Poldark: Phwoar! (Apparently)

Last week, having just watched the new Poldark, I wrote an item in a column admitting that I had — overnight — developed a major man crush on Aidan Turner, the smoulderingly sexy actor who plays the Cornish überhunk of the title. It was only a small item, but it provoked a large, fascinating and polarised reaction.

The women in my life were amused and one or two were mildly impressed by my candour, but for the most part they didn’t regard the admission as any big deal. The consensus was: of course you fancy Poldark, why wouldn’t you? He’s gorgeous.

My male friends said absolutely nothing at all. Deafening silence. So yeah, cheers for the support, lads. I go out on a bit of a limb, you leave me swinging. I didn’t encounter any hostility as such, but I don’t think I imagined the coughs of embarrassment, sad shakes of the head and failure to engage eye contact that punctuated the day of publication.

The point of that admission being that not only am I not gay, I’m not even the least bit metrosexual. No disrespect to anyone who is, but I’m not. While proudly exhibiting some traits (chiefly an insatiable appetite for gossip) traditionally associated with a feminine character, in matters of the heart and the flesh I dwell at the hetero end of the spectrum.

Before young Aidan popped up all pouty on my telly last Sunday, at any rate. Phwoar! ...

Robert Crampton, The Times.

Does nothing for me, but each to their own.

PS Good to see they had body hair clippers in 19th Century Cornwall (secretly hopes someone writes into the Daily Mail about this).