At 61 years old, the trademark golden mop is now infused with mercury, his face bears the striations of long-forgotten months in distant wildernesses, and he is slightly bemused at the idea that anyone could still be interested in anything he says or does.

Media-wary—for reasons which will be detailed later—yet unfailingly polite, Mangels says: “I have no idea why you are calling me. The days of being a celebrity as such are far behind me and I’m kind of taken aback that I am remembered at all.”

There is no malice in his tone. Rather, it’s one of a man who has his peace with the past and is living his present in quiet equanimity. Mostly, this involves surfing secret breaks “off the islands in the Pacific” and revegetating his property on South Australia’s Eyre Peninsula.

A resurgence in attention is something that Alby will have to get used to, as Hollywood producer Paul Mason—whose credits include Lasse Hallstrom’s latest film Hachiko—recently signed a deal to document Mangels’ life story. And what a story it is. When he was eight, Alby’s Dutch parents migrated to South Australia and, by all accounts, his childhood was lived against the backdrop of the Murray River at Murraybridge.

At 23, Alby had an epiphany: there must be more to life than working as a brickie in Murraybridge. Consequently, in 1971, he and mate John Fields set off on what was supposed to be a one-off walkabout.

With a modest $400 in funds and a 16mm Bell and Howell film camera to capture their adventures, the exciting journey fomented a six-year odyssey which encompassed 56 countries across four continents. Along the way, Alby worked as a mechanic, a baker, a stockman, an unfeasibly large jockey, and an insurance salesman whose own life presented a level of risk that very few brokerages would be keen to accept.

The result was the 1977 film World Safari, the huge success of which took everybody but Mangels by surprise. Having conducted the equivalent of focus groups in schools, community halls and drive-ins, before the final product was edited, World Safari was a beguiling mix of natural wonder and ‘no-way-dude!’ moments.

“When you have six years of material to select from,” says Mangels, “chances are you will end up with a pretty dynamic product.” But there was more to the movie, which he notes, “was at one stage on at the same cinemas as Star Wars and Superman. My fondest memory of the time was that [the movie] was genuine family entertainment.

“Three generations would show up to the theatre and enjoy the film from start to finish. I don’t think you see that anymore. There was something in there for six-year-olds, 16-year-olds and 60-year-olds. I just don’t see products like that today.”

Part of World Safari‘s allure was the star’s recklessness. He exposed himself to a level of danger that khaki’d contemporaries such as Malcolm Douglas and the Leyland Brothers—not to mention antecedents such as Steve Irwin—would never consider.

Aside from the narrow escapes from both aggressive gorillas and aggressive guerrillas, Alby could always be relied upon to do himself a claret-spilling injury or three. So much so that his injuries provided fodder for running jokes with stand-up comics, who made much of the ‘mangle’ word play well into the mid-1990s.

Another special element in the Mangel mix was humour—some of it slapstick, much at Mangels’ expense. As if to suggest he didn’t take himself too seriously and didn’t mind looking silly. For example, this exchange from World Safari:
Alby: “What sort of fish is this?”
Islander: “Saltwater fish.”
Alby: “Where do you catch them?”
Islander: “Out of the sea.”

Then there were the ladies. Accompanying Alby on his escapades were women most Australian men could only dream of during their long and lonely suburban nights. While Alby was known to don a loincloth, these beauties featured in both precarious situations and the highest of high-cut bikinis.

Perhaps the most famous of his female counterparts was Sale of the Century bombshell Judy Green, who later suffered severe head injuries in a car accident with Mangels in South America. Then there was the equally striking Michelle Ells, Lucinda Dunn and Tina Dalton.

There was no doubt about it; by the time World Safari II was released in 1984, Alby Mangels was the man Aussie blokes wanted to be and women wanted to do.

Alby looks back on his image as a Don Juan De Speedo with a degree of wryness. “To say that my relationship with these girls was strictly professional would be untrue, but it wasn’t like I was trawling for women. These films took four or five years to make, and like any other bloke, I had relationships in those periods.”

He also admits that having his cohorts “prancing about with not much on” was by no means a happy coincidence, considering that half of his intended audience were men.

World Safari II was such a massive hit that it outgrossed—on many levels—Ghostbusters on its Australian release. According to several accounts, it made Mangels wealthy enough to purchase a farm, a plane, a helicopter, a boat, and 80km of beachfront property on Eyre Peninsula, where he hoped to create a wildlife sanctuary.

The dizzying success of World Safari II was matched by the failure of its 1988 sequel. The formula just no longer worked, and despite an enormous marketing budget, Mangels lost the lot. It was at this point that his life began to resemble a country-and-western song. Hordes descended on Alby’s properties to buy a piece of the great man when he sold his assets—his ketch, Gretta Marie, was burnt and sunk; and his beloved dog Sam was shot.

When your trajectory is downward, there are usually a few resentful people who will gladly sink in the boot to help you on your way.

A cameraman who had not been paid after Mangels went bust told A Current Affair that in his quest for an action shot, Mangels threw his pooch from a moving vehicle, and that much of the ‘how-did-they-capture-that?’ dynamism of the World Safari franchise was staged. So comprehensive was the stitch-and-bitch segment that Mangels had women crossing streets to slap him.

Accepting that several storylines were massaged and incidents concocted, it is the accusations of animal cruelty that still sting to this day. “There’s just no way I would have done that to any animal,” Alby growls. “Let alone an animal I loved.

Besides, how could it be physically possible to throw a dog out of the back-seat window of a car while driving? The story just makes no sense, yet a lot of people believed it.” Remember: this from a man who once found a foal with a fly-blown hole in its neck in the outback, carried it all the way to the nearest farm, milked its mother by hand to bottle-feed the infant, then spent weeks nursing it back to health.

While flying over a flooded area of Western Australia, Mangels also spotted cattle and horses stranded on small islands created by the sudden deluge. With some already dead from starvation, he spent the next two days filling up a small borrowed aircraft with bales of hay and dropping it on the islands. In addition to this, Alby is a long-time patron of the Mountain Gorilla Survival Appeal.

This is also the man who, when his mate Piers Souter became a quadriplegic after falling from a jetty, created a wheelchair for him that won an Australian Design Award.

Penniless and disenchanted, Alby withdrew to the only home he had left: a caravan. Briefly contemplating a return to his bricklaying career, eventually he couldn’t deny his true nature and hit the road again with a camera in tow. Now a fairly low-key operator primarily supplying the American cable TV market, Mangels has
made more than 80 environmental documentaries.

Yet he still despairs for the future of our planet. “Yes, we are becoming more aware of humanity’s impact on everything from global warming to salinity,” he says. “But people just don’t realise how far gone the situation is. It’s not something that we need to tackle soon. Governments and individuals alike have to take action today or the wilderness areas I have spent my career filming simply won’t exist for people to experience anymore.”

Keeping a snake’s-belly profile following the collapse of his media empire, Alby went about his business in Australia and abroad, generating a spate of Elvis-like sightings which were lapped up by a public that still held a degree of fascination for him. Reports of Mangels travelling the west coast of South Africa in 1993 mingled with those of travellers seeing him scoffing a steak sandwich at the Port Wakefield Roadhouse on May 17, 1997.

When whispers of an unauthorised biography surfaced in 2007, Mangels decided that “enough crap” had been written about him, so he collaborated with Lynn Santer on the book Alby Mangels: Beyond World Safari (JoJo Publishing, RRP$34.95).

One gets the impression that he thought this would be the end of the fascination, and that he might be able to get on with a life of riding waves and producing small films in exotic locales. Never married, a black belt in tae kwan do and a two-time winner of the Australian Waterskiing Championships, Mangels is still the kind of man who many of us wish we could be; after being fêted and fucked over by the fickle creature that is fame, Alby radiates a sense of contentment. He’s obviously happy in who he is and what he does.

Competing sex drives can be tough to manage; Dr Charmaine Saunders offers advice on how to get the most from your love life…

It’s important to have clear boundaries in this area because no-one should ever do anything in bed that he/she doesn’t want to. However, partners who love each other want to share and give pleasure, hence the conflict.

If one partner wants sex every night and the other only once a week, this will cause problems. The simplest solution is compromise; for example, make love two to three times a week to satisfy both parties.

This issue is not just about physical needs, but emotional needs as well. The unsatisfied partner begins to resent the other and feel rejected, while the unable-to-satisfy partner feels pressured and inadequate.

It can spiral out of control if left unattended. Another important tool which can make things better is open communication. If couples can speak about their needs bravely and honestly, they can work out positive techniques in a loving way. In silence, anger grows and festers.

Loss of libido can be caused by triggers such as work stress, fatigue, childbirth, business and unresolved family issues. However, there isn’t a problem unless you make it one.

Men and women have different levels of libido, and it’s a myth that men want sex more than women. It can work either way. You shouldn’t feel rejected if your partner doesn’t want as much sex as you because sex and love are not the same thing.

The worst thing you can do is pressure your partner, as it will turn them off even more. Compromise and communication are two of the most vital elements in a relationship’s success.

The 80-year-old founder of the ‘God Hates Fags’ movement and his followers picket gay-pride marches, funerals, detention centres, high schools and,well, basically everything.

They carry bright, multi-coloured signs bearing slogans such as ‘Thank God For September 11′ and ‘AIDS Cures Fags’. Recently, for various reasons, Phelps has aimed his hatred at Australia. Penthouse caught up with the gay-hatin’ crusader to find out what he and God have against the land Down Under.

Does God hate Australia?
Sure, that’s one of the worst fag countries there is in Western civilisation.

You were in favour of the 2009 Black Saturday bushfires…
Oh yeah, they got upset with me, that whole island. I told them it was Sodom in the Pacific, and they made arrangements with a local television station for me to go over there to tell them, “You’re going to hell, every last cockeyed one of you.”

Which country does God hate more, America or Australia?
Well, there are more Americans than there are Australians, but that would be the only reason for the difference. They’re both hell-bound, and they’re both mighty proud of it, wallowing around in their filth. No, the Lord does not love Australians. They kill their babies and they promote fagdom—two hateful sins.

Have you seen the video of The Chaser’s Charles Firth hitting on your son in a picket line?
I wasn’t at that picket, but that happens all the time. You know Brüno [Sacha Baron Cohen's gay character]? He did that, too. He hopped out of a van and was trying to grab one of the signs. He had been pretending he was on our side, but we read him from the time he hit town. He was so disappointed that he couldn’t entrap us in anything that he drove out when we were picketing an Easter parade from some of these heretic churches.

Why did your Westboro Baptist Church picket Heath Ledger’s funeral?
That’s another reason why the Australians were mad at us. But you got a guy playing a fag and encouraging young people all over the world to experiment with that filth. He needs to be preached to, and when he does everyone a favour and commits suicide, there needs to be someone to interpret that as a sign of the times of this evil world. He had no business doing that.

Did you ever see Brokeback Mountain?
Of course not.

How do you know how bad it is?
Everyone in the world’s talking about it. It’s all over the media, or it was.

You have also referred to ex-President George W. Bush as a “fag enabler”…
Of course he’s an enabler. Two weeks before September 11—and that which triggered, in our theological opinion, September 11—Bush appointed Mike Guest, this out-of-the-closet fag, to be the United States ambassador to Romania. With his butt buddy sitting in the US embassy in Bucharest, all of Europe looked upon this country as a big fag country and Christianity as a fag religion. The only thing worse than a fag is a fag enabler because they are not driven by that internal lust themselves, and therefore they are without excuse for promoting it.

In your mind, everyone seems to be either a ‘fag’ or ‘fag enabler’.
Yeah, they enable; that’s Romans 1:32: He knowing the judgment of God that they would commit such things are worthy of death, not only who does them—that’s the fags—but take pleasure in them that do them—that is they who promote it and love it.

Do you think the following famous Australians are ‘fags’ or ‘fag enablers’? Olivia Newton-John?
I don’t know her; she must have been in another age.

Mel Gibson?
He’s a fag enabler. He promotes it. You take that Hollywood milieu, the zeitgeist, and that is so corrupt that we go out and picket them on general principals. If anyone in Hollywood dared to say anything that was the least bit negative about fags, their career would be over.You remember [US Supreme Court candidate Robert] Bork? He has a book on the subject called Slouching Towards Gomorrah. And he says, “When evil people become the majority, what’s the good of a Democracy when you have evil laws and evil people?” And that’s where we are today. They used to fear the Lord in this country; now they hate the Lord and they hate his word, and whenwe preach it, they hate us.

Was Steve Irwin, the Crocodile Hunter, a ‘fag’ or a ‘fag enabler’?
Was he in those movies?

What are “fag laws”?
I call them “fag laws”. They call them “hate speech laws”. They turned gospel preaching into a crime. Any country that does that is irreversibly damned.

So, in a way, Australia is even more evil than America because America’s First Amendment protects gospel preaching?
I’m not worried about this country as long as we have a First Amendment. You can’t turn innocent, peaceful gospel preaching into a crime because you don’t like the gospel message. They banned me from the United Kingdom. They’d rather have those Muslims declaring jihad against them than to have me over there, preaching to them.

Is the Crocodile Hunter in hell right now?
Probably. Look, he was in the entertainment industry. Enough said.

What do you say to the critics who accuse you of actually working on behalf of gays to show how absurd homophobia is?
I’ve heard that. That’s fine. Whatever they say, the Bible says it’s good. Once you say “Phelps” or “Westboro Baptist Church”, people automatically think “God hates fags”. That’s what we’ve established in this world. It wouldn’t matter what else we did.

You preach on the Internet about “fag faeces”. What’s that all about?
In the fourth chapter in Ezekiel, that was a technique that Ezekiel used to get attention. He said you are so filthy that you ought to have to eat faeces. And so it was required that the prophet put a cup of faeces in every loaf of bread he ate until he finally asked the Lord to get out of that by at least letting him use cow dung.

It says on your website that Obama is the Antichrist…
Well, there’s a strong argument that could be made for that. And it is being made by a whole lot more preachers than me. Did you ever read the Bible in your whole life?

Yes. I’ve read the entire Bible.
Well, you must have skimmed through some of it.

I don’t remember reading about Obama…
In Revelations 13, it describes him. The big mouth on him. That fits Obama to a T.

People say every new leader is the Antichrist. The Prime Minister of Australia could be the Antichrist, too…
Yeah, he probably is.

Is Obama a ‘fag’ or merely a ‘fag enabler’?
Well, I know he’s a murderer; he said if one of his daughters, who is 13 now, should make a mistake and get pregnant, he would kill the baby.

What do think about gay animals?
I don’t believe that, but what’s the relevancy anyway?

Well, if animals are gay, that tends to show that homosexuality is natural.
They say, “Are you a fag because you were born that way or because society made you that way?” It’s a matter of supreme irrelevancy how they got that way, to a Bible preacher. You got to stop it, and if you can’t control yourself any other way, castrate yourself. You hear me talking? I’m talking out of Matthew 19:12, where the Lord Jesus Christ said, “If you can’t behave, get a piece of rusty Kansas barbed wire and castrate yourself.”

I wasn’t aware that Jesus had made a reference to Kansas barbed wire…
Not quite like that, but he said, “There are some that make themselves eunuchs for the Kingdom of Heaven’s sake.”

Can gays repent?
No, they can’t repent because it’s an axiomatic matter of fact that you can’t repent something you’re proud of.

What if they are no longer proud of it?
You’re getting into discussions about Calvinism versus Arminianism—deep water, and you ought to just read the simple Bible verse in Jeremiah that says, “Were they ashamed when they committed such abominations? They were not at all ashamed, neither could they blush; therefore they shall fall with them that fall, and at the time I visit them.” In other words, they are going straight to hell.

Anything else you want to tell the people of Australia?
Yeah. It is not okay to be gay. It will destroy your life and damn your soul. And God hates fags.

His opponent, Josh Shooter, is still in his street clothes—somewhat snug footy shorts and a singlet. He tugs on the singlet so frequently that it’s hard not to feel anxious when near him. Like a rubber band drawn to its limits, it seems plausible that Josh might snap at any moment.

“The only reason we don’t kick each other’s teeth in is because we want to do this five days a week,” says Shooter, the current Heavyweight Champion of local Victorian promotion New Age Wrestling (NAW). “It’s just all about business.”

NAW is just one of dozens of small wrestling promotions currently operating throughout Australia. It regularly stages shows at Melbourne community halls, RSL clubs and pubs. The average grappler can make around $100 per bout.

“A lot of guys understand that wrestling here is either a part-time or casual job, and they treat it as such,” says Mark Mercedes, co-promoter of NSW-based promotion IWA Pro-Wrestling. “But the guys who are more serious about it try to make money elsewhere.”

Mercedes is one of the few Australians in recent times to get anywhere near the big stages—and big money—of American wrestling. In the 1990s, he performed in front of tens of thousands of people on the same bills as US legends such as Hulk Hogan, Paul ‘Mr. Wonderful’ Orndorff and the Junkyard Dog. Mercedes tells us that timing is as vital as talent when it comes to finding fame in the USA, citing the career of Aussie wrestler Peter Stilsbury, aka Outback Jack, as an example.

“Back in the days of WCW [World Championship Wrestling] and Outback Jack, they were looking for very gimmicky wrestlers, and Outback Jack’s gimmick came with [the success of] Crocodile Dundee. It was the right place and the right time. When you’re trying to break overseas, unless you’re over there [in America], constantly in their face, it’s very easy to be forgotten.”

“WWE is not going to worry about going overseas and looking for talent when [it's] got so much happening in America,” says wrestling historian Barry York. “America’s population is more than 10 times ours, so it’s reasonable to think there is 10 times as many up-and-coming pro wrestlers there.

“And the Australian market isn’t that significant. If they had a guy who entered the ring with a slouch hat or a boomerang, it might make it a bit more interesting for an Australian audience, but they’re not going to stop watching if there’s no Australian in the WWE. So there’s no great economic incentive to recruit from the Australian talent pool, which must be very frustrating for locals.”

While the US is pro wrestling’s financial promised land, it’s not the only option for Aussie grapplers with international aspirations. New Japan Pro Wrestling, which is screened during primetime on Japan’s Asahi TV, is actually more popular with purists than the American product, mainly because it values athleticism over soap-opera acting skills.

Melbourne wrestler, Krackerjack, whose body looks like it’s been through a mincer thanks to the ultra-violent barbed-wire matches he’s been involved in, spent some time in Japan in 2005.

“Wrestling is a national pastime in Japan,” Krackerjack tells Penthouse. “It’s not as counter-cultural as it is in Australia. It’s been popular ever since the end of World War II, so [Japan] has its own legends of the business over there.

“They do shows that regularly draw 20,000 people and even the small independent shows I was working were getting 500 to 1000, and they were running those shows three or four times a week.”

Consequently, World Championship Wrestling Australia was established and shown on TV from 1964, taking wrestling to the mainstream. Ron Miller, who co-owned WCWA from 1976, says Channel Nine chose to drop wrestling from its schedule at the end of 1978, thanks in part to its interest in World Series Cricket.

This decision triggered local promotions to fold, and while some continued to stage events at small clubs in the 1980s, things were never the same again.

Back at the Maltese Cultural Centre, better known tonight as the ‘NAW Arena’, a colourful cast of oddballs make flamboyant entrances to the ring, accompanied by cheesy hard-rock theme music.

The two standouts tonight are Iron Horse Morrison, an Andre the Giant-type brute with the fluency of movement of a slasher-flick goon, and Mickey ‘Fantabulous’ Jackson, a showboating pretty boy who grabs a female audience member’s drink and erotically pours it all over himself as he climbs into the squared circle.

The hundred or so hardcore fans snap photos with everything from high-end SLRs to smartphones, and clearly enjoy themselves as they cheer on the heroes and heckle the villains. BIG Huss and Josh Shooter demonstrate athleticism and genuine technical skill befitting the main event, and the ebullient atmosphere of the crowd conveys that this evening has been a fun night out, and 15 bucks well spent.

While wrestling for the NAW won’t make these guys household names or wealthy superstars, they will keep competing for as long as they can, because while Australian wrestling may be down on the canvas, it’s not ready to tap out just yet…

Unconcerned with being typecast, Goldie giggled her way through her feature film debut, playing a dancer in 1968′s The One and Only, Genuine, Original Family Band, and as a scatterbrain mistress in Cactus Flower (1969), which earned her both a Golden Globe and Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress.

With her career on the rise, Goldie starred opposite Peter Sellers in 1970 farce There’s a Girl in My Soup, holding her own against the comedy legend. She then showed she wasn’t just a fun babe with a rockin’ bod by impressing critics with her mature performance in drama Butterflies Are Free (1972), in which she portrays a young woman who helps her blind neighbour/lover deal with his past and controlling mother.

It was official: Goldie Hawn was versatile. Also in 1972, the beauty surprised fans yet again by teaming up with country music stars Dolly Parton and Buck Owens to record the album Goldie, which features covers of Parton’s ‘My Blue Tears’ and Joni Mitchell’s ‘Carey’.

Private Benjamin was also released in 1980, and proved to be the film that Goldie needed to launch her back onto the A-list. Hawn is fantastic as a snobby socialite turned army chick, and her entertaining performance earned her an Oscar nomination for Best Actress. Hawn also made her debut as an executive producer on Private Benjamin, and she has since produced an additional seven movies.

Then along came lucky bugger Kurt Russell. Even though the two had worked together previously on The One and Only, Genuine, Original Family Band, they fell in love on the set of 1984′s Swing Shift, and went on to star in the 1987 leadweight comedy, Overboard.

Proof that Goldie could still do scorching (now well into her 40s) came via 1990 action comedy Bird on a Wire, in a scene where a gust of wind lifts Hawn’s skirt to reveal brief briefs and a healthy amount of arse to an appreciative Mel Gibson, who quips: “When did you start wearing underwear?”

No digital trickery was required when Goldie played a woman with a perfect figure following an immortality treatment in 1992 comedy Death Becomes Her, before letting it all hang out as an ageing groupie in 2002′s The Banger Sisters. Passing the sexy on to daughter Kate Hudson. So much for the ‘dumb blonde’.

What are you working on at the moment?
I’m actually running a course on policing the organised crime aspects of the Australian bikie club for the Federal Police Executive College. A few police station masters from each state come along, and I try to teach them how to mediate between the police and the bikies because the traditional ‘hammer’ approach is just not working.

How do you remain objective? It must be difficult, considering that you have friends on both sides…
If I’m hanging out with a bikie club for a while, each night I call Julie van den Eynde, my field-note archivist, and debrief her thoroughly as to what happened, so the notes are as clean as they can be. I then get Julie to work me back through it all and take out any bias. It’s a scientific process—an insider/outsider technique.

Are there differences between US and Australian bikie clubs?
There is no [crime] problem here, compared with America. In a lot of ways, we have a pretty laidback, peaceful society, and our bikies tend to be that way, too. There is a lot more violence in the US gangs, and the customs are different. When the first Australian Banditos went over in around 1983 to meet up with the Banditos in America, they were shocked. They’d walk around a Bandito home and be offered the host’s wife or partner, and this shocked them because that custom did not take off here.

Is there an official mediator between bikie clubs in Australia?
The Motorcycle Council of Queensland tries to keep the Queensland clubs in line, and is by far the best tribunal in Australia. They allow two members from each club to come in and air their grievances, in an attempt to stop turf wars.
What is the major difference between a gang and a club?
Club is the preferred term. Bikies usually see ‘gang’ as a derogatory police term. You are only seen as a legitimate club when you have formed a group with absolutely no criminals in it, and you are operating at a level that is respectable within society.

How does one go about starting a bikie chapter in Australia?
There’s a hierarchy and a protocol that must be followed to get a club officially accepted in Australia. You need at least six members, three in smaller rural areas, and you have to get approval from the mother club, usually in the United States.
Why do you think that bikie clubs are seen in such a negative light?
Because some of the members in the clubs are criminals. However, what needs to be known is that bikie clubs are not criminal entities—some just have a few bad eggs in them. This is why other clubs are getting angry. There has been a drop in the core values of outlaw motorcycle clubs, and this is what we are attempting to wipe out for good.

William Shatner’s James T. Kirk was, at heart, an ordinary guy who did extraordinary things—such as pleasuring multiple green-skinned Orion slave girls while karate-chopping knobby-headed Klingon warriors with his other hand.

Sure, he was the only Starfleet cadet to ever successfully conquer the impossible training scenario known as the Kobayashi Maru exercise, but he cheated, because that’s what smart-arsed everyday blokes with pot bellies and cheeky grins do.

Christopher Pine’s younger James T. Kirk was less an ordinary guy than a Gen Y gym rat and part-time model, who had just enough bad-boy street cred to make him attractive to the space ladies without barring him from Starfleet Academy on a character test.

Anywhere Shatner’s Kirk went, he arrived a few moments after the bright yellow curve of his tummy. Pine’s starship captain, on the other hand, was able to wear a skin-tight skivvy without irony or embarrassment.

His physique recalls the type of sculpted douchebags you find at www.hotchickswithdouchebags.com—where guys who spend too long with fake tan are so inordinately proud of their massively ripped abs that they give them absurd names such as ‘The Situation’.

I’m sure that, like all Hollywood stars, Christopher Pine is a lovely bloke. It’s just that, like most modern male actors, once he gets that shirt off, he looks like a bunch of coconuts and half bricks jammed into a tight rubber bag. When the hell did this happen? It used to be that when big-name Hollywood actors took off their shirts…well, mostly they didn’t. And if they did, they looked like normal guys—guys who’d taken some care to look after themselves, but still normal guys.

The only muscle definition with which they were familiar came out of a dictionary, and some of them were so close in their physical build to you and I that they looked less like a bag of shit than they did a bag of shit that had spent months on the couch inhaling pizzas and playing video games.

Gentlemen, I do not see this as a positive development. I don’t imagine for a second that many of us are going to develop immediate eating disorders or exercise addictions just because we’ve seen Brad Pitt get his gear off in Troy; that’s not how the male mind works.

I fear, however, it’s exactly how the female mind works. It cannot be a good thing for the ladies to be constantly disappointed by the gap between what our culture imagines to be a perfect, or even an average, male form and the saggy, hairy, kinda blotchy and lumpy reality. Not good for them, and most assuredly not good for us.

It’s not a two-way street, of course. Men have long divided the world into the hotties of their imagination, and actual women. Probably because of all the training we get in as teens with magazines such as this.

A psychology has evolved within the male gender to help us cope with this disconnect. The idea of the unattainable: Megan Fox, for example; smokin’ hot, but unobtainable. Sports Illustrated swimsuit models? Smokin’ hot, but unobtainable. Penthouse Pets…you get the idea.

But when have the females of the species ever considered anything as unobtainable? They see, they want, they get. Whether it be shoes, bags, naughty treats from the dessert tray, more damn shoes, extra closet space for the extra shoes, another bag, and a few more shoes.

A woman who can own more pairs of shoes than there are days to wear them between now and the combustion of the universe is not going to be put off by any man who tells her to forget about finding a set of rock-hard, washboard abs anywhere other than up on the big screen. She will see. She will want. And she will kick our fat arses until she gets. God help us all.