In rugby, your face fits if you went to private school. If you’re working class it’s different

England’s Ellis Genge claims there is a painful prejudice at the heart of his sport

‘I’VE got a few things I wanna talk about that might erupt,’ says Ellis Genge, as he finalises plans to meet at his flat in Leicester at 4.30pm on Wednesday.

‘You about?’ he messages at 4.24pm — eager to get something off his chest.

He pours two coffees from his Nespresso machine — ‘Cortado? I’m a posh **** these days’ — reminisces about his recent house-warming party and then settles down on the sofa.

‘All this s*** with Raheem Sterling [the alleged racism against the Manchester City footballer and his comment about the way a newspaper reported two stories about a player buying a house] got me thinking,’ he says. ‘ You’ve got one story for a white 18-year-old and another story for a black boy. It’s no different in rugby, you know.

‘ It’s something I want to speak about because my whole career I’ve felt like I can’t express my opinion. I feel like, in rugby, people aren’ t allowed to be themselves. They’re so false and that stops our sport from growing. It breaks me.

‘When I was 16, 17, 18, I never made any of the age-group teams. I feel that’s because my face didn’t fit. I’m not white middleclass — I’m working class. I don’t want to put it down to race — I don’t think it’s about that — but I’ll put it down to culture. The way people are raised and brought up. There’s that private-school mould in rugby. It’s stopping the game from progressing and it’s painful.

‘I have friends working on scaffolding sites back home who are quicker than Jonny May. That’s where football and those other sports have cracked it. Is rugby really grass-roots? When I was younger, I never felt comfortable sitting in the clubhouse having my chips and sausage because I just felt everyone was looking at me thinking, “Who the f*** is this”?’

Genge makes a point of wearing his gold tooth for the photoshoot in his living room. ‘If I turned up at a rugby event wearing a gold tooth and a chain I’d be judged straight away,’ he says. ‘Why should I be judged? That’s what people wear where I’m from. I like it. It’s like Mike Tyson. He’s my idol. No one f***s with Mike. Because of the way I look, act, where I’m from, I get looked at differently to someone white and privately educated.

‘If Raheem Sterling wants to get a gun tattooed on his leg, let him get a gun tattooed on his leg. We do a lot for Lesbian, Bisexual, Gay, and Transgender [LGBT] and the gay stuff—I’ ve got gay family members and I’m all for it — but what about attitudes towards people from working-class backgrounds? More people need to speak up. If we’re building from the bottom up, then something needs to be done.’

Genge, 23, is engaging and quick- witted. He impersonates Chabuddy G, the Indian comedian, when he talks about his council estate friends in Bristol. ‘You want a smoke machine? Thirty- five pound and I’ll chuck in some fragrant smells — I know loads of those guys!’ he quips.

Conversation moves towards his family life and troubled teenage years in Know le West. He recently looked into his family tree and discovered that his adopted grandfather has native American and black Caribbean roots .‘ My grandad was a war baby,’ he says. ‘I’m one-eighth red Indian.’

In the past, Genge has revealed that he left Bristol for Leicester to escape bad influences. He was arrested several times as a teenager but there has always been an element of the unknown. His uncle is also in prison.

‘Don’t beat around the bush,’ he says. ‘If you wanna talk about it, we’ll talk about it. I was a baby then. I got arrested, a few of my mates got arrested. Three GBH and a few things I won’t ever open the doors on. I want to make it clear that I never got charged for any of that. They were just fights and scuffles t hat never should’ve happened. I wasn’t a thug who just went around beating people up but I spoke with my hands rather than my mouth. My uncle’s away for murder. He has been away for a long time. My grandad was in the nick. It’s not alien to me.

‘Some people find it weird but it’s always been part of my world. Some people in the sports world find it hard to understand, so that’s why I kept it under wraps for so long. I’m not a gangster, that’s not me and not the picture I ever wanted to paint.’

Nowadays, Genge speaks with his words rather than his fists. He lives a quieter life in Leicester. He eats out almost daily with his younger, single team-mates. His fridge is stocked with just beer, cheese and avocado and he makes regular trips home to his family. Recently there has been speculation that he will return to Bristol but he intends to see out at least the final year of his contract at Welford Road.

‘I don’t mind it up here,’ he says. ‘I’m not so keen on Leicester as a city but the rugby is class. When it comes good, it’s going to be like a rocket. It’s a daunting process coming up and down the M5. I’ve got a new-born niece and a few bits and bobs going on there but that’s the sacrifice you make. Geographically I’m not happy but we’ll see. I’ll be here next season.

‘ I came here on an academy contract for peanuts. Now I’ve got enough for the odd Gucci cap but there’s f**k-all money in rugby. I’m 23, I’ve got zero cartilage, my shoulder has been ripped off the bone and I’m renting out this flat.

‘The guy who lived here before me, Dom Ryan, retired at 28 because his brain was fried [ he retired because of concussion] and he had nothing to fall back on. Who knows what I’ll do? These Man City kids are 18 and buying £3 million houses.’

A pair of crutches are still propped up against one of the kitchen units. Genge recently finished a five-month rehabilitation from surgery, which has left him with a permanent loss of feeling in his right knee. He missed out on England’s autumn campaign, when he could have been the starting loose-head in the absence of Mako Vunipola and Joe Marler.

‘I damaged the cartilage behind the kneecap,’ he says. ‘They basically cut the nerve so I can’t feel the front of my knee now. Instead of removing the cartilage, they put an incision and stitched it back on with a metal rod.

‘When I came around from the op I thought, “F**k… the anaesthetic’s lasting ages”. Three days gone and I can’t feel my kneecap. I phoned the surgeon and he said, “That’s dusted. Gone”. It hurts walking up stairs but so does compressing your spine for 80 minutes.

‘ I took a few painkillers and thought, “This isn’t enough” but I stopped as they’re a drug. I was quite freaked out about it but I’m used to it now. How many times do you want to feel your knee, anyway? I’ll touch my left leg instead!’

And his England frustrations? ‘It is what it is,’ he says. ‘Everyone was saying, “Marler has retired, Mako’s injured... You could’ve been playing.” Well, if my aunty had b******s she’d be my uncle. Ben Moon and Alec Hepburn did a great job. I only have two games under

my belt and hopefully I can find my lungs before the Six Nations.

‘I’ve heard from Eddie Jones a few times. He calls me the gangster — but he uses that name for anyone who’s not from a private school. Eddie knows there’s a lot to focus on with the situation at Leicester. I want to start winning here before I start thinking about anything else.’

Seven games, seven defeats. Leicester are stuck in a rut and Genge’s return could not have come sooner. He marked his European comeback against Racing 92 last week with one of the best carries of the year, rampaging through seven tackles as his side salvaged a bonus point in Paris.

‘A lot of people have asked about that carry,’ he says with a chuckle. ‘My mindset is: “You’re ’avin it”. I won’t sugarcoat it. It’s, “You get down ****. You get that. You f**king go down as well”. One after the other. You just put as many down as you can. Everyone says “spaces not faces” but I just prefer to run at faces. You get an adrenaline rush from knocking someone over, then you want to do someone else.’

Today, Genge will be back at it at Welford Road, where Leicester are in desperate need of a victory to keep alive their Champions Cup campaign. Fingers are being pointed at players, coaches and the board and, on that note, Genge has one final grievance: criticism.

‘ People on Twitter have been doing my f*****g head in,’ he says. ‘Keyboard warriors. We’ve been s***. We know we’ve been s***. We don’t need reminding every minute of every day.’

Reaching for his phone, he says: ‘Look at this tweet: “Interview: See what Ellis had to say about his rampaging run in Paris”. This guy replies: “You lost again”. Really? Did we? He’s there telling me the days of Dean Richards and Martin Johnson have gone, then he starts asking me for free tickets. I know we’ve lost. I’ve got to sit on the plane and think on it for two hours when I’m caffeined out my f*****g eyeballs. It’s doing my head in.

‘It’s going to take time to get back to where we were. The core of the club — Ed Slater, Logovi’i Mulipola, Tom Croft, Marcos Ayerza, Pete Betham — has gone. There have been a few panic signings but no one is intentionally trying to drag the club down.

‘If you think we ain’t trying, come to Oval Park on a Tuesday, pick up a tackle pad, say all this stuff and you’ll get spat out like a tumble dryer. If you wanna go and watch Wasps instead, go and watch Wasps. If you want to support us, support us and we’ll do our best to repay you. Rant over. I guess life’s all right if that’s your biggest worry.’