The mighty mighty good men of the U.K.

What a man, what a man, what a man, what a mighty good man…

Oh yes, he is!

“He’s not a fake wannabe tryin’ to be a pimp

He dresses like a dapper don, but even in jeans

He’s a God-sent original, the man of my dreams”

Boy, Salt ‘N’ Pepa and En Vogue really were onto something, weren’t they? Then again, this song was penned in the mid-’90s, which is right about the same time I was totally geeking out lusting after men of the U.K. Actors, more specifically.

And I had a major flashback this weekend – via some British/Scottish-specific beefcake viewing – that reminded me that they are, indeed, God-sent originals.

"Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds. Or bends with the remover to remove. Oh no! It is an ever fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken. Willoughby. Willoughby. Willoughby."

I began ruminating on this predilection of mine while watching Hallmark Channel’s “Honeymoon For One” – with my mouth hanging open. The scenery was just exquisite, and I’m not talking solely about the Irish countryside. Sure, that was lovely, too, but it was the sight of John Willougby that really got my blood pumping.

Well, OK, his name is really Greg Wise – but he’ll always be Willoughby to me.

It’s been a decade-and-a-half since “Sense and Sensibility,” so I completely relished all of the Greg face time in “Honeymoon.” And, I’m happy to report, I was not disappointed in the least.

Since the clip above doesn’t show nearly enough of him, here are a few stills that prove he’s still got IT. (He’s also got a wife – Emma Thompson – and a daughter, but I’ll conveniently forget about that as I ogle away.)

That "come hither" look works every blessed time./"Honeymoon For One" photos by Hallmark Channel

Pairing him up with a cute kid? Now that's just cruel and unusual...

Nicolette who? Time for Photoshop to work its magic.

Then I moved on to “Masterpiece Mystery’s” miniseries “Zen,” starring another of my imaginary British lovahs, Rufus Sewell.

Gazing deeply into Rufus Sewell's eyes is definitely one way to achieve zen.

Like Greg, Rufus has been a particular favorite of mine for quite a few years. I saw “Dangerous Beauty” and – as you can understand from this clip – I was a total goner:

My interest increased tenfold when I saw him perform “Luther” on a London stage in 2001. (I sa-wear he looked directly at me. We totally shared a moment. Yeah, right.)  Since then, Rufus has appeared in numerous films, including the HBO miniseries “John Adams.” (He played Alexander Hamilton, who was shot and subsequently died from a duel in Weehawken, NJ. Holla!  I knew there was a Jersey connection in here somewhere!) Rufus has also been cast as the lead villain in the upcoming movie “Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter.”

Anyway, I was thrilled when PBS showed “Zen” three weeks straight. Although to be honest, this scene (in the first episode, which also featured the aforementioned Greg Wise) totally freaked me out and confirmed the reason why I will never go spelunking:

I also managed to snag some time to watch the latest episode of “Burn Notice,” which starred, I’m sure you won’t be surprised in the least to hear, yet another object of my fantasies. I have two words for you: James Frain.

You want a piece of me? Why, yes, thank you for asking.

Or Franklin Mott, whichever you prefer. Actually, I’d prefer it if Franklin Mott hadn’t gotten blown to bits on “True Blood” (thanks a lot, Tara) last season, but hey, you can’t have everything. It was fun while it lasted, though:

So since James’ days in Bon Temps were numbered, and his time amongst “The Tudors” had expired and viewers weren’t flocking to “The Cape” like NBC wanted, I was kinda going through Frain withdrawal. Fortunately, his appearance as a (guess what?) villain in last week’s “Burn Notice” assuaged me – at least for the moment.

And it got me thinking about the first time I recall seeing James. It was in a – surprise, surprise! – “Masterpiece Theatre” series called “The Buccaneers.”

Yes, you were seeing correctly: The film also stars Greg Wise!

(Maybe I should rename this post “Six Degrees of Separation”…)

Jump on in, the water's fine. Don't mind if I do...

My summation of this weekend’s activities wouldn’t be complete without the inclusion of the gorgeous man behind the “Phantom of the Opera” mask, Gerard Butler. Though there was no hint of his Scottish brogue in the film, his soulful performance, passable singing, and hawt-as-all-get-out looks made it mandatory viewing for me. Here’s why:

While “Phantom” is what got me hooked on the Gerard bandwagon, his sensitive turns in “Dear Frankie” and “P.S. I Love You” sealed the deal. Heck, I even thought he was charming in “The Ugly Truth.”

And that, in a not so succinct manner, is how I spent my weekend. Not too shabby, is it? Of course, the appearance of two more British boys would’ve really made it a weekend to remember.

Break me off a piece of that. Please?

Like Sean Bean, for example.

Sean and I go way back (strictly plantonically speaking, I’m sorry to say). Sure, I was shocked and devastated to see his character massacred in “Game of Thrones,” but it was his role as the villainous – but oh-so-sexy and seductive – rake Robert Lovelace in the terrific “Masterpiece Theatre” bodice-ripping yarn “Clarissa” that got me hooked on him in the first place. Look at this – and truly appreciate the heaving bosom and heavy breathing:

Like Rufus, Sean has a propensity for being cast as a villain – and maybe that’s because he does it so well. I’ve enjoyed watching his evil ways in “National Treasure,” “Goldeneye,” “Don’t Say a Word,” and “The Hitcher.” And, fortunately for me, he’s got a mid-season television series, “Missing,” coming up in the new year.

I like you very much - just as you are, too.

I would’ve also liked this weekend to have included an appearance by Colin Firth, who plays prickly men named Darcy so very well. Just watch:

Several years after this classic BBC production of “Pride and Prejudice,” he completely charmed me all over again in “Bridget Jones’s Diary.” Apparently, nice boys do kiss like that:

Le sigh.

I don’t suppose there’s a chance in hell I’ll stumble upon a dashing Brit during my daily jaunts around Central New Jersey…  is there?

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