Guide to youth

I know someone who fancies Maxine Carr. Seriously. He reckons she's proper fit, a sentiment apparently shared by many men. Can't see it myself, but it's got me asking if there's a male equivalent: publicly abhorred, secretly considered a hottie. Of course there is. His name? Kevin Federline, aka Mr Britney Spears. Oh come on. You know you love him. Sure, sure, he left his pregnant girlfriend for Britney. But if we let Billy Crudup's similar misdemeanour pass with barely a slap on his skinny wrist, can't we give Kevin a chance? (Incidentally, how's that for a double standard: favouring the well-off 'serious' actor over the working-class dancer, huh?) So now we've cleared that up, let's do like Roots Manuva: witness the fitness!

Alas, my lady friends are having none of it. 'He looks like he needs a wash,' they sniff. That's the point, I say. Aren't we bored by vain namby-pambies? Aren't we tiring of men who like to spend more time in the bathroom than we do? It's not right. It's not natural.