Pretty boys

As I was sitting in the car the other day, I looked to my right and saw a billboard depicting a pair of giant legs. Glancing up, I noticed, for what must be the umpteenth time, the face of Brad Pitt emerging somewhat incongorously from a Greek helmet. There was a gaggle of girls standing about and staring at it with gloopy expressions on their faces.

Brad Pitt — to the modern female the epitome of physical perfection. What a miserable thought. I don’t know a single member of my sex who has been to see Troy to see Troy. They have all been to see Troy to goggle at a half-naked Mr Pitt.

Frankly, I would rather goggle at the Mr Pitt who was once our prime minister. With his angular, rather cold face at least he looked like a man, even if it is doubtful that he behaved like one in the heterosexual department. But these modern sex symbols, who, it cannot be denied, attract women like a magnet attracts iron filings, look like a bunch of girls.

Consider the actors who were recently voted by a Channel 4 survey ‘the sexiest film stars on the planet’: Brad Pitt, Leonardo DiCaprio and Johnny Depp. Shave their faces, put make-up and wigs on them and they could give Kate Moss a run for her money. But do they really exude good old 18-carat SA? They probably don’t even have BO.

Why is it that women have rejected the traditional male blueprint — once personified on the screen by Clark Gable, Cary Grant, Spencer Tracy and Robert Mitchum — for something so effeminate? The new prototype has a small, often upturned, nose, wide eyes and a mouth that Liz Hurley would kill for.