"Welcome to I’m Spartacus”

Tell me you remember the film! You know, the one that’s always on at Christmas, with Kirk Douglas as the leader of a gang of slaves in ancient Rome who escape from their masters. Anyway, they form their own army, set their own rules and train very hard. Are you starting to get the picture? Or do you think I’m one can short of a six pack? What they never did was forget who they were, or where they had come from. They always knew how to have a laugh and drink all the wine they stole from the grumpy Romans. And once they there organised and trained they smashed everything the Romans put in front of them and freed lots more slaves along the way. Finally after they had been cheated and tricked they finally succumbed to overwhelming odds, and when the Romans said they would free the captured soldiers if only they turned over their leader, each one in turn stood up proclaimed that he was Spartacus. So what I’m really saying is, remember why we got organised, train for a purpose, don’t forget to have a laugh, always welcome and encourage new members, drink whatever takes your fancy and try and represent the club with pride.

I’ll go back to sniffing Jeff’s tube of Ibuleve Gel now!

I'm Spartacus!

Ahh…didn’t we look young! (Dimmo 1 1998)

‘The Peoples One’ (IS03)

Would you like to contribute to 'I'm Spartacus!' mouthpiece of the people and standard bearer of the free press? Then speak to Commissar XXXX or Comrade Editor XXXX (if he's ever around!). Only antagonistic, anti-establishment propaganda will be printed. (All reactionary, anti-revolutionary comments will be reported immediately to Chief Commissar Rainbow.)

Once more comrades, the mouthpiece of the masses speaks out wherever it sees injustice. 'I'm Spartacus!' always felt that the best way to change something was to infiltrate it, and change it from within. Not this time comrades. We must throw our heads back in contempt, and snort (heavily) at the accusations that we don't take things too seriously. So, 'I'm Spartacus!' says to the great imperialist power in the north of the county, just look what you've missed out on, and remember, envy is one of the seven deadly sins. Our revolution is here, you can't stop it, if you try we'll just go round you and find another vehicle to enlighten the masses that ours is the only true ideology; run, drink, laugh.

I'm Spartacus!

"It's no good being able to run, if you can't carry your shopping home"

Jeff

The ‘A Team’ (IS04)

In 1997 a crack circuit crew were court marshalled for a crime they didn’t commit, they promptly escaped the Notts AAA authorities and made their way to West Bridgford underground, if you have a problem, if you can find them, maybe you should join F1CC (the real A Team).

Rumours of the death of ‘I’m Spartacus’ have been grossly exaggerated.

The fact is, we’ve been doing some undercover work (not under the cover work, which is long overdue for several members of the crew) but finding out about the dark seedy (sometimes criminal) past of certain Circuit members. The rest of the time we’ve been in hiding, so deep in hiding that the editor Chris ‘Scoop’ Oxley has not been see since Dimmo’. Chris has taken the idea of ‘deep cover’ so literally no one actually knows where he is. I can confirm that the story that Holme Pierrepont had kidnapped him in a vain attempt to give them a personality has no basis in truth, like involving Oxley would make any difference. This issue we have our own brand of investigative journalists, who appear to be even farther from the truth than Roger Cook (allegedly). In the search for the truth no stone has bothered to be turned, and our guest reporters have spent literally minutes thinking up dirt on their teammates, they have blended into the urban jungle and in some case’s plumbed the depths, just for sheer pleasure. So if you feel that by the end of these pages your good name has been besmirched, don’t call Brief, (at £50 a hour) to defend your character, remember one of our many motto’s, Don’t get even, get mad!

I’m Spartacus!

Kirk Ireton 10k 2000 – never staged again after our Viking ‘down a pint’ escapades after the first lap!and it's one of the few days I've seen Jeff gag!

“The Few” (IS05)

In the summer of 1941 a battle raged over the skies of Britain. It was a titanic struggle between the vastly outnumbered forces of good, and the dark hordes of evil. The forces of good only had one or two “aces” that all summer long cut down the evil swarm with their superb performances.

Nearly sixty years on, and with a backdrop of the now infamous “Retford Address” (“they're shit they’ve only got that tall girl” anon.) once more the few must draw a line in the sand and say “no more!” to the forces of arrogance and ignorance ranged against them. We have no vast ‘hinterland’ of experience behind us in which to retreat. We must hold the line. There is only one degree of resistance, and that is to the last race, and to the last man (or woman, and lets face it they usually do better than the blokes!).

Stand up and be counted. Wear your colours with pride. Show the others what they are missing. We will fight them on the trails; we will fight them on the roads, never if the field of human competition has so much been owed, by so many, to so few.

I’m Spartacus!

“Innovate don’t imitate” (IS06)

No one expects to see an ‘I’m Spartacus!’. Our chief weapon is Innovation. Innovation and adaptability, these are our chief weapons. Innovation, adaptability and a sense of humour. These are our chief weapons.

Not by copying other people’s ideas (like the Japanese), making them smaller, better, and more commercial. Well, sometimes by copying other people’s ideas but by changing them just enough to keep the vultures of the legal profession off our backs. Remember, if we sell out any more Scoop will have to become full time male prostitute, I’m already a corporate whore. Avoid cheap, poor quality foreign imported ‘publications’ choose the original and still the best. Remember how much Hoover had to pay Dyson for stealing his idea (allegedly!).

I’m Spartacus!

‘The Seven steps to enlightenment’ (IS07)

"Master Tsu, how can I attain enlightenment?" "Pupil, to attain enlightenment you must first ascend the seven steps", "Only seven steps Master? Master Rainbow insists we do many steps" "Pupil, it is not the number of steps that is important, but how they link together".

"Step One is a solid base, without it, your tower will sink beneath the sands of time".

"Step Two must be increased gradually so it is able to take the weight of the other steps".

"Step Three must be made with a mixture of things, for variety is surely the key to success".

"Step Four will be built with fun, for enjoyment is surely on the path to enlightenment".

"Step Five will be very steep, and will carry you swiftly on your journey".

"Step six will always be against the clock, for it is with pain that we are cleansed and grow stronger".

"Step Seven will then be honed to a sharp point and will direct you to enlightenment".

"Thank you master, I now understand the journey can only be completed truly by completing each step." "One last lesson pupil, remember, man who travels on journeys of secret miles gains the legs of a Rooster". Perhaps this summer’s big hit will be not 'Crouching Andy, Hidden Sandom' but the 'the year of the Rooster'.

I’m Spartacus!

‘Nathan and the Drying Room’ (IS08)

Welcome one again to the magazine that makes the 'Sport' look like a broad sheet with serious editorial principles. Truth, lies, fact, fiction, scandal, lies, gossip, innuendo, lies are all contained in these pages and you won't have to look too hard to find them.

This month’s cover model and playmate is Mr Wolverhampton. I'm Spartacus has had to act on advisement from a top pair of spin doctors (Ms Moore and Mr Campbell) to suppress the going's on of this Ultimate Drink Challenger, Professional Gigolo, and West Midland Break dancing Champion. You will see more of him in the coming months (much more) unless large amounts of money are deposited in the form of strong continental lager to the editorial team!

Let’s face facts, some people make themselves as easy a target as a pile of rocks in Afghanistan, others, force us wriggle into the Tora Bora Caves of their past to get a clear shot at them. Some people leave themselves open, other are squeaky clean. As usual some people come off better than others do. You might say "That's not fair" and I'd say "Yep" but life's not fair otherwise beautiful people would be slow, stupid and boring!. If you want to make life fair, even the score. Write something about one of our whiter than white members and let the usual suspects sneak over the border for a while to regroup. The laser guided whit of 'I'm Spartacus' is waiting, but remember just like the Americans, we sometimes fire on our allies!

I'm Spartacus!

Go tell the Spartans! (IS09)

Just like JK Rowling shamelessly strip-mines the works of Tolkien (allegedly), 'I'm Spartacus' has trawled the ages to plagiarise the work, life, or speeches of a famous historical figure. The search has been long, as long as the journey of the one true ring, well since July anyway. This issue's open cast mine working is our tenuous similarities between the people involved in two famous battles between 470 - 480 BC involving the ancient Greeks.

The first is the battle of Marathon, well not so much the battle, but the never say die actions of Pheidippides the Greek solder who covered the 152 miles from Athens to Sparta in 36 hours. This begs the question "why the hell do we run 26.2 miles?" Now when he arrived at Sparta to ask for help they decided that they weren't going to send any troops. Much to the Spartans annoyance, the Athenians went on to beat back the nasty Persians lead by Darius II (later to also fail on pop idol) and be hailed as the saviours of all Greece

Now the Spartans were hard, they were as hard as a St Anns crack addict with a long bronze spear and you've just mine swept his pint. So this little set back was as embarrassing as well, say being accused of being a shandy drinking lightweight called Sandom. Ten years later they had their chance to outdo the Athenians when lots of Persians possibly half a million (this detail is not historically confirmed) landed. The Spartans hand picked 300 warriors and made probably the greatest stand in military history at Thermopelye. They held off the Persians for three days with only swords and spears as they thought bows and arrows were the weapons of women (their words not ours) and cowards. Their famous battle cry of "come on, du ya want some?" has travelled down through history (possibly). Even after they were all massacred they were

remembered as heroes as the war was eventually won and the Persians sent packing. Their motto was "Never surrender", no matter what the odds, don't get bullied by the big boys and it’s better to go down fighting than to give up without a fight. So be a Spartan, do as the Spartans did, make a stand and come out fighting (except for some of us who could come out fighting less) for the club against the big well established old world order.

I'm Spartacus!

The Missing One (IS10)

‘Lazarus’ (IS11)

“And above the tombstones strode a figure. And that figure was Lazarus. “ Lazarus! He that had died once before and yet risen."

“How long has he been missing”? “nearly two years now?”, then through a clearing in the bush that made Cambodia look like Kansas he was spotted, a shadowy figure in self imposed exile.

“Dr Spartacus I presume?” The masses asked “Yes” replied the stranger, “How did you get here” they asked, “I made it through the wilderness, somehow I made it through, didn’t know how lost I was until I found you.” “I was beat, incomplete, I’d been had, I was sad and blue”. “What have you been doing all this time?” “I’ve been on a quest hunting high and low for the missing WMB’s (where’s my beers) lost by Stevie B”

I’m Spartacus!

THE CURSE OF ZOLTAN (The Zoltan H.O.D. Project) – A short Story

With the light summer nights over and the vale of winter smothering the night, the dark shadow of a mystery beast begins to draw up to haunt the long night runs and circuits of members of the crew.

Stories of a great black hound roaming Colwick Woods have been as common as fisherman's tales amongst veteran club runners for many years.

Johnny Williamson is often heard to state “There’s something out there and it ain’t no man.” Veterans warn that anyone who is looked upon by the great slobbering beast (I don't mean Gutto!) is doomed to a season of mediocre times, run-of-the-mill performances and annoying groin strains.

Legend goes that the creature is traditionally sited most often between October and January, but sometimes it has been sited the week before the Robin Hood Marathon. With this backdrop I began my investigation.

My first task was to interview some of the most respected members of the veteran’s team, having not found any, I turned my attentions to the soon to be vets of Johnny and Rooster. Rooster issued a detailed statement via club solicitor Mr C. Webb-Jenkins.

Extracts read as follows “I am not prepared to comment on the existence of a creature. All I will say is, don’t enter Colwick Woods alone, at night.”

Johnny was more vocal. “It all started when Rooster and I were doing some secret miles.” “We got to Colwick Woods and the sun was rapidly setting.” “Rooster said, lets cut through the woods, it’s the quickest way back” “What about the stories I said” “You don’t believe that old clap trap do you?, are you a man, or a shandy drinking light weight.” “OK” I said, “lets go for it.”

The story now continues in Johnny’s own words.

As we started up the trail all was fine, Rooster was leading the way. The paths seemed unusually overgrown for the time of year. We passed a large tree in the base of the valley and went past the burnt out wreak of an XR2. “I’ve not seen that before” noted Rooster.

The two crew members carried on, up the hill, It was a starless night, the kind of inky black that makes everything seem fluid.

The two runners followed the path up the hill and through a copse. When the tree cover broke, Johnny stopped abruptly. “What the hell”. Both men stared in disbelief as they once again saw the burnt carcass of the XR2. “That’s impossible” said Rooster, “that’s behind us”. Just then they heard a blood curdling howl. “There’s something out there and it ain’t no man” said Johnny. Bracken twitched in the windless night air. “Run youth” shouted Rooster. Both men ran as though they needed to set “Tarka” free. Suddenly Rooster tripped on a tree root and crashed to the floor through a large bramble patch. Johnny helped him up, “not a scratch” Johnny whispered looking at Roo. “Thanks youth” said Rooster, “Anytime” replied Johnny. Suddenly Johnny froze, fixing his gaze on a gnarled thicket “I see you, in the tree’s”. “lets get the hell out of here” shouted Rooster. Eyes straining in the darkness, the two game runners searched for a path that wood lead them to safety.

Pausing for a moment, Rooster said, “what’s this story anyway?”, Johnny looked horrified, “you mean you don’t know?” “No, I was just wanting to get back”. Johnny began, “The tale began in the early 1970’s the government banned the keeping of wild animals, it was said that someone from Eastern Europe, Transylvania I think, released a puppy into the woods, everyone thought it would be dead within a week” “that doesn’t sound so bad” replied Rooster. “the man called it ‘Zoltan’ and said it was ‘special’, everyone forgot about it until a party of runners encountered something in the woods.” “who were they? Redhill?, Holme Pierrepont?” asked Rooster. “no” said Johnny, “green berets out of Fort Bragg”. “I knew Jim Harper, he was a good man” Johnny went on. “What happened?” ask a shocked Rooster. “they were never seen again”.

At that moment the two intrepid circuiteers looked at each other, “listen” said Rooster, “I can’t hear a thing” Johnny replied. “Exactly” Rooster said, “I’m not staying here to listen to your mumbo jumbo”. “move” yelled Johnny “but the only route out is past the old abandoned railway buildings” said Roo, “that’s a chance we’ll have to take”. The runners sprinted like Andy Silver’s one good effort each circuit. They could now smell the beast just behind them. Johnny pulled up, “what the hell are you doing” screamed Rooster. Johnny picked up a Newcastle Brown Ale bottle he had noticed on the floor, “Damn, you don’t get a deposit back on these, oh well” he then proceeded to sling the bottle into the night with devastating accuracy, the bottle hitting the pursuing beast, sending it off at a tangent. Both men paused, then Rooster noticed a patch of colour on a bush. “look John, It’s blood, you’ve hurt it”. “If it bleeds we can kill it” Johnny replied. They arrived at the old railway building, Rooster surveyed the surroundings. “We’ll never kill it, but we could lore it here and trap it in the cellar, look the stairs down are all rotten” “OK” said John, “I’ll get it here, you trap it” Johnny then proceed to look around exclaiming “excellent” when he saw a large patch of mud. “What’s your plan?” asked Roo, “well, I think it finds us from our body heat” as Johnny proceeded to strip off his Ron Hill top and cover himself with mud. “what the hell are you doing” asked Rooster, “I’m going to sneak up on it then wipe off all this cold mud and it will ‘sense’ my body heat” “well, I hope you know what your doing” “you just worry about getting it down there” said Johnny pointing into the abyss.

Moments back along the track, Johnny saw a dark silhouette, he began to feverishly wipe off the dark cold mud he had only recently wiped on, his plan was working, he had been undetected. As soon as two thirds of the mud was off Johnny shouted “over here, kill me” the beast of the night began to

move, Johnny ran for his life. He could now see the clearing and the open door of the old building. Feet away for the door, Rooster who was hidden from view screamed “get down” as the shape pounced, Johnny dropped like a stone, and ‘Zoltan’ went flying through the air into the open door and crashing into the cellar. Rooster slammed the door closed and exclaimed “superb youth, now lets get the hell out of here”. “Oh duck” exclaimed Johnny “it’s me hamstring”, “bloody hell John, injured again!”

The reporter who worked on this piece for “I’m Spartacus!” went back to confirm the details but has never been seen since, rumours of his Achilles Tendinitis, have never been proved. The transcript was found, in a jiffy bag, left anonymously at our offices.

Any similarity between the characters and members of F1 past present or future is purely intentional.

Bizarre Columns - Separated at birth!

Winston & Lord Gutto