With ute-loads of country bucks set to arrive for the Ekka, Chris Lee rounds up his top five sexy cowpokes of all time.

As a suburban boy on the rural fringe, born and raised on Queensland produce and prejudice, I often imagined myself with a horse out in a paddock, reminiscent of Jimmy Dean (my #5) in Giant.

It’s with this carefree (yet brooding) country spirit that I approach most of life’s challenges, including the inevitable country-themed Ekka Holiday dance parties.

If I were to saddle up for the challenge, it would be charging from the gate, in the proverbial spurs, chaps, saddles and roping supplies. Yee-haw! Giddy up now, or something.

But about those hot chaps with spurs ─ where are all the real cowboys when you need them? Was Hoedown really about getting down and dirty, or was it more denim and disco?

Riley, passionate about his horses, has been described as – “a loner who is reticent to put down roots”. Not wanting roots? Somehow, I don’t think this was going to help. And more importantly, Riley was a goner after a drive to the river to catch yabbies (4WD-ed to death after the last season finale cliffhanger, kids!)

It was a casual glance at my impressive country and western DVD collection that reminded me I had the bible of gay chaps-wearing at my fingertips, Brokeback Mountain.

Something about the sharing of a backbreaking load; the toil and troubles of faghaggotry (leave them to their repressed, fetishistic leather and cowhide urges please, ladies) and a whole lotta mumblin’ about sump’n’.

Jake (#3), who seems more into spooning than our Heath, makes the first move, and is soon organising secret men’s fishing trips, which don’t go exactly as planned.

Heath, struggling with the accent, and mindful he hasn’t much time before the obligatory gay nude scene, mumbles “Now hoooooold on thar, I'll do the horsey-ing around here”.

It was at that point I took note (we all did) of one naked ranch hand and aspiring rodeo rider getting jiggy with it in a running mountain stream.  I mean, you don’t have to drink right now, but you can dip your feet every once in a while, right, fellas?

It was on freeze-frame, that I remembered that I read somewhere that my Jake (darling of men-in-giant rabbit suits everywhere) used a body double for those jiggy bits. A fake Jake? Where was the carefree country spirit in this tale?

It was only when I went to ‘go take a slash’, as they say out bush, that I remembered hanging on the bathroom wall, my boyfriend’s 'League of their Own' calendar.  Adorning the cover was the many a gay-adored JT. That’s, Jonathan Thurston (#2), captain of the North Queensland Cowboys, posing with some (in)conveniently placed boating rope over his, er, tackle.

However, Rugby (League but not Union, I’m told by avid aficionados of the hot men of the code) was not invented in 1841 simply as an excuse for straight men to homoerotically grope each other.

Apparently, JT plays half-back -- and a few other much-dreamt about positions, I don’t think League-related. More recently, he was found drunk and helpless outside an apartment block (technically not ours, but between friends, I’ll neither confirm nor deny).

The truth is cowboys, like angels, are everywhere. Even our Hugh (#1) is all saddled up, after a bit of heavy petting (horses that is) in the soon-to-be released epic, Australia (‘Straaya if you’re doing the accent). From adamantium claws to castanets and maracas to pretending to snog an actress (Nicole) with a carefree (gay) drover’s spirit - if Hugh could do it, anyone can.

So come Ekka Tuesday, when you’re out toe-tapping and thigh-slapping, to a little bit of percussion accompaniment courtesy the Thunderpuss remix of Madonna’s 'Don’t Tell Me', remember your inner gay country spirit. Shake your (country and western) tassels. Find your own hot cowboy. Maybe even a fistful. 

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