Is SHE really going out with HIM?!” This is the sound of women reading gossip pages.

Oh how we love to catch up on the latest celebrity ‘news’, marvelling over an ill-matched pairing of a gorgeous nubile babe with a crusty, brushed with the ugly stick, usually older, celebrity bloke.

Do you remember when Pretty Woman actress Julia Roberts married Lyle Lovett, the famously pug-ugly country crooner?

Or when one of the world’s most beautiful women, Scarlett Johansson, dated craggy-faced Hollywood bad boy Sean Penn?

And how about when a saggy and middle-aged Michael Douglas snared Welsh wonder Catherine Zeta-Jones? Or that time wizened rock prune Mick Jagger had a dalliance with angelically plump beauty Sophie Dahl?

We love these stories. Oh, we tut and bitch, but really we think ‘hurrah!’ when the ugly chap gets the gal because it proves that it’s not just us ‘normal’ women who have dodgy crushes: superstar hot babes are at it too.

But why do we fancy not-obviously attractive men?

Blame nature.

Scientists reckon that being a bit ugly may actually make you more attractive to the opposite sex. After research at Oxford University, Prof Paul Rainey, concluded that: “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. If everyone is going after the most common characteristics, then someone who targets the rare ones would have an advantage.”

Women know this instinctively.

When I was young, a trillion years ago, I used to watch The Partridge Family, the US programme about the singing family fronted by the unbelievably hunksome stud muffin David Cassidy.

Did I fancy him? Of course not — my older, very pretty sister did, so clearly I would be wasting my time. Instead I opted for David’s younger brother Danny; he had flaming red hair, freckles, a plump body and a loud and annoying personality and I thought he was the bee’s knees. I also got Jimmy Osmond, while big sis got Donny.

Pop producers are making a big mistake making all the boys in boy bands handsome: One Direction would be even more popular with an ugly member. Look at Gary Barlow in Take That – he gave every fan hope.

My natural inclination to fancy the less-obvious male has stayed with me. Recent crushes have included Jeremy Paxman (big scary face, but so clever and bossy), Keith Richards (reptile-like, but a legend) and Danny DeVito (Hobbit-like but all-man).

Honestly if Danny DeVito and Brad Pitt went to war over me, I would have to go off into the sunset with Danny.

Brad seems nice and everything but he’s used to Angelina Jolie – if I woke up next to him, without make-up, puffy eyed, possibly dribbling, I just would not be comfortable.

Give me scruffy mini-man Danny any day.

Anyway, fancying someone properly gorgeous and rich probably isn’t good for real-life relationships. My bald, pot-bellied husband might feel undermined if I went around fantasising about Brad, comparing their six-packs and salary.

Whereas when I mention my thing for Danny DeVito he merely pats me on the head and looks at me in a fond but slightly pitying way.

Best not tell him about my Johnny Depp crush just yet…