Much is made of young boxers punching their way out of poverty.

A crush of gorgeous society blondes, with slick-haired, dinner-jacketed boyfriends, have turned their backs on half-eaten creme brulee and half-drunk £300 wine, and are standing on their chairs, screaming.

The air over the boxing ring in the centre of the room is a haze of sweat vaporised by the heat of a dozen spotlights. This is the main event, the fight everyone has been waiting for.

The scene is a world away from working-class lads punching their way out of poverty.

Princes William and Harry are in the audience - one of the promoters is a friend of William's from Eton - and the two men about to throw punches at each other have more wealth and status than most aspiring boxers could ever dream of.

White collar boxing started in Wall Street about 10 years ago and has since taken off in London's Square Mile. But why do they do it? These contenders already make a healthy living in their day jobs, so why would a ship broker and a chartered surveyor choose to punch each others' lights out?

Old score
The near-keening pitch of the crowd is a clue - there is the sheer thrill of fighting in front of an audience.

But for one of tonight's fighters, 6ft 4in, 15st 7lb, Ollie "The Berkeley Bomber" Slack, this fight is also to settle a decade-old score.

A week before the fight, at his training gym, Slack recount his journey back to the boxing ring.

Fitzroy Lodge Boxing Club in Lambeth is wedged beneath a railway arch clattering with trains overhead. Inside the air is thick with heat, noise and adrenaline. Frank Sinatra blares out over a trainer barking orders at his fighters, the constant crack of skipping ropes on the wooden floor and the abrupt hiss of boxers exhaling with their punches.

In the changing room, Slack is dripping with sweat as he describes how in 1999 he was a Cambridge boxing blue who lost. Now 33, he has not fought since. He shakes his head at the memory of defeat in front of friends and family. It still cuts deep.

"It was like bereavement, I know that's a strong word, but it's very hard to comprehend if you weren't there on the night, what kind of passions were involved," he says.

"There were 1,000 people who had spent £20 on tickets, I had rugby mates, school mates, family, everyone was there for me."

But there is a deeper reason behind Slack's decision to step back in the ring. It's the reason that initially made him want to box, and spurs many fighters on - to see what he is made of.

Can't run
"No one can ever know unless they've done it, what it's like to stand in the ring and the bell goes, and the ref goes: 'Box'," he says. "There is a realisation that there is nowhere else to go and all the training runs, all that technique, you've got to put all that together in a very small window.

"You can't jump out of the ring. You can run away from a street fight, but you can't jump out of the ring."

He is drawn to boxing because he sees it as the ultimate test. When the bell goes a boxer is alone with nothing to defend himself with but his strength and his wits.

Slack - whose nickname comes from the Mayfair home of his employer - is being prepared by his trainer Glenn Charles, 51, an ex-cab driver from Stepney with a salt-and-pepper crew cut and a hoarse East End accent. How does he feel about what some might see as a posh boy slumming it?

"The wonderful thing about boxing is that you are stripped to your bare bones. It's very humbling because everyone who has ever participated in boxing, there is always someone better. That's a great lesson in life."

"I think many people are terrified of life and they question their manhood and they get into the ring to deal with those fears."

Back at the fight, Slack is about to do just that. He stands in front of his heavyweight opponent, 6' 2", 15st 7lb, James Mathias.

The cocktail dresses and un-buttoned flat-front shirts are crushed three-deep against the ropes. The two big men stare at each other and then the bell goes. They size each other up, locking stares and throwing jabs. Neither seriously makes it through the other's guard.

But in the second the pace quickens, the blows start spraying sweat from their faces. Then comes the final round. Back in his corner Charles holds Slack's head between his hands and looks him in the face. Ollie nods.

The two fighters launch themselves at each other, throwing hooks and crosses. They clinch and break. Slack charges after Mathias, spit dripping from his gum shield.

Then they clinch again and Mathias shoves his opponent on to the canvas. He springs back to his feet, shaking his head, daring the referee to call it a knock down.

Suddenly it's the final bell. Mathias struts across the ring, certain he's won it.

"Ladies and gentlemen," shouts the compare. "We have a decision, it's unanimous. The winner of the heavy weight contest, in the blue corner is... Ollie 'The Berkeley Bomber' Slack!"

Charles looks over his shoulder and says, dead pan: "It went alright, didn't it?"

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(BBC)

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