When Gladiators is filming at Sheffield Arena, it feels like everyone is in on the joke. The woman at the ticket office looks at me seriously. “Before I give you these,” she says, “I need to ask a question. These are very good tickets. You’re in the camera block, near the red contestant’s friends and family. So there’s something I need to know. If the camera is on you, are you going to duck and hide and get all embarrassed? Or are you going to go absolutely flipping mental?”
I’d stayed up until the early hours painting portraits of my favorite Gladiators, hoping exactly for a chance to get on TV. Of course I’m going to go absolutely flipping mental! I’ve been waiting for this day since 1992.
That was when Gladiators muscled its way into the Saturday night viewing schedule of every kid in Britain. It was a copy of an American game show that pitted superhuman bodybuilders with silly names against fitness enthusiasts with ordinary jobs. You’d have Saracen using a pugil stick to batter Colin, a painter and decorator from Runcorn; or Lightning chasing Suzie, a dinner lady from Woking, up a climbing wall. It was an immediate playground sensation, spawning catchphrases that are etched indelibly on the memory of every ’90s kid. Shout “Contenders, ready!” in a Scottish accent to any of my contemporaries, and they’ll reply “Gladiators, ready!” faster than they can remember their own children’s birthdays.
The boys had posters of Jet, the buxom brunette, on their walls. The girls fancied Hunter, a blond with pecs the size of car tires. Everyone pretended to hate Wolf, the show’s resident villain and theatrical bad loser, who would sometimes be awarded yellow cards for unsportsmanlike behavior—one of which he once gobbled up in protest.
You could watch it with your mum and dad without it being embarrassing. You could recreate it in PE when your teacher wasn’t looking. Wolf aside, it was an hour-long lesson in fair play, where the strongest man or woman always won in the end—in a nail-biting finale known as the Eliminator, which involved a scrambling net, a zip wire, and the fearsome 45-degree Travelator.
Yet when the BBC brought back Gladiators in 2024, the decision was greeted with derision, seen as proof that our public broadcaster had run out of ideas. Alex Mahon, then chief executive of Channel 4, singled it out as exactly the sort of thing the BBC shouldn’t be making. But as soon as the titles rolled and everyone over 35 realized they could still remember the lyrics of the theme tune—”Do you have the speed, the strength, the heart to be a winner? It’s not for beginners”—it was a hit.
Almost nine million people watched the first episode. It vastly overperformed among young people, none of whom were born when the original Gladiators went off air in the year 2000. It’s that rarest of things: a show the whole family can watch together. A slice of silliness in scary times. With the third series about to air, BBC executives will be hoping the Gladiators can unite the nation, shouting at their TVs like they did when Nick Mohammed failed to pick Alan Carr as a traitor last autumn.
Thirty-three years after I first booed Wolf in front of a TV dinner, I’m sitting in the third row of Sheffield Arena waving a foam finger as a contestant crashes to the mat while “Another One Bites the Dust” booms from the PA. And they say dreams don’t come true.
I’d gone so mad making posters, I even had one that read simply “CLATTENBURG” in honor of Mark Clattenburg, the former bad boy of football refereeing who adjudicates in the reboot. I wave it manically in his direction, and my friend Danik…My friend and I burst into schoolgirl giggles when he notices it and forms a heart with his thumbs and forefingers. We both squeal when he first booms the immortal words, “Contender, you will go on my first whistle…”
Four months later, I’m in a photo studio in Salford being lifted into the air by five Gladiators. Hammer has my feet, Apollo my thighs, Nitro my bottom, Cyclone my shoulders, and Dynamite is complaining there’s nothing left of me to hold but my head. Nitro, the eldest of the group at 37, takes charge of art direction. “Extend your arm out like Cleopatra,” he instructs. I’m trying to breathe in while enjoying the moment, but Hammer keeps calling me Thunder—he had asked me just beforehand what my Gladiator name would be—and I’m struggling to keep a straight face.
It’s all part of my mission to discover why Gladiators has recaptured the nation’s heart and recreated the magic for a whole new generation. And if that means they have to pick me up so I can test their strength, well, I’m here to serve.
Soon I’m sitting on a sofa with Apollo, all 6ft 6in of him squeezed into his red and blue unitard. With his floppy hair and smooth skin, Apollo looks as if he’s aged out of a boyband, though he is in fact a former England rugby player and American football tight end. There’s a touch of Alan Partridge to Apollo, whose real name is Alex Gray. I ask how old he is and he says, “I’ve been 29 for the past five years.” His persona is that of a nice guy with an arrogant edge. He recites poetry between challenges (self-penned, he assures me—”The new Shakespeare, they’re saying”) and pretends everyone fancies him.
I ask him to introduce himself for the tape. He replies in verse: “I am the man of the hour, a guy too sweet to be sour, who guys want to be mates with, and girls want to go on dates with.” Guys don’t just want to be mates with you, Apollo! You’re a gay icon, I say. “Guilty,” he replies. “I’ve got a lot of love from all sorts of different diverse communities, which has been fantastic. The gays, the mums, the teenage girls.”
So, then, Apollo, are you single? As the words come out of my mouth, I realise I sound a bit like a pervert. I plough on regardless. Is he on the celebrity dating app, Raya? He laughs and dodges the question. “I’m gonna be honest with you, I’ve probably never been more wanted in my life, but I’ve never been more cautious. There’s a responsibility that comes with being a Gladiator and I don’t take it lightly. You know, I love playing up to the myth of Apollo, but at the same time I wanna be a decent person, and when I’m not on the show, I like to keep out of trouble as much as I can.”
After Gregg Wallace-gate and various Strictly scandals, the BBC cannot afford any whiff of controversy around another prime-time show. That’s why the Gladiators are drug tested each season. Giant, a man mountain with a ridiculous triangular torso, had to apologise last year when a video emerged of him seemingly posting about taking steroids in his pre-Gladiator life as a bodybuilder (“Take this and you’ll get big,” he allegedly promised). He was supposed to be at the shoot but is too busy appearing in panto in Chesterfield (he’s in Jack and the Beanstalk, playing… the giant, of course).
You won’t catch the Gladiators falling out of nightclubs either, or falling prey to kiss-and-tells. Hammer—another 6ft 6-er, a champion indoor rower called Tom Wilson—looks like a bHe’s quite the lad, though I know full well he’s engaged because his fiancée was sitting behind me at the Arena, where she politely but firmly refused to tell me whether Gladiators take out the trash. I tell him I like to imagine him out on the town with Giant and Bionic—yet another 6ft 6in monolith with bleached blond hair like a young Gary Barlow. He insists that simply doesn’t happen. “No, not at all. We like to just keep fit and stay away from anything like that really, because it affects your sleep, it affects your recovery, and I think it’s important just to be super fit, super recovered, and super rested,” he says.
Part of Gladiators’ success is its appeal to both young and old. Apollo pitches his lines at the adults in the audience, like when he fishes a mobile phone out of his Lycra in season two and seems to take a call after being beaten on the climbing wall. “Your mum says hello,” he shouts up to the victorious contender. He lets me in on a secret: he hadn’t had the phone on him the whole time. “As you can see,” he says, gesturing to his hot pants and making me blush, “there’s not enough room.”
Each of the 18 Gladiators has a slightly different outfit to showcase their special powers or, in Nitro’s case with his scoop-necked number, his outrageous pecs. Five outfits are made for each character each season, and they are not allowed to keep them when they’re off duty. “They don’t trust me ’cause they know I would go down to the shops in it,” Apollo says.
Hammer is the only one who has a prop (it’s a hammer). He feigns outrage when I suggest he’s only pretending it’s heavy. “When you’re swinging that around, you sure know about it,” he insists. I’m disappointed the hammer hasn’t made it to the photoshoot, but the PR says that would have been her job—”and it’s 15kg, that thing.” Hammer is the Viking of the group, with long dark locks that I’d heard were bulked out with hair extensions. He’s having none of it. “This is all mine,” he says, gesturing to the man bun he wears when he’s not in character. Up close, I do detect a touch of Just For Men in his beard, though.
The modern-day Gladiators make most of their money now as social media influencers, but 22-year-old Dynamite—CrossFit and weightlifting champion Emily Steel—is hoping for at least a side hustle in music. During the shoot, she’s writing lyrics for a duet with Apollo, who will apparently be contributing his poetry to the verses. Some of the original ’90s Gladiators are still profiting from the show. Fabio, the Guardian photographer, tells me that this year alone he’s done two shoots with Wolf for a German garage door company. Others have gone in an entirely different direction: Hunter is now a gong bath healer.
It was the show’s producers who came up with the Gladiator characters, then cast them afterwards. Resident baddie Legend, aka fitness influencer Matt Morsia, didn’t have to work hard to behave like an arrogant show-off. He vies with Viper—former model Quang Luong—as the reboot’s Wolf. When I watch the show in Sheffield, little children scream with equal terror and delight as Viper—who growls instead of speaks—rampages through the stands to rip up their posters.
“The biggest pat on the back we get is when families say, ‘You’ve brought us back together.’ It feels like I’m playing for England,” says Nitro—former champion sprinter Harry Aikines-Aryeetey, who is probably the most famous of the current crop after his appearance on this year’s Strictly. He recalls walking through a supermarket and being stopped by a little girl and her dad. “I said, ‘Who’s…'””Who’s your favorite Gladiator?” The girl stopped and gave me a deep stare, then said, “Viper.” I asked why, and she replied, “Because he’s naughty!” I thought to myself that she might have a few red flags in her future. But, you know, if she likes him, she likes him. She was just a sweet little five-year-old, dressed in a pink dress.
Last year, the producers decided they needed a female Gladiator with a dark side. The other women tend to play nice and congratulate contenders who beat them, which sets a good example but can get a bit dull. Bad losers are far more entertaining. Enter Cyclone, 24-year-old Irish powerlifter Lystus Ebosele, who looks like she wants to rip contestants’ heads off. I love watching big, strong women, especially at a time when so many women in the public eye seem to be shrinking. It’s refreshing to hear the 5’10” Cyclone say she loves “taking up space” and eats as much as she can before filming “so I can be massive.”
I’m fascinated by the Gladiators’ diets. Hammer starts his day with six eggs and “a bucket of porridge,” and goes through a kilo of rice daily, along with three or four chicken breasts—his goal is to consume 750g of protein each day. When they go out for dinner in Sheffield, it’s chaos because so many of the Gladiators order two pizzas each. The whole time I interviewed Nitro, he was stuffing Haribo into his mouth.
Dynamite was the first to arrive at the shoot, bursting through the door asking what was for lunch (it was 11 a.m.). “I don’t want to be really skinny and break every time I get tackled in Powerball. I want to be able to absolutely plough through contenders,” she said.
I’ve always wondered whether the Gladiators are actually trying their hardest, especially in events like the Gauntlet, where contenders have to run through a corridor of huge Gladiators wielding ramrods and power pads, or Powerball, where Gladiators rugby-tackle contenders to stop them from scoring. Some contenders are tiny. Size isn’t everything, Hammer says. “I’m always trying. They’re tricky sometimes, though. You’ve got to watch them—they can turn real quick. We’re massive, so we can’t turn as fast. But I’m not going easy on anyone.”
At the filming in Sheffield, I bumped into Aneila Afsar, who came second in series two, and asked her if she felt the Gladiators were always giving 100%. For some games, yes, she said, like Unleash, where a Gladiator chases a contender around an assault course. “But honestly, for things like Powerball, some of us would get flattened if they were really going all out. I mean, you’ve got people like Fury, who played rugby for England, and Cyclone. I was one of the smaller contenders. If I’d been hit at full force, I probably wouldn’t have lasted long. You’d have injured contestants left, right, and center, wouldn’t you?”
Getting injured is an occupational hazard for the Gladiators, too. By the time the upcoming series wrapped, Legend, Athena, Diamond, and Bionic were all either on crutches or wearing slings. If any of those are your favorites, don’t worry—they’ll all appear throughout the series, just not necessarily in Lycra. At the taping we watched, Legend was sitting in the stands, disguised as his own biggest fan for a sketch involving children.It had me in hysterics. Afsar was the first hijabi to ever take part in the show. I love the diversity of the Gladiators. Athena, the powerlifter Karenjeet Kaur Bains, is Sikh. Fury is deaf. Viper is Chinese. Sabre is Scottish. There’s a Gladiator for everyone—except, perhaps, the Welsh. Families of every background fill the stands. There’s a timeless quality to the spectacle. Moms embarrass themselves with lusty pleas on their posters (“You can spook me any time, Phantom!”), while children scramble to catch T-shirts fired into the crowd with a cannon. If you’re ever considering attending a Gladiators filming, I should warn you—it’s an 11-hour day. But what a day it is. They let you bring a picnic, and they only close the bar right before the final Eliminator event.
Bringing joy to all generations is the best part, says Apollo. “The biggest compliment we get is when families tell us, ‘You’ve brought us back together… My kids didn’t want to watch anything with us before—they were always on PlayStation or YouTube—but this is the only show they’ll sit down and watch with us.’ Honestly, it’s amazing. It almost feels like I’m playing for England; it’s the people’s show.”
For me, Gladiators is the perfect antidote to a cruel and senseless world. After 20 years as a reporter, I’ve spent too much time in the darkness. Bring on the sparkle! Bring on the spandex! Bring on a gigantic Gladiator who can scoop me up and cradle me like a baby! I’ll paint you a poster if you give me a heart sign.
Frequently Asked Questions
Of course Here is a list of FAQs about Bring me a huge Gladiator who can hold me like a baby a look behind the scenes of TVs most joyful show
General Beginner Questions
Q What is this show actually about
A Its a behindthescenes documentary special about the hit TV show Gladiators focusing on the fun heartwarming and human moments that happen offcamera
Q Is this a new season of Gladiators
A No its not a new competition season Its a separate oneoff special that shows what goes on behind the scenes of making the main show
Q Where can I watch it
A It aired on the same network as Gladiators Check the networks streaming service or ondemand platform for availability
Q What does the quirky title mean
A The title is a playful direct quote likely from a contestant or host It captures the shows overthetop joyful and slightly absurd spiritasking a giant muscular Gladiator for a cuddle instead of a challenge
BehindtheScenes Content
Q What kind of behindthescenes stuff will I see
A Youll see Gladiators and contestants preparing joking around and interacting when theyre not in the arena Expect bloopers emotional moments and insights into the friendships and camaraderie
Q Will it show how the games and stunts are made safe
A Yes it likely includes segments on the rigorous training safety protocols and the work of the referees and medical team to ensure everyone has fun safely
Q Do we learn about the Gladiators real personalities
A Absolutely Thats a major focus Youll see them out of character sharing their motivations nerves and what its like to become a TV icon
Q Are the contestants featured as well
A Yes the special highlights the contestants journeys their reactions to meeting the Gladiators and their experiences beyond just the competition
For Superfans Advanced Questions
Q Does this special reveal any secrets about the production
A It might show how certain camera angles are achieved how the iconic lighting
