Only Fools And Horses montage

I’m a big fan of the TV series, Only Fools and Horses. This piece is signed by Uncle Albert, Grandad, Del Boy and Rodney. I also have bottles of Peckham Spring Water in the house and a signed portrait of Sid, the barman in The Nag’s Head, Boycie, Marlene, Trigger and Denzil. I bought the original Trotters Independent Traders three-wheel van, with blow-up doll for the passenger seat, which I drive around Hyde, wearing my Del Boy sheepskin coat and fl at cap

Movie memorabilia

Casino and Heat are two of my favourite fi lms and I have Robert De Niro’s autograph, Sharon Stone’s and Al Pacino’s. I love all the gangster stuff, like The Sopranos and I’m also a fan of the Dirty Harry movies. Kirk Douglas in Spartacus, another of my favourites: ‘I’m Spartacus… I’m Spartacus…’ One of my favourite pieces from my movie collection is a Girls! Girls! Girls! poster, signed by Elvis Presley. I bought it from a memorabilia dealer and it cost me £4,000. I love Elvis, I’ve even named my house Heartbreak Hotel

Manchester City shirts and pool table

City were relegated from the Premier League in 2001 but came straight back up, winning the First Division title in 2002. The fi nal day of that season, City’s favourite player at the time, Ali Bernabia, took his shirt off, signed it and said, ‘Send that up to Ricky Hatton’s box.’ The City boys have been great with me. Stuart Pearce, the former City manager, regularly phones me up to wish me good luck. In my games room, I have a pool table with the club crest on the baize, a shirt signed by Robbie Fowler and another by Colin Bell, Franny Lee and Mike Summerbee. My dad played for the team in that era and Summerbee’s a good personal friend of the family. All the shirts I have are match-worn, which is quite rare these days. David Beckham signed an LA Galaxy shirt and a pair of his match-worn boots for me and my son, Campbell, when I went out to Los Angeles recently. I love my football and I’ve been a City supporter all my life. Kevin Keegan, when he was manager, missed a game against Fulham in the 2003-04 season because of a bad back. So Arthur Cox, his assistant, asked me to come into the dressing room before the game to gee up the lads. I did my little pep talk, the game finished 0-0 and it was abysmal. I’ve never been asked back to do another team talk, funnily enough

Amateur career

As a kid, I was a big Bruce Lee fan and I started out in kickboxing at the age of 10. I wasn’t bad but these short legs of mine just weren’t built for kicking, so I switched to boxing. My medical record card is in this montage and you can see, reading it, that I was still known then as Richard Hatton and my address was The New Inn pub in Hattersley. To be honest, it might as well still be my address. But these are all my titles as an amateur, including the bronze medal at the top that I won at the world junior championships and all my national titles

Cyril, the butler

This guy here arrived from Caesars Palace, he’s called Cyril and he’s my butler. I had him shipped over from America and he arrived on a Thursday. I stood him in the hallway - he’s about 6ft, a heavy chap and I couldn’t shift him any further – and I went out for a beer on the Friday, which will surprise a few people, I know. Anyway, I got back home about half-one in the morning, opened the door and I nearly died with shock, seriously, because I’d forgotten all about Cyril being stood there. You open the door and he’s the first thing that hits you. I don’t know how many pints I’d had that night but Cyril quickly sobered me up. I’m used to him now, he doesn’t say a lot and he’s not exactly the best looking boy but he’s almost become part of the family

Bernard Manning’s underpants

These are Bernard Manning’s actual underpants and the photograph was taken two years ago when I was between fi ghts and weighing about 13st. I went to visit him and Bernard, God rest his soul, was wearing only his underpants. He had a cup of tea in his hand, which he put down as he headed upstairs. I thought he was going to put some clothes on. When he came back down he was wearing a new pair of underpants, he handed me the old ones and we took this photo. Then Bernard just whipped off his underpants, signed them and handed them over. I’ve never laughed as much as I did that afternoon

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