There is nothing to admire about Mitchell Pearce's behaviour, but it is worth considering the bigger picture and looking at those benefiting from his demise and those moving fast to make sure they're not damaged by it, writes Marius Benson.

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury in the court of public opinion, I appear for my client, Mitchell Pearce.

My client is an oaf, he is obnoxious, his behaviour on Australian Day was disgusting, offensive and in part, unhygienic.

He deserves censure, but not the hypocritical, confected, sanctimonious and hysterical response that it has generated.

One TV reporter, when breaking the story during a Thursday evening bulletin, was so overcome he was literally lost for words - he had to invent one to convey the enormity of the offence. Pearce had behaved, he told aghast viewers, "abominaciously."

That reporter, and endless others, then went on to say that Pearce had performed 'a lewd act on a dog'.

Great word - "lewd" - with those echoes of crude and nude.

Look at the video and what do you in fact see? Pearce kisses a woman, that's seen as unwanted in all interpretations and should be condemned. The clearly drunk and shirtless footballer then weaves about a bit, talks gibberish. He sits on the couch and picks up the white lap dog - here is the "lewd" simulation. But the little woofer seems untroubled and he is quickly taken away by his owner, who orders Pearce out: "Get out ... out ... last straw ... you peed on my couch ... out!"

"Out" needs to be repeated, but Pearce goes, no protest, no violence, no threats.

So they go - drunken, shambolic, semi-clad, incoherent oafs, (well certainly Pearce is). But no more than that.

That is very bad behaviour for which any half-decent person would have apologised for in the morning. Bad behaviour between drunken adults is something that happens from time to time. But it's likely to end Pearce's career - and why?

Because somebody filmed it and somebody passed it on to Channel Nine (reportedly for $20,000, with another $40,000 paid by The Daily Telegraph). Nine and all other reports made a huge story of it, dripping with sanctimonious disapproval. For the networks and the papers it's a great story - it sells, people love it, they watch, they read. In an age of public moralising we have a new offender to condemn.

Leading the grave tut-tutting was the NRL, the National Rugby League. There it is, the NRL, floating comfortably on a sponsorship ocean made up largely of grog, betting, snake oil medicine and junk food - and desperate to not harm its "product." Is there any awkwardness in the NRL demanding sobriety from the players when it is so heavily dependent on booze itself?

Sport remains the one great area where the liquor industry can sell its product to the young because sport is exempt from the restrictions which keep children's viewing times free of their ads. Just a small exemption there.

And the NRL, in explaining the severe view it takes, pointed to the position of players as role models to the young. An American basketballer, Charles Barkley, famously dismissed that argument, saying "I'm not paid to be a role model ... I'm paid to wreak havoc on the basketball court. Parents should be role models."

And on the role model argument - conventionally, the most powerful role model for a boy is his father. Mitchell Pearce is the son on a famous footballing father, Wayne Pearce. Wayne was a lantern jawed model of decorum to the public, a 'Dudley Do-Right' on and off the field and - cop this - a teetotaller! Go figure.

The reaction to the Pearce tape and the glee with which it was seized on and disapproved of, also reflects a contemporary enthusiasm for public moralising and grandstanding. Public figures now routinely pin on different coloured ribbons to show their support for the noblest of causes, every celebrity has their personal charity, and in the depths of winter political and corporate leaders will head for sports grounds and roll out swags on cold benches for a night, to show their concern for the homeless. Literally, moral grandstanding.

The Australian of the Year is similarly developing into some sort of latter day moral Miss World contest. Those beauty queens in swim suits always expressed a breathless endorsement of "world peace." Similar unarguable goods are now the stock in trade as contestants vie to demonstrate they are Australian of the year. This year we saw some unseemly tension break out on the moral high ground when Cate McGregor turned on her old boss David Morrison when he got this year's gong ahead of her (she later apologised). But I digress.

The Pearce story also has particular appeal as it fits the convention of the "boy gone bad." If you're not familiar with this tale, convention has it that the next stage for Pearce is salvation, probably via marriage. This story line was in fact demonstrated as the Pearce story broke by David Warner. The one time 'bad boy' of cricket, Warner was collecting the Allan Border medal as Australia's best cricketer - and he put his success and ability to escape his wayward past down to becoming a husband, a father, and the love of his wife.

It's not yet clear if Mitchell Pearce will follow the script into Act Two.

There is nothing to admire about Mitchell Pearce's behaviour, but it is worth looking at the bigger picture and looking at those benefiting from his demise - the media - and those moving fast to make sure they're not damaged by it - the NRL and sponsors. It's a business boys, and Mitchell is now bad for business.

Decades ago a British boxer caught fixing fights pleaded that he was just a tool of larger forces. In one of the sweetest malapropisms in sport he pleaded "I'm just a prawn in their game."

So is Mitchell Pearce. He's just a prawn in the game of corporate sport. An immensely well-paid, over-muscled, greatly skilled prawn. And he is now set to be ground under the studded boot of Football Inc.

Marius Benson can be heard on ABC NewsRadio Breakfast each weekday morning.