1. My Thumb
Strong, dominant, upright. It is the captain of my hand. And if my thumb was to be consistently found wanting at international level, park in disabled spaces, openly urinate into pint glasses in the middle of pubs, commit adultery I would still defend it to the hilt.
2. My Index Finger
Tall, thin and seemingly ungainly. But it has a good touch for a big man, and is surprisingly agile; as I discovered to my surprise when checking my prostate.
3. My Middle Finger
If you ask this fricking finger, the flipping Respect campaign is a load of flipping twaddle. In my day, you could say what the heckdoodle you bally well liked and didn’t have to take any poop from the blighters. And that’s ruddy swearing, Joe Kinnear
4. My Ring Finger
A constant reminder of my infidelity, after I walked out on my wife and two sons. One of the boys was called Teddy, who I named after my teammate Teddy Sheringham. He was a great friend to me and Sarah in those days. Teddy was always round at my place, helping Sarah prepare for roles in plays, or upstairs with her fixing our cable- I thought, “you’ve got a job on there Teddy, we’ve got SKY!”. One time I found him hiding, looking shocked in my wardrobe- typical prankster, him! In fact, it’s a funny story but my son Teddy does look an awful lot like Teddy. Uncanny in fact.
Pinkie? Pink is for girls. When I was at Marseille, I spent a lot of time around the docks. Men were men there. Sometimes the women were men. And sometimes the men made you feel like a woman. So…soft.