Forget x-celebrity dancing on ice in the jungle – Gladiators is back!

Yes! The excessively muscley-thighed and mildly homoerotic Gladiators are coming back to Saturday nights once again to remind us all of the dangers of steroid abuse.

There was always something so very thrilling about the mid 90s Gladiators. Much like their namesakes the Roman Gladiators, the pink-lycra wearing UK versions were trained killers who fought wild beasts and Christian prisoners, spilling their blood for the baying crowds.

Except that for ‘trained killers’ read ‘failed athletes’, and for ‘wild beasts and Christian prisoners’ think ‘PE teachers’. But the blood bit is accurate – I’m sure that on at least one occasion a contestant accidentally got a nosebleed.

It’s no secret that the more ‘athletically-inclined’ (read: athletically-inclined) among us have always had a special fascination for watching strong women in leotards chase each other in giant hamster balls.

And while some of us were too young at the time to realise that our fierce passion for Jet perhaps went deeper than a mere admiration of her wall climbing skills, some lesbians definitely realised what was going on, and made the most of the opportunity to be grappled by wild-haired ex-gymnasts on national TV.

Remember how some contestants had their boyfriends or fiancées in the crowd, and sometimes we just saw their female ‘friends’ and then the camera would hastily move on? That, my friend, was ITV’s commitment to LGBT visibility.

But there was more to Gladiators than casual prejudice and running up cargo nets. The male Gladiator’s outfits for a start. Watching the reruns on Challenge recently I was hit by two thoughts:

Firstly, why the two-piece bikinis? Why are some Gladiators free to display their huge, shiny shaved chests, while others must cram their mighty man-breasts into tiny crop tops? Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, why were the men’s pants made of such uncomfortably tight lycra? (And that’s my comfort, by the way, not theirs.) There are real and undeniably bulging bulges going on which the camera seems to linger on rather more than is necessary for a teatime family show. And we haven’t even mentioned the troublingly sexist and racist elements to the Gladiator’s names.

But enough reminiscing, let’s take a look at the new breed of Gladiators, appearing on a Sky One-tuned telly near you soon!

Wow. So fierce, so mighty, so consistently passionate about lycra. But at least the colour scheme is a little less abrasive this time around.

Having carefully examined the photos of all 12 Gladiators, there are four Gladiators that catch my highly trained eye.

Atlas (left) is chosen for having forgotten which way round to put his leotard, and also for his unusual head to body proportions.

Atlas, by the way, is “as strong as He-Man, fights hard and with dignity.” But why is Atlas as strong as He-Man, and not as strong as Atlas? Since when has fighting a cartoon skeleton made you stronger than carrying the entire planet on your back?

For his gloriously stage-school costume and pose, I choose the “handsome, disciplined and brave… Will take on any army – the perfect warrior” Spartan (above, right).

Apologies in advance for only mentioning the female Gladiators in reference to their breasts, but for safety’s sake I hope Inferno (below, left) has an excellent sports bra. Just because she’s “hot, fiery, dangerous and destructive” doesn’t mean she shouldn’t get the comfort and support she needs.

And finally, we come to my favourite: Battleaxe (right) aka ‘Hypnoboob’.

Not only does she have the most unglamorous name, this “weapon of war, domineering, aggressive and indomitable… warrior queen” is given the most ridiculous costume and even does the silliest pose to top it off.

Hypnoboob you are the rubbishest, and we love you. May your hypnotic breasts confuse and disorientate all those who yearn for the crowd-roaring glory of being first to jump through a paper sheet!