Flicking through my stats today, while waiting for short story inspiration to strike (more productive than than raiding the bread bin) I noticed that the keywords bringing people to my blog last week (only to be sorely disappointed) were "sexiest thing on two legs Armitage." I don't know why, as I can't remember ever writing about him.
This man can clearly do no wrong at the moment. He's coming top in all sorts of "ideal hero" polls at the moment, even toppling the magnificent Colin Firth who didn't even make the list this year. The world has truly gone topsy-turvy. However, I'm not immune to the charms of the Armitage m'self. Or more specifically the character he played in The Vicar of Dibley, and he does tend to pop into my head when I'm writing the male lead in The Novel.
Romantic heroes in women's fiction do tend to follow a pattern, physically at least. Thick, dark hair, chocolate brown eyes, lightly tanned skin, lazy smiles and muscular arms. I thought about writing one with thinning hair, a lazy eye, sticky-out ears and a limp, but it wouldn't work - even if he was phenomenally good in bed and kind to old ladies and animals. This is fiction. Our heroes have to be generically good-looking, alpha males, even if they're penniless and flawed in the personality department. It's the law.
The second most Google-ed words on my stats list were "sheepskin slippers".
Sex-crazed grannies anyone?
