Glad of the Diversion

There are two types of people in Australia - those who say they watch Gladiators, and those who are lying.

Even the first time it was on, I could appreciate the sheer, joyful mindlessness of the thing. What could be better than watching grown adults with silly names, clad in lycra, whacking each other with giant bits of foam rubber and pretending to take the whole thing seriously? And this time around, it's even better, allowing for nostalgia since nothing has changed about the show. (If only they'd bring back Man Oh Man).

The thing is, I've always secretly fancied the idea of being a Gladiator. Once you've regained your composure after falling off your chair laughing, the idea isn't as far fetched as it might sound. For a start, everything on the Gladiators set is padded, which is more, regretfully, than you can say for the real world. There could be a sort of "Gladiators Lite" for the wet, weak and weedy, like me. The challenges could be based around modern difficulties for pasty chubby office workers...first to learn to cut corners using a new database, most pints drunk at lunctime, most tourists elbowed on the way out of the train. (Actually the challengers could pretend to be the tourists on the train). Rather than a little lycra bikini, I'd wear a tracksuit with a torn knee and beer stains. And I could have a tough Gladiator name...Stapler.

I'm off to practice my poses for the promotional posters in the mirror.

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