Box, frocks and rocks

Box

If, like me, you spent the best part of your pre-pubescent years running up slides the wrong way, you’ll doubtless be thrilled to discover that 90’s teatime-telly staple Gladiators is back. Due to start on Sky (Bye-bye Virgin Media...) in May, as well as twelve brand-spanking new gladiators to battle it out with the contestants round by round, the show will hopefully still feature favourite games such as “Hang Tough” and the final “Eliminator” round.

In case you missed the show the first time round, it was, of course, the “Travellator” component of the eliminator round that explains my youthful fixation with slide-clambering.  Anyway, while this new reincarnation might not have me abusing play-parks fixtures, I can’t help but think it’s a bloody good thing nonetheless. For too long our screens have served as a mirror for our collective body-image crisis. This is epitomized in “Supersize vs. Superskinny” (Channel 4, Tuesdays) which is practically porn for the eating-disordered, so it’ll make a refreshing change to have some good old-fashioned rigorous physical competition on the box. After all what could be more wholesome and straightforward than lycra-clad folk bashing each other about the head with giant ear-cleaners?

Frocks

There are few things as frightening as Fallowfield Sainsbury’s on a Sunday morning. Aside from the horrendous queues and hoards of students fighting over the last loaf of bread and copy of The Observer, you find yourself confronted by an alarming phenomenon: the Owens Park alpha-female. These curious creatures wander the aisles in packs (without exception) dressed in, wait for it, their pyjama bottoms and an obligatory full-face of make-up. My question is, just who do these braying and giggling gaggles of girlies think they’re fooling? (Sleep) Suited and (Ugg) booted you might look bright-eyed and bushy (pony) tailed, but the PJs aren’t fooling anyone - we all know you didn’t roll out of bed looking like that, it’s taken you at least half an hour to apply that eye-liner. And don’t even get me started on the hair.

Rocks

Yoga! Now I know I’m jumping on the bendy-bandwagon about ten years too late and way after Geri Halliwell’s single-handedly massacred any modicum of credibility it might have once had, but it’s honestly amazing. Despite being a sometime hippy dippy veggie, I was never the most obvious yoga-bunny (it’s not really something that caught on at ASBO Village College). However, faced with the very real alternative of my head exploding this term, some gentle (hah!) stretching and toning seemed like a good idea. Naturally, as the old adage goes, there’s no zealot like a convert, and so I will be officially singing yoga’s praises for the next...ooh give or take 23 minutes? And as yet the only down-side is that I’m so spaced out post-salute-to-the-sun that I run the risk of walking in front of traffic. Or alternatively of becoming a very easy target for muggers....