Jilly Cooper is wrong about men like Stanley Tucci and me – we’re more macho than she thinks

The queen of the bonkbuster derided modern men like the talented Mr Tucci as being unmanly compared to hunks of yore. Stanley lookalike Harry Wallop – who can’t bench press 170kg but can make a mean ragu – begs to differ…

Author Jilly Cooper, centre, has bemoaned the masculinity of modern men such as Stanley Tucci, right. In the case for the defence, Tucci lookalike Harry Wallop begs to differ (Getty/Supplied)

Jilly Cooper is a goddess. When I was a teenager I secretly devoured Riders, hoping that one day women would swoon over me as they swooned over Rupert Campbell-Black, even if I had never ridden a horse and did not have in my trousers a “leaning tower of pleasure” that was of “legendary length”.

But however much I admire Cooper for her bonkbusters and unabashed willingness to talk about sex, she has revealed herself to have a remarkably poor taste in men. In a recent interview to promote her latest book, Tackle!, she bemoans the modern state of masculinity, especially the type one sees on screen.

“They’re not nearly as attractive as they used to be, not nearly as macho. I like strong, powerful men,” she said. The greatest source of her dissatisfaction? Stanley Tucci – the epitome of modern, weak, metrosexual, modern fops. Apparently.

Excuse me, while I choke on my spaghetti alla nerano. Cooper, who is usually full of the sunshine, derides him as “a little bald man” and “anti-glamour”.

Oh, Jilly, you are profoundly mistaken. Tucci is an embodiment of all that I aspire to be as a father, husband, lover, traveller, cook, scarf wearer and, well, man.

I say this not as some Johnny-come-lately fan of his cocktail shaking during lockdowns. No, I have admired Tucci since I went to the cinema in 1996 to see Big Night, a film he co-wrote. Full of simmering tension, disappointment and wonderful pasta, he played a character determined to prove himself and make his mark. To be a man. It also started his long association with food, which now makes up a large part of his career – and his appeal. When he dons an apron to sauté some scallops that does not make him effete, as I suspect Cooper believes, it just makes him adept with molluscs. Most men can no longer fix cars because they are computers on wheels, but we can still fix a good strong meal.

Cooper doesn’t understand the fuss over the ‘adorable’ Tucci (Getty)

Crucially, when Tucci shakes a heavy cast-iron pan you can see his very impressive biceps rippling. Why do I keep going to the gym? Because my wife, while we were once watching the great man make spaghettiaglio e olio, declared: “My God, Stanley Tucci is buff, isn’t he?” If I persevere, maybe I too shall look as smoking as Tucci does at the stove.

For many men thinning on top, like me, he is a hero. Why? Because he proves that it’s possible to be hairless and hot. All it takes is weights, great tailoring, some statement glasses and a bucketload of charisma.

But it’s more than that – he exudes empathy. Whether he is making a negroni or tutoring Anne Hathaway’s Andy in The Devil Wears Prada, he is the man you want by your side, fighting your corner or mixing you the perfect drink.

Tucci and his wife Felicity Blunt at the Royal Academy of Arts in June (Getty)

A television reviewer once wrote that I was “the Stanley Tucci of consumer programmes” and truly it was the nicest thing someone has ever said. Even if it was in a review of a Channel 4 programme about Aldi. Beggars can’t be choosers.

Cooper’s epitome of masculinity is one stuck in 1980s Rutshire when women were meant to go weak at the knees at Rupert Campbell-Black – “spoilt, hedonistic, philistine, immoral and very right-wing”.

She likes strong men, but masculinity has moved on.

Being skilful at chopping onions doesn’t mean you can’t go out and chop wood – and, yes, I do own an axe and do both. But I don’t do it to prove a point; I do it because I hate paying for pre-chopped logs.

The problem is that the 2023 version of Rupert Campbell-Black is perilously close to Andrew Tate and his ilk. Campbell-Black, instead of showjumping, could well be a YouTube influencer, chomping on cigars and doling out phoney “advice” to teenage boys such as: “Your mind must be stronger than your feelings”.

Pumped: Arnie circa 1980, but there was a time when he was seen as being too ‘big’ to be a star (Getty)

The recent Netflix documentary Arnold, chronicling the life of Arnold Schwarzenegger, was a fascinating insight into the changing face of Hollywood and masculinity. He describes how difficult it was to break into acting, despite his success as a bodybuilder. His agent told him: “We cannot sell you. This is the 1970s. Dustin Hoffman is in, Al Pacino is in. These are all little guys – the total opposite of you.”

But the era of a neurotic America ill at ease with itself, epitomised by Robert de Niro’s Taxi Driver, soon made way for Reagan-era testosterone-fuelled films Conan the Barbarian and Sly Stallone’s Rocky sequels. Arnie became a superstar.

Body shapes go in and out of fashion. We’re now back to the less pneumatic Timothee Chalamet, Paul Mescal and Ryan “Kenough” Gosling. But Arnie remained successful because – unlike Jilly Cooper – he moved with the times and has been man enough to admit where he has gone wrong, specifically when it came to women. Referring to the pain and suffering caused by his marriage-ending affair, he said sincerely that it was “a major f*** up”.

What makes Arnie, and Stanley, macho is not a cry-baby, emotional incontinence, but a deep awareness of how you can make the world a better or worse place, be it with food or weightlifting. I can’t bench 170kg, but I can make a mean ragu.