Davide Biondini

You don't know the name, you don't know the face but by gob you know that titian tousled look anywhere. Yes, Davide Biondini (quality name to boot) is the latest athletic auburn footballing maestro, having been just called up to the Italian football squad after putting in some majestic performances for his club Caligari in Sardinia. Imagine it; who would have thought we'd see the day when a ginger Italian was pulling the strings at the heart of the Azzuri's midfield. There must be around four rustynuts in the whole country! In a flurry of typically erudite footballer parlance, Biondini described the call-up as "a dream come true". Forza Biondini!



Right: Davide Biondini, Italian footballer, pointing and looking shocked after spotting one of the three only other ginger Italians in the whole country in the crowd.

Henry Shefflin

Proof that adonises can be humble yet still in possession almost pre-destined greatness, Kilkenny hurler Henry Shefflin bestrides the pitch like a modern day copperknob Cú Chulainn, cutting a swathe through the unfortunate mere mortals who have to mark him and then, after his exertions, he goes home and sorts out finance for New Holland tractor sales in the south-east region including Tipperary, Carlow, Kilkenny, Wexford and Kildare. King Henry, as he has been anointed by his legions of followers, is worthy of Hamlet's effusive praise: "What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! How infinite in faculty! In form and moving how express and admirable! In action how like an angel! In apprehension how like a god!" Pity he left out 'In hair colour, how ginger'.





Right: Henry Shefflin, winning the prize for best fancy dress for dressing up as 'Henry Shefflin'.

Erlend Øye

Øye-vey! Auburn adonis and pop-polymath Erlend Øye sets the pulses racing of all hipster ladies with his lava-locks and over-sized specs. The Norwegian's nerd chic may have cool cred but his tunes in bands like the Kings of Convenience and the Whitest Boy Alive, alongside his all-singing-all-djing mobile disco act, have garnered him kudos from the all-important muso mafia. Given the plaintive nature of many of his songs and his lovelorn timbre, Øye is clearly a serial heartbreaker who has seen more beds than Ikea (Swedish, i know, but Scandinavia innit?). No doubt he'll be serving up more Norwegian wood to groupies when he tours around Europe with both his bands this summer and autumn.


Left: Erlend Øye, whose glasses are so big he has to duck every time he walks past a 'Loose Chippings' road sign.

Malcolm Middleton

Ginger whinger and former Arab Strap miserabilist misanthrope, Malcolm Middleton is a champion of the meloncholy, sucking the joy out of life with his brooding, bleak yet wryly genius observations of life's general shitness. The notorious stygian ging gloom of Arab Strap's output - courtesy also of beardy bandmate Adrian Moffat - neatly surmised the occasionally fraught aspects of being a carrottop: the sexual frustration, the outsider status, the persecution complex, the urge to get pissed up. In fact Middleton is probably getting pished and not having sex as you read this. Age, and the end of Arab Strap, has not quenched his urge to moan about stuff, and his solo work is a testy testament to the uselessness of getting out of bed every morning. He is foxy and from Falkirk.

Left: Malcolm Middleton, thinking about having a pint and a ride, but will probably only get one of those things.

Dave Kitson

Beanpole scarlet striker Dave Kitson has showcased his immaculately coiffeured orange barnet to the top clubs in the nether regions of the English Premier League, and added a much needed soupcon of ging to the otherwise uniformly bland football horizon. His eye for goal has sadly been poked recently after a lamentable spell at rough-and-tumble neanderthals Stoke City, whose lumpen brand of prehistoric tactics held no truck with the silken skills and finesse of Big Red Kitson. Despite his big money move, he was dolorous at his new home, and quickly returned to Reading, his natural abode. It was here, during a lightening spell of goal poaching, that his bloodshot bouffant came to the attention of England supremo Fabio Capello, who almost, almost, called him into the squad. But he didn't in the end.

Right: Dave Kitson, goading norm-hairs in the stand after scoring a winner and silencing their anti-bronzeballs chanting.

Paul Bettany

Foppish crimson dandy Paul Bettany is a London actor scallywag, famed for his roles in clunkers such as Wimbledon and The Da Vinci Code. Such artistic failures are easily forgiven here on Ginger Adonis however, as Bettany is a certified foxy, freckled ledgehammer. His wan complexion and invisible eyebrows have not stopped him from landing statuesque fucksocket Jennifer Connolly as his better half, with whom he has knocked out a cherry-haired cherub, faithfully doing his bit to save the ginger gene from extinction. Bettany was formerly addicted to cocaine, which puts him in that cool cache of assorted rock nobs, writers and blowhards, but with red hair.

Right: Paul Bettany just about squeezing into a shot of a freshly painted blue wall

Richie Whitson

Teak tough ginger meathead Richie Whitson is pound for pound, probably the meanest pumpkin pubed adonis on our list to date, and would happily kick sand in the face of regular tan-hided muscle marys, were he able to go to the beach without getting lobsterized. All this bloodshot- bollocked, rough and tumble Alaskan knows is pounding people's faces in, and it's a talent that has seen him rise up the ranks of the UFC, eventally to a point where a walnut faced chav from England punched his stawberry blonde highlights out. Never fear, this is a man that would rather punch a head than punch a clock, and he will be back, terrorising opponents in the octogon, who will find themsleves chewing on his freckled knuckles post haste.     

Right: Pasty pugelist Richie Whitson holding the belt he won for 'Toughest Ging on the Block'.

Seth Green

Hamster cheeked cherub Seth Green has had longstanding actor kudos in this camp for playing the young Woody Allen in Radio Days as a quintessential gom-faced ginger nut kid with over sized specs and a stygian world weariness. Although his career has increased in stature, he has not, and he seemingly remains around the same size as that small child he played many moons ago. But we are not sizeist here on Ginger Adonis, and all shapes of carrottops are welcome. Probably best known for his role as Doctor Evil's whiny bastard son, Green, sadly, will never get to play Superman. But he should change his name to Seth Red and become a shining copper beacon of Hollywood hot heads regardless.

Right: Seth Green, sitting on a bench his mam lifted him up onto. She then lifted him down off once the photo was done.

    

Damien Lewis

Ketchup headed thespian Damien Lewis popped up on a recent edition of knowitall panel show 'Have I Got News For You?' and rammed home the long accepted adage that redheads are funnier than norm-hairs by delivering a smattering of quips, bon mots, and juicy barbs with fiery aplomb. So what if they were all pre-rehearsed and he didn't write them - who cares? His Milky Bar features, and twinkly, patented Ginger Steel pout melted hearts and ladies loins up and down the country. Unconfirmed reports suggest he may have lobbed it into Sienna Miller at some stage, and although she if a vacuous waif, this is all good PR in the world of flamepubes.  

Right: Damien Lewis, coyly leaving a few shirt buttons undone to give the world a glimpse of his bloodshot chestbeard. 

Kevin McKidd

A steel blue-eyed glint, a hint of five o'clock shadow, a chiselled jaw-bone  - Kevin McKidd is our very own Ging Bond. Looking quiet chipper and a long way from the junkie he played in Trainspotting, McKidd is a pioneering nugget, as his pallid features have infiltrated mainstream American TV in the role of a doctor on wishy-washy drama serial Grey's Anatomy (like Scrubs but for menopausal women). In this role he is doing a marvellous job of subverting any lingering flame headed stereotypes by being all alluring and rugged, and not at all prissy and emasculated. He might still need to slap on factor 261 when he walks out of his pad in Hollywood Hills, but he is at least leaving a trail of gaping jaws behind, marvelling at his freckled, pasty visage, and vulnerability to the sunburn index.

Right: Kevin McKidd, staring intensely, with a coy smirk that says 'Look at my porcelin features you lowly tanned serf.'

Andrew McDonald

With his wee curly bob and pacey cricket ball delivery, Andrew McDonald is one of the hottest sporty firecrotches at play today. That he comes from Australia, a country renowned for Iron Man physiques, lantern jaws, and gloriously tanned bastards, is even more remarkable. No doubt ribbed as a child by Jason Donovan lookalikes who giggled and pointed at his Routemaster red dome, McDonald overcame this notable barrier and now hurtles a equally red cherry at pants-staining batsmen all over the globe, having climbed to the pinnacle of Aussie cricket. The Australian cricket cap is called the Baggy Green - well McDonald has earned the right to be known as the Baggy Ging.









Right - Andrew McDonald, astonished at his own gingerness, yesterday.