Thoughts on fitness via a tenuous link to the all new Gladiators

Look at these slabs of meaty morons. They’re all thick-skulled towering tributes to idiocy. They’re hyperreal wandering tits on legs with thigh muscles so big that it makes their barely existing genitals bleed when they walk to the locker room for a cretin pill.

They are, of course, the baddies in preposterous Running Man television show, Gladiators (Sky Three).

We currently live in a time when people who go to the gym are regarded to be better humans. Being fitter, apparently, equates to more happiness. Of course, deep down, we all know that this is not even close to the truth. No-one ever looked at a treadmill and tittered “Oooh! I know I shouldn’t! It’s ever so naughty! Perhaps I’ll just do ten minutes on it!” unless they were condemnably stupid. No, nice things are cakes, beer and having a shit in an empty house with the bathroom door open.

These hulking temples of exercise stomp around our world with their scant thoughts, all which revolve around; Must exercise more and, People wished they looked more like me.

And people do wish they looked more like these bodybuilders. That’s because most people are so spectacularly stupid that they think that people who go to a gym are better humans. What these shaved hairless simians don’t realise is that absolutely anyone with a remotely able body is able to go to a gym and produce the same horrific, characterless look.

Of course, it’s not very nice to attack them in this way, but it’s okay… but the chances of them being able to read are so slim that I feel rather safe. Go on, knock yourself out… have a good laugh at their expense.

You see, all these people are good for is competing. As yet, no-one has come up with a good way of competitive reading. If these mottled corned beef factories bothered to learn how to read, they wouldn’t soak up the prose, but rather, challenge you to a game of ‘Who Can Read The Fastest?’

As such, they are left with their freakish shoulders, tiny pin-heads and mystifying pectoquadradoodaas whilst they haul their walking CVs to various attention-seeking endeavours like Mr Universe competitions or a chance to be on Gladiators.

Those with mountainous fool glands get a regular gig on the show, whilst the rest scurry around like bottom feeders trying to contest their strength and speed against them on television shows. The result is a bunch of happy, clever people sat at home with nine Hob Nobs hanging out of their gobs trying not to laugh as the stupid people run around great exploding arenas in tasks so dizzyingly pointless that they may as well film someone trying to tie sperm together with their bare-hands.

Yet Gladiators is an incredibly important programme. That’s because it’s a peer into a horrifying future. It shows us what the zoo of the future might look like. Whilst us ‘readers’ will all be vegetables with brains the size of upturned armchairs, the rest will all be sent into these great halls to scurry around on super-advanced tyres-on-rope.

This outcome can be avoided, but the chances of it are unlikely as the human race is in such a malaise that we can’t be bothered to do anything about this clear warning sign. Which is why I smoke like a trooper, eat nothing but salt and handfuls of cooking fat and desperately try to end my own life before this whole shithouse starts to topple into itself…

…and I’ve got Gladiators to thank.

About the author

I'm Mof Gimmers.

I've been writing about TV for a long time. I love it and loathe it in equal measures. I'm pretty sure the TV feels the same away about me too.
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