The grit and glory of British toe wrestling

The Obsessives is a series spotlighting the world’s most competitive underground sports, as well as the grassroots champions and communities that make them.

A hush descends on the pub. All eyes are on two men lowering themselves onto the sticky floor. Face to face, they stretch their right legs out onto a wooden platform between them. The referee approaches with a bottle of baby powder. He dusts their exposed feet – a solemn ritual – then locks them intimately into place by intertwining their toes. The countdown begins. 

“Three…two…one…TOES AWAY!”

Welcome to toe wrestling’s London debut. 

Toe wrestling is exactly what it sounds like: arm wrestling, but with the digits on the end of people’s feet. Competitors interlock toes over a small wooden platform known as ​‘the Toedium’. Each keeps their non-competing leg raised in the air – drop it, and you’re disqualified. Bum leaves the floor? Also out. It’s best of three rounds: right foot, left foot, right again if needed. The aim is to force your opponent’s foot to touch your end of the sideboard.

Conceived in 1974 by four drunk locals in a Derbyshire pub, toe wrestling has since drawn a devoted cast of competitors back to its birthplace of Ashbourne each August for the World Championships. But tonight in London marks a new beginning, the first of what organisers hope will become regional qualifiers. At The Station House pub in south Tottenham, I’m here to find out why the sport is stepping beyond its rural roots – and to meet the characters behind the clenched toes.

Back at the Toedium, the battle reaches its climax. The crowd erupts into chants of ​“BIG TOE JOE! BIG TOE JOE!” Despite the fanfare, this is actually Joe’s first ever match. As the pub landlord, he was dragged into the spotlight by regulars who insisted he was ​“big toe in name, big toe in nature” (whatever that means). His big toe is indeed as thick as two Cumberland sausages. But his opponent, Oscar ​“The Trotter”, is a Muay Thai fighter – and while it’s his first go too, years of combat training seem to be giving him the upper foot.

They both strain with everything they’ve got, legs shaking, trying to wrench the other’s foot across the line. A guttural grunt escapes Big Toe Joe as veins bulge on Oscar The Trotter’s forehead. It all happens fast – one final surge, and Oscar successfully slams Joe’s foot against his side of the board, proving bigger isn’t always better.

Oscar claims the bronze medal in today’s championship. ​“I felt far more competitive about this than I’d usually care to admit,” Oscar tells me, beaming with pride. ​“And to come third place after two legends – maybe I’ve got a new calling!” He walks away with £100. Not bad for a day’s work sitting barefoot in a pub.

Second place goes to toe wrestling icon Alan ​“Nasty” Nash – a 17-time world champion and the living embodiment of the sport’s glorious charm. I’d heard he was retired. ​“Not unconditionally,” he grins, as if real retirement is for the weak.

He’s broken all four toes in a single match, snapped them back into place and carried on to win. He’s had one toe surgically removed and reattached. He’s even suffered a spinal injury while trying to defeat the Australian champion. He slips off his beloved faux-leather Knights Slippers that he wears to every match to show off his feet: both big toenails long gone, but surprisingly elegant, considering the punishment they’ve endured.

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When I joke about the slogan on his T‑shirt – ASK ME ABOUT MY FEET PICS – he explains that he often sends photos of his feet to a chiropractor in Blackpool. ​“For free,” he adds. ​“I just like to keep him entertained.” When it’s time to compete, he whips off the T‑shirt to reveal a tight wrestling singlet underneath. 

But behind the cheeky bravado lies a core of steel. In the run-up to the World Championships, his gym sessions consist of 100 leg presses at 100kg, followed by 100 toe presses at the same weight. 

That strength carries into other parts of his life, too. Three years ago while at his day job as an engineer, Alan got a call from the doctor. It was a cancer scare. His boss asked if he wanted to go home. ​“Why?” Alan shot back. ​“Will that cure it?” He stayed at his desk and carried on. His wife has also battled cancer in recent years, which Alan shares with a quiet tenderness. Through it all, toe wrestling has given him something to focus on and look forward to. He’s 66 this year – and still a force to be reckoned with.

If Alan ​“Nasty” Nash is the legend, the future is Ben ​“Toe-Tal Destruction” Woodroffe, who takes first place tonight. A three-time world champion, Ben is the man who finally dethroned Alan. He’s quickly become the benchmark to beat. ​“I didn’t drop a single point at last year’s championship,” he proclaims. ​“I don’t stall. I get in, get it done.”

His dominance has made him a marked man. ​“I’ve had people message me online, come up to me in the street – someone’s even challenged me at an airport,” he laughs.

Challenge him at your peril – he’s a sharp strategist with the brains to back up the brawn. To win at toe wrestling, ​“you need the strength of an arm wrestler, the tactics of a snooker player, and the passion of a rugby player,” he believes, but above all, ​“it’s 90% mind games.” That mantra is so central to his philosophy, it’s printed on his T‑shirt, just beneath his nickname: TOE-TAL DESTRUCTION.

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Tonight, Ben isn’t just here to win. ​“London’s a hunt,” he says, scanning the hopefuls. ​“I’m Premier League. Most of the others are basically League Two. I want to find someone who can match me.”

And toe wrestling isn’t just a boys’ game. The women’s competition is every bit as intense – sometimes tougher. The undisputed queen of the women’s category is Lisa ​“Twinkle Toes” Shenton, a seven-time world champion who, due to injury, couldn’t make it down to London this time. Her nickname comes from the diamantés she adds to her big toes before every match – her signature trademark.

Lisa stumbled across the sport by accident. ​“Whatever,” she remembers thinking. ​“As if toe wrestling is a real thing.” But one night at the pub, with the beers flowing, she jumped in and made it to the final. 

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A farmer by day, she now trains with ankle weights and stretches her toes using resistance bands. After a big fight, the recovery can be brutal. ​“You don’t realise how much of your body you’re using,” she explains. ​“Afterwards, you feel like you’ve been hit by a bus.”

Last year, she found herself in a particularly gruelling match. ​“It went on for ages,” she says. I guess five minutes? Ten? Turns out it lasted 45. Her opponent’s feet were a size 9 to Lisa’s size 4, making it nearly impossible to stay locked in. In the end, they had to gaffer tape their toes together just to finish the battle.

Toe wrestling has even become part of her love story. Lisa’s partner, Ruth, is a competitor too. They’ve yet to officially face off, but Lisa’s already thinking about it. ​“We’re both really competitive,” she says. ​“She’ll be going for it, and so will I.”

Her most memorable win came in 2019, when she first took the world title. ​“My mum was so proud,” Lisa says. ​“She couldn’t wait to show everyone the article in the local paper and say, ​‘My daughter’s a world champion!’” Since that first win, her family has shown up at almost every match. But in 2022, just a week before the World Championships, Lisa’s mum passed away. Though she’d encouraged Lisa to compete, it didn’t feel right, so she skipped that year’s competition. ​“But now, I’ve got even more passion,” she says. ​“Mum loved it, so that gives me an extra edge – I want it even more.”

It’s clear how much heart this sport holds for the people who compete.

Beyond winning world titles, Ben is working on something bigger for toe wrestling: legacy. His dream is to take it to the Olympics. The campaign began half as a joke in 1996, when his predecessors sent off an application and received a tongue-in-cheek letter back from the IOC, who apparently couldn’t decide if it was a summer or winter sport. This time, Ben’s serious. Last year, he and Alan flew to Paris to stage promotional matches during the Olympic Games. ​“If breakdancing can be an Olympic sport,” Ben shrugs, ​“why not toe wrestling?”

It might seem unlikely, but toe wrestling is gaining serious momentum. Each August, more competitors from around the world descend on Ashbourne for the World Championships, drawn by the chance to prove themselves on a gigantic eight foot Toedium and a prize pot that’s now hit £10,000, thanks to new sponsors.

The sport’s growth isn’t just happening at ground level. Over the past couple of years, toe wrestling has gone viral, with every clip the organisers post racking up millions of views. Even this grungy pub sport hasn’t escaped the pull of the algorithm – there’s a full social media team behind it now, producing slick reels, cinematic edits, and behind-the-scenes content. Tonight, half the crowd are gripping pints in one hand and filming with the other. Soon, fans will even be able to buy their own official Toedium: a miniature match board sold via links posted under the social clips.

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Thanks to its viral fame, toe wrestling is starting to attract a new generation of curious contenders. Martial arts influencer @McDojoLife, who boasts nearly 700,000 Instagram followers, is flying in from sunny Florida to Ashbourne’s market square this August to compete. He’s launching a new series where he completes eight-week training programmes dedicated to obscure sports. ​“I considered sports like Car-Jitsu and the Pillow Fighting Championship – but none as odd as toe wrestling,” he admits. ​“So I decided to make it my first for the series.”

He won’t be the last. The sport is ready for its next chapter – and it’s hungry for new contenders. Anyone can enter. That’s part of the magic: you don’t need a particular set of skills, flashy sponsors, or a personal trainer. Just a strong foot, a stronger mindset, and the guts to take your shoes off in front of a crowd.

“This is the only sport in the world where someone can come in off the street and walk away a world champion,” Ben reflects. ​“You can’t say that about anything else.”

Ginnia Cheng is a freelance journalist and comedienne. Follow her on Instagram.

Magda Campagne is a music and culture photographer. Follow her on Instagram.

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