There has been a great deal of negative feedback to Samantha Brick's Daily Mail article Why Women Hate Me For Being Beautiful. I don't understand why. I completely empathise with Samantha's plight, for I too have the burden of incredible attractiveness to bear.

I'll give you an example. On a recent bus journey from Brent Cross Shopping Centre to Oxford Street, an elderly lady offered me a Cherry Fizz bomb. You're probably thinking "what a lovely surprise". But while it was lovely, it wasn't a surprise. At least, not for me.

Throughout my adult life, I've regularly had bottles of Lemon Fanta or Tizer thrust into my hand by women I don't know. Once, whilst I was waiting to pay for petrol, a well-dressed woman bought me scratch-card. On another occasion a lovely lady paid my fare as I got off the tube at Clapham Junction. (Although in hindsight she might have accidentally swiped her Oyster card twice). Another time I was tapped on the shoulder and presented with a beautiful bunch of flowers. I left that cemetery in such a good mood. Even bar tenders frequently shoo me away. And whenever I ask what I've done to deserve such treatment, these people always say; "It's because you're well handsome."

Whilst the annoyance of being mistaken for George Clooney, Brad Pitt or a young Jack Whitehall is over-bearing at times, I know how lucky I am. But there are downsides to being this incredible attractive - men hate me for no other reason than my breath-taking appearance. If you're a man reading this, you're probably really jealous. If you're a woman reading this, you're probably a tad moist. However this wonderfulness comes with a price. I am often overlooked for television work. I've regularly been turned down for quiz shows and stand-up shows so as not to make the other comedians/panelists look ugly. It's hard to accept sometimes, but I do understand.

I've twice been asked to be best man at weddings and on both occasions I was asked not to look too good. I tried my best; after all it was their day. But the fact I stood out as a shining beacon in every photo is not my fault.

You'd think we men would applaud each other for taking pride in our appearances. I drink loads, I eat a lot, I don't go to the gym even when I want to. Yet nothing I do can affect my natural attractiveness which is why all my male friends see me as a threat and rarely ask me to go out with them - even the ones who are fairly attractive (not comparatively obviously).

So I completely understand and sympathise with Samantha Brick's plight, and I'm hoping, praying, that sometime in the future my looks will fade and that I will eventually understand what it's like to be a 'plain', 'normal' bloke. But until then, I will have to continue living with my affliction. Please don't hate me for it. Just understand that my incredible beauty is as much a curse as it is a blessing.

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