Before: Hard feelings left over from the Huckabees shoot - Watts feeling slighted and disrespected by Twain's reported mega-diva act during the shoot.

"I stepped-to Shania early in shooting and challenged her," recalls Naomi in prefight, "and she punked. She wanted no part of it. Then she's all - 'I was a multi-time FCBA champ', 'I was pound for pound this and that' - everyone was sick of her preening, but she'd never back it up. Now that I have her, I'm going to remind her of why she retired in the first place: that fine-china chin of hers! Can't wait!"

Twain irritated by rumours that she was anything other than professional on set of Huckabees. "I didn't even have a trailer," Shania protests. "Look - Naomi did challenge me, knowing full well I hadn't fought in three years, and I had to say no. The point is: I beat up Dani Fishel; I WAS pound for pound one of the best boxers in the sport when I hung 'em up and I WAS an elite fighter - I didn't want to let Naomi poach all that with an opportunistic challenge. Now that I've gotten myself into fighting trim, we'll see how brave she is."

Watts in white Huckabees bikini, Shania in leopard print push up, dark chocolate bikini bottoms, messy ponytail. Small gloves, both vixens.

During R1: Twain sharp early - there's the staccatto footwork, the in-out darting, the chipping, chiselling jab off the front foot and quick right/lefts in combination. Watts parrying, hanging back, ducking and timing Twain coming with swiping counter-hooks across the waist. Wide ranging action - Watts hopping along the perimeter - Shania feinting, attacking, retreating. Brisk two-way exchange punctuates the round: fine spanking mitts-on-meat at the bell leaves both women humming with adrenaline.

R2: Watts jabbing into Shania's body with a very firm stick, then launching over the top right hands. Twain stepping away from it, circling to her right, jitterbugging around Naomi in a classy first minute. Second minute, Watts plants that jab in Twain's pale midriff, ducks under Shania's answering hook and NAILS the C&W superstar a jarring right over Twain's left shoulder. Shania stomping in fence post holes, face distraught as she staggers away from Naomi. Watts from almost behind and to the left of Twain hooks Shannie's eye, punches her a right hand in the back of the head, chasing brunette at the stagger to ropes. Flurry to the breadbasket has Shan's butt back, lips parted in hurt - Watt's bodies her upright all big-girl and really starts to party. Small glove takes a firm grip of Shania's waistband and Naomi's going to town short, clouting right hands on the mouth! Twain destitute, staring, slack - she's drifting to her right, head tossing to starboard, hands dangling at her sides - Naomi stepping with her, pulling her-to, cracking her nasty compact rights. Watts putting her back into these babies, keeping that right elbow in, just leaning her weight into Shania's suspect chin. Twain battered the length of the apron to a waiting corner - she's helpless, torso swaying on the spot, head lolling as her face rolls back into position again and again and again. Watt's eyes bright as a ferret's - she's loving the short drifting action, knows she has her girl out on her feet and she's GORGING herself on chin. Watts' legs strong, sturdy, that right foot pushing off the big toe as she rhythmically pounds away, that left hand tugging Twain into position, keeping her stabilized. Ref FINALLY moves in to call halt to the slaughter - has to fumble and struggle with Naomi who won't immediately let lose of her victim. KO2 in brutal, even heinous fashion, Naomi Watts.

After: Shania rusty, vulnerable after a very long layoff - Watts goes right after her foe to get Twain out of there shabby. Connelly in a frilly cream blouse tucked into satiny green slacks, hoop earings and sleek low ponytail, in there clapping, congratulating a pumped up Naomi - both girls stride on over to indulge themselves as poor Shania is brought around on her stool. Watts stacking a blubbering Shania and mounting her in the corner - wriggling little blonde with the left hand tight in Twain's damp locks, right hand thrusting and punching at the air in celebration - poor Twain grimacing, her face pushed aside by Naomi's triumphant little hip. Connelly clapping, grinning, often reaching up to pat at Naomi's damp white back while strutting around - boos cascading down as a well respected FCBA name is treated like prelim dirt by out-of-control TU vixens.