We Are The Champions!Fed up with the world cup before it's even started? Sick of listening to your brother whinging on about a flat back-fours (or summat)? Well, huff no more! Smash hits proudly presents the real highlight of this years sporting calendar - the 5ive Olympics!
There's an air of calm in the 5ive camp as Scott, J, Rich, Abs and Sean chill out in the huge studio where today's photoshoot is taking place. They lounge around on comfy blue sofas and help themselves to a huge selection of crisps and chocolate. But undereath their cool facade, the pressure is rising as each feisty fella prepares himself for the battle of all battles - the prestigious 5ive Olympics! Band mates or not, it's every pop star for himself.
Forget the world cup - this is where the real action is. Over the next few hours, these pop competitors will go head-to-head in such prestigious events as (cue drum roll!)...The sack race! (Cue trumpets!) Arm wrestling! And (cue fanfare!) Olympic cracker eating! It's edge-of-your-seat stuff and each 5ivester is raring to slam-dunk his opponents into the ground
J kicks off the squabbling. "I'm really competitive and I'm gonna win everything!" he boasts, strutting around and waving his fists in the air. Sean glares at him menacingly and announces that he's very excited about the prospect of whipping J's ass at Twister. "I'm well god at Twister," he smiles confidently, "and I'm going home with the medal!" The look in J's eyes says "This is war!" Let battle commence!
Aim: To reach the finishing line first by jumping up and down in a sack
The group are asked to take their places and prepare for the sack race Deep breaths are taken and the boys rush forward in an attempt to nab the best sack. But someone's missing, and after a quick search J is located behind some curtains, trimming his beard! After what seems like an eternity he's finished. But there's no point in the lads getting excited just yet - J still has to iron his trousers! Everyone's suspicious that he's using his trousers as an cunning ploy to get in some early practice for the shirtironing contest. And J is none-too-pleased when Rich accuses him of cheating. "I'm not cheating!" he booms in an angry fashion. "I've got to iron my trousers so I look nice for the photos, haven't I?" Rich laughs, and the realisation hits J that it's hard to look tough when you're standing in your boxer shorts with an iron in your han!
Ages later, the chaps are finally lined up and ready to jump their way to glory! "I want a nice clean fight!" warns their tour manager. On your mark, get set... and they're off! Jumping freakishly high and howling like a pack of wolves, they race to the finish where they collapse in a giggling heap. And the winner is... Sean! He gives the others a smug grin and stands up to collect his medal. Sadly, Sean's cool performance is ruined when he almost falls over while climbing out of his sack!
Aim: To lock hands with your opponent and force his knuckles to touch the floor.
The arm wrestling match is next, and whoever wins the heats must take on the mighty weight-trainer J in the final! Abs and Rich kicks off the first heat by banging their fists together in a bad-boy fashion, and as they position themselves on the floor both fellas are wearing looks of determination. After much grunting, Rich's muscles win out. But rather than basking in his glory, the poor blokr has to leap to his feet - he's developed cramp in his bum!
Sean and Scott are up next, and within seconds of clasping hands they both go red and sweaty. But the heat is over as quickly as it began when Scott cheats. using both hands. He's disqualified and skulks of to sulk.
"Come on, let's 'ave ya!" Sean shouts to Rich as the third heat begins. After a long fight, Rich overpowers Sean and pronounced the winner. "But Rich had his arm off the floor!" Sean protests. Bad losers, eh?
So it's Rich and J in the final. As they square up to one another, J gives Rich a warning. "I'm not letting you win," he jeers. Sadly, Rich soon realises that while he may have a winning smile, but he doesn't have a winning arm. It's J who triumphs and walk away with the medal, grinning like a five-year-old.
Aim: To iron a shirt perfectly.
"J's ever so good at ironing," 5ive's press officer confides. Judging by his crisply-ironed trews, she's right. Rich is keen to be included in the praise and proudly tells the Hits, "I'm a good ironer too! J and I do all the ironing at home!" He leans a little closer and whispers in our ear, "Will you fix it fot me to win the ironing because J won the arm wrestling? I really wanna win something."
We're having none of it, and send him off with a slapped wrist to face his challenge. Sean is already out of the running due to the 'Which way does it go?' look he adopts on meeting the iron. And Abs has no idea what he's doing as he wrestles to fit the shirt over the ironing board. Scott's given up before he's even started, so Rich and J go head-to-head. The tension rises, and as J glides the iron gracefully over the shirt cuffs, Rich looks enviously. Then it's hiss turn to hit the board, and he manoeuvres the iron around the shirt like a pro, paying particular attention to the collar. Top job!
After a quick inspection, the result is announced. Luckily, after Rich's initial attempts to cheat, he's won fairly. He looks delited when he's told the news and displays his gleaming teeth in gratitude as he cuddles his medal!
Aim: To shovel down as many dry crackers as you can in 30 secinds!
Scott proves himself to be the bravest of all the Olynpians when he offers to go first, but it's not long before he's begging for water. Still, he does manage to swallow an impressive four-and-a-half crackers before admitting defeat and throwing the rest in the bin!
J's next and looks completely horrified after just one bite. 'Euuurrggh!' he whinges, 'I can't do it!' Wimp.
Sean swaggers into position with all the confidence of a man who's used to swallowing packets of crackers whole. But two crackers later, he's running around the studio like a headless chicken searching for a bin to spit them out into! Abs, obviously concerned about his lack of medals, shovels handfuls of the crispy numbers into his gob before realising that it may be easy to cram them all in, but it's quite another thing to swallow them all. Tragically he's forced to follow Sean's lead and spit them into the bin.
Rich finishes off the round as Scott looks excitedly, knowing that if Rich doesn't beat his score he walks away with a shiny round award. Rich gets off to a good start, but is disqualified when he reaches for a carton of Ribena and gulps it down with the gusto of a gasping camel.
'I won! I won!' Scott screeches, jumping up and down, 'That means I'm the king of the crackers!' Or maybe just plain crackers, eh?
Aim: To manoeuvre yourself around the Twister board without falling over.
This is the fifth and final event, and Abs is feeling the strain of being the only medal-less 5ivester.. Being a determined chap, however, he's not about to give up.
Everyone gets off to a good start, but it's not long before the bickering begins. 'You're putting your arm there on purpose!' Sean whinges to Rich. 'I'm not! Scott's got his leg in the way!' Rich pouts back. He pouts even more when he's out of the game. But strangely, when Scott is pronounced 'out' two minutes later, he looks relieved! Suddenly, J starts giggling nervously. 'My hands keep sweating,' he grimaces as he balances on one leg. 'I don't like this!' Abs wibbles as he attempts to to swing his leg onto a blue circle. They needn't worry - it's Sean who's out next, leaving Abs and J trying to knock each other over. It's nail-biting finale. Will Abs win the medal he so desires? Or will J waltz off with two, making him the overall Olympic champion? There can only be one winner and as Abs'
leg gives way and he tumbles to the floor, an emotional J realises he' the champ!
J gets to his feet and walks around, then turns to face the fellas he once called friends. 'I'm the grand winner!' he booms. 'Show-off,' Abs mutters, crossing his arms as the others follow suit. Well, you know what they say - it's not the winning that matters, it's the taking part. Right lads? Lads?
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