Viewers, ready? Lycra-clad freaks, ready?


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So, I’ve decided to give up watching trashy TV. It’s getting far too much, and even though I still follow politics and news and everything, I think it’s shrinking my brain. No more gossip blogs or trash TV.


I of course was glued to the screen on Sunday night for the premiere of the new series of Australian Gladiators!!! I was hoping it would evoke all kinds of happy 1995 memories… those sweet sweet days when one’s biggest worry was trying to figure out how to build a paper mache mask for a history assignment or something. Then getting your parents to do it instead…

Anyway, I was also particularly excited because Thunder, the king of the new crop of Gladiators, is actually a family friend of my parents. And I love some good name dropping. My parents are pretty well connected. Not only do they know Thunder, my mum’s friend’s cat is Cathy Freeman’s cat’s sister, my mum once beat Richard Roxborough in an Albury Public School talent show, my mum’s cousin had Princess Mary come to her wedding and vice versa, among other tenuous celeb connections. Who says country people are out of the social networking circle?

Anyway, the Glads. Raucous laughter ensued from the very beginning. The lame-o intro, the hilarity of the Gladiators strutting out and posing with their lame names and catch phrases, the lame ambitions of the lame competitors and their idle threats to whoop some silver lycra clad booty (can I just say, how unflattering were the costumes? Um hello costume department, the Glads don’t want their leotards riding up their ninnys when they have to do battle, ok? And saggy lycra looks good on nobody)

The old games were still the same, the hosts and ref were stilted and piss weak and the voiceover guy even seemed wobbly.

Thunder rocked with his hammed up “stormy” temperament. Amazon was hilariously “tough and mean”.

Quote of the night though went to the blue haired biatch Viper, who whooped some competitor ass and then hissed (complete with non threatening snake arm actions) “You have just been viperised!”. Hurrah! A new verb for the Noughties, almost as purposeful as “Googling” something.

“Would you like this email saved or viperised?”

“Go get viperised, you twit.”

“Saddam, can we viperise your weapons of mass destruction now? K, thanks.”


Let’s face it, nobody watches Gladiators for it to be “good”. Its appeal always lied in being cheesy and silly, just like B grade horror flicks like Attack of the Killer Tomatoes.

I think the fad will die fast though, and I don’t think Channel 7 will get another season out of the concept. Unless they jazz up the eliminator some more or something. Or, get every “celebrity” fool who has gone on Dancing with the Stars or It Takes Two to run the gauntlet, with the foam bat things replaced by chunks of wood full of rusty nails.

The next show they should revive though is Man O Man or It’s a Knockout!. Apparently, (and I found this out thanks to the Wikipedia prowess of one of my coworkers) the pool for Man O Man is still in the Channel 7 studios, under the set for Dancing with the Stars, and is still full of the water used for the show! Maybe we should start a petition to bring it back, since they still have the infrastructure and all…

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