Why women love ... the dashing Sergeant

THE star of Strictly Come Dancing is the latest in a long list of men who prove you don't need to be a stud to have sex appeal

HE IS, by any standards, a most unlikely sex symbol. With his grey comb-over, puffed-up, lived-in face and portly figure, John Sergeant is to handsome what Graham Norton is to understatement. And that's without even touching on the way he gallumphed across the dance floor.

While his fellow contestants on Strictly Come Dancing glided smoothly from one side of the room to the other, he exhibited all the poise of a rutting walrus. He had spirit, he had bravado. But no number of sequins, no amount of hamming it up for the crowds, could hide the fact that he had no actual talent. More zeal is exhibited at the average Goth concert than Sergeant could muster for the tango; defter footwork is in evidence in the queue for the gents at Parkhead than he demonstrated in his cha cha cha.

So bereft of panache was the hapless BBC journalist that the judges declared open season on him. He was "a dancing pig in Cuban heels", "Jo Brand's love-child" and "a ballroom chancer". They sniped at him and urged the public to see sense and vote him off. Yet far from being scoffed at by viewers, the balding 64-year-old, whose everyday wardrobe consists of worn cords and comfortable sweaters, has become an unlikely hero and heartthrob, a symbol of rebellion for all those who like to thumb their noses at authority and a bit of a dreamboat for women who are more interested in a man's confidence and sense of humour than his six-pack.

It was those fans who kept him on the show long past his sell-by date. Facebook alone had 20 support groups dedicated to ensuring the votes kept on coming. And it was those fans too, who last week, complained to the BBC in their thousands when Sergeant, in the face of all the criticism, decided enough was enough and quit the show.

When he tripped the light fandango (or perhaps not) for the last time on our TV screens last night, Sergeant did so content in the knowledge that not only has his brush with Strictly Come Dancing raised his stock for future public speaking engagements, it has proved once and for all that you don't need to be a stud to have sex appeal.

Admittedly, some of the enthusiasm for the ungainly one can be attributed to a very British passion for the underdog. Sergeant was, after all, chosen precisely because it seemed likely he would make a fool of himself. Then there were those who saw, in the way he was mocked, an example of society's ageism at its worst.

But there were also plenty of women – particularly women of a certain age – who looked into his twinkling eyes and saw the man of their dreams. Like legions of supposedly ugly men before him – think Rowan Atkinson, Phil Jupitus, Bill Bailey – he captivated by sheer dint of his personality.

And just in case you think I am exaggerating, let me share some of the paeans his performances on SCD have inspired. Early on in the series – before there was any hint of controversy – Esther Rantzen wrote: "The one adjective on every woman's lips after we saw John tango was 'adorable'." On blogs, too, the compliments were effusive: "John is such a sweetie"; "He is wonderful, a charming man"; and "My mum was a production guest on Saturday and met John afterwards – she was totally smitten with him – he was charm personified."

One writer in a national newspaper even referred to him as my "sexy John Sergeant" and the "loveliest chubby chops on the dance floor", although, to be fair, I think she may have been taking the mickey.

It may seem as if the nation has taken leave of its senses but then again it isn't the first time. While ugly women tend to take an invisibility pill, there is no apparent bar to ugly men becoming sex symbols. Throughout the decades there have been hundreds of them: from Charles Aznavour to Gerard Depardieu, from Serge Gainsbourg to Jeremy Paxman, it is clear that – when it comes to men's pulling power, looks aren't everything.

Think of those mismatched couples: Rod Stewart and Penny Lancaster; Salman Rushdie and Padma Lakshmi; Bernie Ecclestone and Slavica Radic. Admittedly, the last two of those couples have now split, but there must have a spark of attraction there to begin with.

And what about Marlon Brando? According to Truman Capote – who was in turn quoting theatre producer Irene Selznick – the star did not gain his sex symbol status until he broke his nose backstage while playing Stanley Kowalski in A Streetcar Named Desire.

A succession of studies have shown that given only visual cues, women are as superficial in their judgments as men. "They look for muscular – but not overly muscular – bodies and broad jaws and deep-set eyes," says Dr Viren Swami, a psychologist and author of The Psychology Of Physical Attraction. "This is partly because they are signifiers of good gene pools and partly down to social and cultural factors. Society has ideals which women buy into and men have to live up to."

So how come so many men buck the trend? What is it about the likes of misshapen men such as Leonard Cohen, Mick Jagger or character actor Steve Buscemi that makes many women go weak at the knees?

With some, of course, it's simply wealth or status. Or, as Caroline Aherne's alter ego Mrs Merton famously put it when interviewing Debbie McGee: "What first attracted you to the millionaire Paul Daniels?"

With others it may be the belief that men who are not so good-looking are more creative. Cohen's song 'The Chelsea Hotel' – which allegedly celebrates a sexual encounter between the famously craggy singer and Janis Joplin – contains the lines: "And clenching your fist for the ones like us, who are oppressed by the figures of beauty, you fixed yourself. You said: 'Well, never mind, we are ugly but we have the music.'"

The same goes for intelligence. Barrister and writer John Mortimer once said he had to talk to a woman for half an hour before he made her forget his face. Yet he won a reputation as a philanderer, suggesting his conversational skills were more than capable of winning the day, and the girl.

But with John Sergeant – as with many, many others – it is his ability to raise a laugh that has drawn his admirers. This, after all, is a man who was once a promising comedian. He appeared alongside Alan Bennett in the 1966 BBC comedy series On The Margin, before deciding to train as a journalist. He is also the man who gave us one of the funniest slapstick moments in political history, when he was shoved out of the way by a grumpy Bernard Ingham as Margaret Thatcher came out of the Paris embassy just days before her resignation (a harbinger surely of his future clumsiness).

On Strictly Come Dancing, too, he was more than willing to play the clown. Whether he was clicking his Cuban heels or dragging his partner – the stunning Siberian Kristina Rihanoff – along the floor like a sack of potatoes, he had his tongue firmly in his cheek. When asked to describe the tango, he said: "It has all the characteristics people associate with me – passion, rhythm and a raw sexuality."

And while judge Arlene Phillips was incensed by his habit of shirking dance practice to read the papers, many others found his laid-back, devil-may-care approach enchanting.

Swami, a senior lecturer at the University of Westminster, who is currently conducting a study into how different humour styles influence our perception of ideal size, says that when it comes to people in the public eye, we are influenced by more than looks.

"The thing about celebrities is we know so much about them, so we have non-physical cues which play a role in determining how attracted we are to them," he says.

"Things like past relationships and the way they behave towards other people will influence how we perceive them."

Swami believes Sergeant's particular brand of humour is crucial to his appeal. "Of course, there is a great deal of variation in individual preferences and there may be people who find him physically attractive," he says. "But he also uses humour in a very particular way – to poke fun at himself – which makes people feel sorry for him, and also makes people laugh. He does not use it in bullying. He never mocks other competitors, which might turn people against him."

That may be so, but that doesn't explain how Sergeant – who even in his youth was not possessed of classic good looks – attracted his pretty wife Mary, or the growing number of decidedly risque comments about his desirability.

Gil Greengross, an evolutionary psychologist, who teaches at UNM West University in New Mexico, believes self-deprecation is one of the principal weapons in the male seducer's armoury and cites Hugh Grant's somewhat understated attempts to woo a film star in the movie Notting Hill as a prime example.

Author of the study: 'Dissing Oneself: The Sexual Attractiveness Of Self-Deprecating Humour', he says: "It is a risky form of humour because it can draw attention to one's real faults, but based on the idea that verbal humour evolved to function as a fitness indicator, self-deprecating humour can be an especially reliable indicator, not only of general intelligence and verbal creativity, but also moral virtues such as humility."

Sergeant has humility in spades as demonstrated by the dignified manner in which he announced his departure (no finger-pointing, no snide asides, just an acceptance his popularity was pushing better dancers out of the competition) and in the way he reacted to his new matinee idol status. "I am amazed at all the positive reaction I've got from some women, I can't believe it," he said in bemused delight.

Sergeant might not take his decision to quit too seriously (indeed, he seems to be much preoccupied with the thought of the Caribbean cruise he is embarking on later this week). But it does represent a serious blow to the Saturday night schedules – and could shift the balance in the battle between the channels. The row has also fed into the perceived lack of judgment in the BBC (especially when it comes to popular entertainment), displaying the corporation's failure to understand what truly makes the British people tick.

Yet it is a pleasing thought that while over on ITV Simon Cowell has been trying to find a idol with universal appeal, a portly man with more than his fair share of the X-Factor has been shuffling his two left feet round a studio over on BBC1. That thought alone should be enough to see him Sergeant through those tough days ahead on board the Oceana.