Hello handsome!

In the wake of Quentin Letts' unbelievable piece of misogyny about the lack of "knockout lovelies" in the Commons, meet and greet the Daily Mail's hunks.

How can you girls have been so wrong all this time? Whenever the question "what type of man do you go for" is asked, it's always the Hollywood hunks that crop up. Brad Pitt and Johnny Depp, Christian Bale and Ralph Fiennes, Jake Gyllenhaal and George Clooney. And the list goes on.

But if only you girls forgot Hollywood for a moment and simply paid heed to the journalistic charm of the Daily Mail's newsroom, you'd finally register that a stunning selection of studs has been hiding behind your favourite paper all this time.

Just take a good look. Quentin Letts, what a knockout inamorato he is, a face only a mother could love, with that Harry Potter-esque aura about him exuding the charm of a burnt-out medieval minstrel. I bet you'd love to see his fit self in his speedos this summer.

Then they say a nice pair of eyes is what does it for the women. Kevin Costner, I hear you say? That overrated Canadian? You've obviously never seen a picture of Peter Hitchens. Look at those piercing eyeballs, wooing the readers like a pair of sexy mermeids.

Or what about Max Hastings? Doesn't that suave parting just make your heart throb? The meticulous precision of the comb hitting the upper ear, a single swoop to the left and Bob's your uncle, he's parted his hair. A woman would kill for a piece of that.

If you like someone a touch more mature, then William Rees-Mogg is the one for you. Sod Sean Connery, Mick Jagger and those overrated OAPs, Rees-Mogg's appeal is like that of a fossil. You just keep staring at it.

Then there's chief scorcher Richard Littlejohn. Oh calm down now, girls. Flushing in public is not the done thing. With the cool of an embittered grannie and eyes close together like those of a mongoose, you bet this slightly ageing, long-faced, handsome devil has got queues of admirers in bikinis outside his Florida home.

None, however, can compare to pasty-looking editor-in-chief Paul Dacre, the man who ultimately gave the nod to Quentin Letts' stunning piece of journalism. Beauty is a quality of the soul, and Dacre's virile views of the world are simply irrestistible to most people of the female species.

So, time for an apology, ladies. You just aren't good enough for the Daily Mail hunks.