-drool-over public favourability ratings, he has a darn thing to worry about between selfies.

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The public, not so childish, will move on quickly from this mini scandal, I suspect. Nobody out here looks to the House for role models to emulate. The opposition will continue to milk it like a dairy cow, though, conflating the personal with the political.

Bully-boy Justin — heaven-sent for the umbrage jimjams.

Rosie DiManno usually appears Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday.

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