In his autobiography, My Wicked, Wicked Ways, Flynn claimed that his life was dominated by what he called counterphobia - that he was frightened of everything so constantly put himself in danger in order to prove that he could keep himself safe. The sad lament of the thrill addict. No wonder he drank so much.

It must have also felt hypocritical for him, as a political leftie, Spanish Civil War volunteer, fan and friend of Fidel Castro and son of an Irish academic, to carve a career out of movies that upheld a tradition of Anglo-white-supremacist imperialism.

Flynn was definitely a beautiful looking man, but a bit too chiselled and androgynous for my taste. As classic swashbuckler heroes in tights go, Stewart Granger did it much better for me, and as for bad-behaving Hollywood boys of the Golden screen, Robert Mitchum was the thinking woman's macho par excellence.

Ooh. Anyone notice it's getting a little warm in here ...

Annoying isn't it! So handsome, so virile, so memorable and SO BAD! He lived fast and died young like so many modern pop stars. Old-fashioned films, anachronistic expressions, tights of all things, but we remember him. How did he do that? So many others with acting lessons, perfect teeth, contacts, and whatever else it ought to take, and they don't make it. It's a mystery. And having achieved it, he destroyed everything. Drank himself to death. What a great article you've written Simon Caterson. I enjoyed reading it. Errol Flynn's life is a fascinating subject.

Errol was never going to die wondering of what could have been.He lived life to his perception of what was the ultimate experience,but I've never heard a bad word about him achieving such success at the expense of his fellow human beings.