Knowing your place

She may not actually write the novels that go out under her name but Katie Price (aka ‘glamour’ model Jordan) has written an editorial in today’s Times. She was refused entry to the Cartier International Polo event last weekend. She now takes a stand as an unlikely class-warrior.

She may be famous, she may be well off and she may be a genuine all things horse-y enthusiast but as far as the snobby establishment who run these things are concerned she is just another chav who doesn’t know her place.

Earlier this week I was at ‘Glorious Goodwood’ on a corporate jolly. As someone with no interest in horse racing I had a surprisingly good time – much as I would have at any other free all day piss up in the sunshine. And the spectacle of the day and a bit of excitement with a small bet on each race did undeniably add to the occasion. Sweltering in a suit and tie didn't.

Fundamentally though the whole thing struck me as a complete load of old toss. A race course is a perfect microcosm of our class ridden society.

There’s the members’ enclosure for the genuine ‘old money’. There’s the corporate enclosures for the aspirational types. There’s the stands for the masses. And then there’s the poor sods who are camped up on the hill outside the course altogether hoping to catch a glimpse of the races. Or even sadder, a deferential glimpse of the toffs in their best regalia.

And of course there's a few cheeky interlopers like me who don't really belong with any of them .