Bobby George opens the doors of his Essex mansion as the darts legend reflects on injury, excess and the wild life that helped change the sport forever

Three hours into a long, laughter-filled chat, Bobby George suddenly flips the script.

Behind the bar of his sprawling Essex home, he asks whether we fancy a drink. A normal one… or something else entirely.

What follows is peak Bobby. A small jar appears, filled with vodka, and inside it is something unmistakably human.

One of his own toes. Not a novelty. Not a prop.

A genuine souvenir from a body that’s been through more wear and tear than most professional athletes could imagine.

George lost four toes due to a painful deformity that left them overlapping.

He watched the procedure himself. Calmly. Curiously.

Like a man inspecting a mechanical repair rather than surgery.

“That’s just how I am,” he shrugs. And you believe him.

A House Built by Hand, Not Checkbook

This isn’t happening in some celebrity mansion bought off-plan.

George built this place himself. All 18 bedrooms of it.

He dug out the surrounding fishing lakes too, driving his own JCB across the 12-acre plot.

The place is called George House, and it fits him perfectly—bold, eccentric, impossible to ignore.

He rolls his own cigarettes, wears his gold unapologetically, and treats guests like old friends.

Somewhere between the bar and the lakes, he casually shows off a titanium screw that once lived in his spine.

Knees replaced. Hips replaced. Shoulder worn out.

Back held together by metal. No spleen. Three toes per foot.

And yet, the man is glowing.

Still Standing, Still Smiling at 80

Bobby George turned 80 just before our visit, and the title of his new book sums it up neatly: Still Here.

He lives here with his wife Marie, who he absolutely adores.

His body may be battered, but his spirit hasn’t dimmed for a second. If anything, it’s louder.

Happy, reflective, sharp as ever—George doesn’t dwell on what he’s lost.

He focuses on what he’s lived. And what a life it’s been.

How Darts Became a Show

It’s no exaggeration to say modern darts wouldn’t look the way it does without Bobby George.

Before him, players were called to the stage in silence. No music. No drama. No buzz.

George thought that was rubbish.

He pushed for walk-on music and chose flair over forgettable. Glittering outfits.

Flared trousers. His initials sparkling on his collar. And, of course, the cape and candelabra.

His first walk-on song? Leader of the Gang.

“I could feel it straight away,” he says. “The crowd knew the words.

I thought, ‘I’ve done something here.’”

Some players complained it wasn’t serious enough.

“Well,” George grins, “it is a circus. And that’s the point.”

Growing Up With Nothing—and Learning Everything

George’s confidence didn’t come from comfort. His mum died when he was three.

His dad later went blind. They had no money at all.

But his dad taught him how to fix things. How to work with his hands.

By the time Bobby was six, he was learning mechanical jobs most adults wouldn’t attempt.

“I’m not book smart,” he says. “But give me tools and I’ll show you something.”

That skill built his house. It built his career. It built his resilience.

The Dogs, the Land, and No Neighbours in Sight

George has four dogs, each with a role. Three small ones who cause mischief.

One enormous Romanian Shepherd trained to protect livestock from wolves and bears.

The big one patrols the land all night. Doesn’t chase wildlife. Just watches.

And neighbours?

He laughs. “That’s why I don’t have any.”

He prefers animals to people anyway.

Teaching Johnny Depp How to Swear Properly

Among George’s many unexpected chapters is a brief spell as a dialect coach.

While working on the film London Fields, Johnny Depp wanted help sounding like a real Cockney. George was the man for the job.

They bonded instantly. George tweaked lines. Added rhythm. Added bite.

“That’s better,” Depp told him. And that was that.

Finding Darts by Accident

Before darts, George worked with flowers.

Then on the London Underground, helping dig the Victoria Line.

One accident nearly cost him a finger—and his future.

He discovered darts at 30, almost by chance, while stuck indoors during a fishing trip in Ireland.

He picked up the arrows and couldn’t miss.

Within four years, he’d won the News of the World Championship.

Perfection, Pain, and a Broken Back

George became obsessed with perfection.

He can still tell you exactly how many ways there are to finish a nine-darter.

He came agonisingly close himself—twice.

His career peak came with pain. In the 1994 World Championship, he broke his back simply by celebrating on the Lakeside stage.

He didn’t tell anyone.

He played on in a homemade steel corset, sweating so much that his shoes filled with it.

He reached the final—and couldn’t finish doubles because of the pain.

He lost 6–0.

And still, he doesn’t regret a second of it.

From Glory to Graft

Second place paid £16,000 back then. George spent it fixing his back.

Today, first-round losers earn nearly that just for showing up. The winner takes £1 million.

George isn’t bitter. He’s proud. Proud that the sport grew into something bigger than he ever imagined.

Advice for the New King

Luke Littler is the new star. George has a message for him.

“Don’t grow up too fast. Stay in your bubble. Focus on the darts.”

He knows how quickly the game can turn.

“You can be a hero one night and forgotten the next.”

Why He’s Still Here

When Bobby George turned 80, the messages flooded in. Van Gerwen. Littler. World champions. Crowd favourites.

All calling him what he is: a legend.

And when he says he’s “still here,” it’s not defiance. It’s gratitude.

Broken body. Full heart. Life lived loudly.

Still standing. Still smiling. Still Bobby George.

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