I caught a bit of that Ewan McGregor travelling on his motorbike programme last night and I was reminded that the only time I’ve ever found him attractive is in Trainspotting. This is bizarre, perhaps worrying, but by no means an isolated incident as my taste in crushes has always been somewhat off kilter. They have fallen into three main categories:
The Dodgy Mancunian
I could say it is a musical thing, growing up on a diet of The Smiths, The Stone Roses and Joy Division, but that wouldn’t be strictly honest. Because as much as I have admired after Ian Brown and Johnny Marr, the first man from the north west I desired was Terry Duckworth, the errant son of Coronation Street stalwarts Jack and Vera Duckworth. Terry was always a wrong ‘un but for some reason I found him rather attractive. The passage of time has made me realise that I was clearly wrong.
The next manifestation was Shaun Ryder of the Happy Mondays, early days Happy Mondays I must point out when he had floppy hair, an arrogant swagger and the drug use hadn’t quite become abuse. Little did I know that he was going to evolve into a human slug like creature and I would bear the shame of once having fancies him on top of pity for him that it all went so wrong.
The Surly Scot
My love of Primal Scream and their frontman Bobby Gillespie has been well documented here, I’ve previously confessed to a liking for Ian Rankin but there lurks a dark secret. I really fancy Duncan Bannatyne, the dour, sour Scottish businessman from Dragon’s Den. There’s not much more to say about this really – I’m ashamed and embarrassed but there it is out in the open.
The Older Man
I have never ever been out with anyone older than me. Every partner has been around my age but usually a matter of weeks younger than me. And yet in the world of dream men, there have been quite a few of advanced years. As a child, I loved Gregory Peck which is understandable in that in his prime he was a fine figure of a man, but I also loved him as he was at the time, snow white haired. Then there is Anthony Hopkins. Again nothing wrong with him but at the height of my Anthony Hopkins phase, I was about 19, my friends all like Brad Pitt and the two of them were starring together in Legends of the Fall. I had to decline an invitation to see it as I was embarrassed that I’d be swooning over the wrong one.
However, the worst case of this love is my affection for the sadly deceased Paul Eddington. I loved him first in Yes Prime Minister and then in retrospect in The Good Life. IMDB describes him as a ‘tall debonair actor’ but it was his bumbling visible awkwardness that I loved. In real life he was unassuming and wanted his epitaph to be ‘He did very little harm’. I like that and I still like him, but now he’s gone I have to make do with Geoffrey Palmer.
All of this brings me onto the latest improbable crush. I’m still watching Prison Break despite the fact it is patently ridiculous and the reason for this is not the so-called star Wentworth Miller who is undoubtedly a very attractive being but now leaves me cold. My reason for viewing is Alexander Mahone (William Fitchner). He was the best thing in the second series, by virtue of being the best actor in it by a mile but in the third series, he’s toned, tanned and constantly shivering and sweating, a man on the brink of nervous collapse but he’s the one for me.
So now I’ve humiliated myself (believe me, I'm blushing here!), share your own guilty desires, please.