PRICELESS

[AN EXTRACT FROM A 22 PAGE FEATURE IN HAYEMAKER BOOKAZINE VOLUME THREE.]

Katie Price doesn’t profess to be the next Muhammad Ali, but it’s clear she can rumble with the best of them. After all, how would the mother-of-three, all of five-feet-four and 100-pounds, survive the cut-throat world of show-business without the ability to fight her corner from time to time? Although a fraction less abrasive and ferocious than her one-time alter-ego Jordan, the glamorous Miss Price remains one of the key social phenomenons of the 21st century, her meteoric rise to prominence owing much to an intense and steely determination in all facets of life, as opposed to any discernible skill in one area.

It is for this reason that Price, humble and self-deprecating, routinely laughs when asked whether she considers herself a role model for young women eager to flex their muscles in showbiz. Beyond the glitz, glamour and make-up lie many scars and demons, the kind lesser women may have succumbed to. Although playing her part in the modelling world and ensuing rat race has acquired fame and wealth, Price wouldn’t wish the same process on anybody else, least of all her own daughter Princess.

“It can be a bullshit industry,” claims Price. “I wouldn’t want my daughter to have anything to do with it when she grows up. I know how horrible it can be, but I have made my bed.”

Brighton-born Price continues trucking on regardless, fists held high, chin tucked down and ready for the next flurry of punches from the opposition. This afternoon in Vauxhall she stands across the ring from David ‘The Hayemaker’ Haye, current WBA world heavyweight champion, and a man regarded as one of the hardest punchers in all of boxing. Price, as is to be expected, shows little sign of fear or trepidation, despite the fact she’s gloved-up in the centre of a boxing ring. She has stood up to and bettered meaner men than Haye in the past, of course.

words: ELLIOT WORSELL
photography: CAMILLE SANSON