I’d jump into bed with Monty Don – he might be an OAP but Gardeners’ World is the sexiest hour of my week | The Sun

HE’S an unlikely sex siren, but one who is making many women and some men’s hearts’ quivering.

Of course we’re talking about Gardeners’ World sex siren, Monty Don.

Monty might be an OAP but that doesn’t mean mum-of-two Hannah Verdier from south London, would dismiss him.

On the contrary, writer Hannah, who’s in a relationship, admitted she’d ‘jump into bed’ with him’. 

Now the mediocre-gardener shares her lust-filled fantasy with Fabulous: 

I don't know my amaryllis from my elderflower, but on a quiet Friday night I like to indulge my passion for Gardeners’ World. 

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Okay,  so I’m usually more likely tending to my Shellac than my sunken beds, but it’s the sexiest half-hour of telly each week – all thanks to that primrose-loving posho. 

He’s harvesting his spuds this week and my series link is primed and ready.

Gardening has long been a saucy profession, as the shirt-avoidant Jesse Metcalfe proved in Desperate Housewives, but my lust for Monty goes deeper than that. When I hear that Gardeners’ World theme tune, I can hardly contain my enthusiasm. Well, who doesn’t love a man who’s so good with his sexy, calloused hands?

I know I’m not alone, because Woman’s Hour listeners and Heat readers have also listed The Don as their weird crush. 

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But he’s not a guilty pleasure for me. Sure, at 68 he’s well into the silver fox territory, but no-one laughs at you for fancying Kevin Costner or Denzel Washington and they’re the same age. 

With his calming ways and gentle voice, getting close to Monty is the amateur gardener’s fantasy.

In a TV landscape dominated by topless and hairless Love Island boys, The Don doesn’t need to whip his shirt off to make me want to tidy up my bush. 

Less is more with him, and he makes a jaunty scarf do the work that no amount of waxing and fake tan could. 

He’d never remove too many layers, not even on World Naked Gardening Day (it’s coming up on May 4 next year just in case he’s tempted.) 

It’s far better to imagine what lurks beneath the corduroy trousers.

Although Monty’s charms are undeniable, this isn’t just some kind of shallow crush based on looks. 

At 50, he could be my dad (if he’d had me when I was young). 

His other greatest assets are his calming voice, pruning prowess and kindness to dogs (the dapper Dogfather Graeme Hall is my other celebrity lust object de jour.)

And yes, I know Monty’s married because he got told off for using his wife’s bowls for his mulch. But I would get my best crockery out for him. Monty, all I want is one afternoon where you rewild my neglected patch.

My wildest fantasy is that Monty Don mows my lawn. Front and back. 

And that’s not just because I’m too lazy to do it myself. (Although I’d have no objections if he wanted to spruce up the borders and put the bins out too.) 

When he endorsed No Mow May, it cemented his place as my kind of man – he’d be happy for his woman to recline and relax rather than fuss over her strimmer.

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Other women might be tempted by that hot plant geek Michael Perry or even the classic charms of Alan Titchmarsh, but Monty’s the only man I’d like to get my rampant hotlips (that’s my blooming salvia before you get any ideas) around. 

What I wouldn’t do to get those green fingers on my lobelia: he’s practical, he’s hot and he can even rock a hat.