On the tube this morning: six-foot-two of toned ebony impressiveness. Impeccably dressed in a sheer black sleeveless jumper, powerful shoulders exposed, tattooed biceps rippling each time he flicked another page of Metro. Occasionally he would glance nonchantly over his sunglasses, ensuring he was having the desired effect on the carriage. And he was. Women [and at least one man] gazed openly at him, lustfully watching his every controlled move. Men stared equally openly, the envy, and downright bitter jealousy, plain. People on the down escalator turned round and rubbernecked as he went up into the ticket hall, which came to an almost complete standstill as every single person stopped what they were doing to stare at him.