Then there was Wayne’s penchant for younger women, whom he would chat up while holding court in his bars — a magnet for minor celebrities, off-duty footballers, and the sort of boozy Brits who fawn over such types.
Three of his much younger girlfriends became his wives, among them Zoe Davey — their friendship began when he was 29 and she was a 15-year-old Essex schoolgirl.
‘This isn’t a Bill Wyman-Mandy Smith situation,’ he insisted when the tabloids asked him about their association, referring to the Rolling Stone’s infamous relationship with a 14-year-old. ‘Zoe is a virgin and she’ll stay that way until she is at least 16.’
They later married and had a daughter, now 16 herself, but the relationship broke down and Wayne moved on.
Contrast this rum lifestyle with the image of squeaky-clean Gary. Here was that rare beast, a footballer with choirboy manners. He married his childhood sweetheart, lived modestly, helping to raise four sons (the oldest of whom, George, tugged the nation’s heartstrings with his well-publicised struggle against leukaemia).