Book twelve in the 'Asterix' series is a strong one that does exactly what its title suggests and has fun with the idea that you knew was going to get brought up before even opening the cover. Over eleven books, these indomitable Gauls have run rampant over everyone in the path because they have one powerful secret weapon: the magic potion that Getafix the druid brews up to make them invulnerable. The reason that the series is so much fun is because Goscinny and Uderzo do a good job at making them likeable underdogs anyway. But how's that going to play at the Olympics?

Well, as you can imagine from a series that uses the past to joke about the present, this turns into a riff on doping in sport. After all, how sporting is it for any Gaul to compete in the Olympics while under the influence of Getafix's magic potion? The ban on artificial stimulants prompts a rethink of everything that the Gauls are planning to do and for Asterix to figure out a way to win through application of wits rather than a sporting get-out-of-jail-free card. I loved this approach and I also loved what happens afterwards.

It doesn't hurt that there are wonderful puns on the very first page. The nearby Roman camp of Aquarium is buzzing with the news that one of their soldiers, Gluteus Maximus, has been selected to compete in the upcoming Olympic Games. Fellow soldier Bilius is acutely jealous but Centurion Gaius Veriambitius is over the moon. Unfortunately his morale soon plummets when he goes into the forest to train. He's the fastest sprinter in the world, but Obelix runs up beside him to ask him if he's being chased. He throws a branch like a javelin and someone throws a tree back at him. And, of course, when he challenges Obelix to a boxing or wrestling match, he gets thumped into a tree with a single punch.

And so the Gauls learn about the Olympics, which at this point still take place at Olympia, lasting for five days under a sacred truce. They promptly decide to enter the Olympics too, representing Gaul, only to find that only free Greeks and Romans are eligible to compete. I was already having fun with this book but the moment Asterix figures out the solution to that problem elevated it to higher levels still. "But, by Toutatis," he points out to Chief Vitalstatistix, "we ARE Romans!" The whole country's been conquered by Julius Caesar, so they're part of the Roman Empire, from the mindset of the Romans. Never mind that this one little village ignore that otherwise.

Suddenly, we're in entirely new territory and René Goscinny clearly had an absolute blast turning his own tropes on their head, starting with the village celebrating that they're Romans and Gaius Veriambitius borrowing a much-repeated line from Obelix: "These Romans are crazy!" Eventually, the Gaulish Olympic Committee decides to send Asterix and Obelix, safe in the knowledge that the magic potion will guarantee them success, and the tropes continue to be toppled. Of course, there are our favourite pirates but they can't attack because "boarding pirate vessels is not included in the fare" and they don't want to pay the surcharge. So the pirates sink themselves for even fewer reasons than usual.

It also helps that all the men of the village travel with our heroes in order to support them. Most, if not all, of these stories leave them at home, meaning that Asterix and Obelix have to carry the entire book, including puns, on their own backs. They've proven highly capable of doing that, with the aid of Getafix's magic potion, but this shift in approach means that all sorts of characters can back them up. We meet Geriatrix, the oldest man in the village, for the first time, or at least he's named for the first time. He walks with the aid of a cane, but is just as powerful as everyone else and even more fond of the ladies to boot.

Being in Greece means a whole new set of puns with a new linguistic convention. When they arrive in Piraeus, the harbour of Athens, they pick up a guide by the name of Diabetes and he introduces them to everyone they could possibly need, all of which are his cousins. There's Makalos, a money changer; Kudos, a chariot driver; Phallintodiseus (think about it), a hotel manager; and Thermos, who runs a restaurant. There's even Invinoveritas, an innkeeper, a pun created by the translators into English using a Latin phrase to appropriate name a Greek. That's meta.

There are all sorts of Olympic jokes, largely tied to the training, which is jeopardised by the Gauls bringing an army of boar to keep them sustained. The floating aroma from their camp throws off every training diet to be found anywhere in the Olympic village. The very demeanour of the Gauls demoralises the Romans, which promptly demoralises the Greeks, and the whole games is turning into a shambles until the artificial stimulant rule is made known and everything changes. Goscinny could easily have gone horribly wrong here but he finds a neat solution, pun not intended, and the whole thing romps home gloriously.

I had an absolute blast here on every front but I think what made this one work for me so well was the fact that the Romans are given more depth than usual. Typically, they serve the same role in 'Asterix' books that Imperial stormtroopers serve in 'Star Wars'. They're disposable enemies who we're against from moment one because they've conquered the land of our heroes, and they have little use except to provide wonderful opportunities for puns and become endless punching bags. Occasionally, a story will take our heroes deeper into Roman culture and history, especially when they visit Rome or get on Julius Caesar's nerves, but mostly it's just puns and punching bags. This time out, I actually had some sympathy for them, perhaps for the first time.

One final note is that both Goscinny and Uderzo make cameo appearances in this book, carved on the side of an arch on page 29 of my copy. It's easy to miss because this is in Athens, so the names underneath them are translated into Greek, as is their dialogue. Together they've subdued a bull and, standing either side of it, Goscinny apparently calls his artist a despot, while Uderzo calls his writer a tyrant. I guess the point is to suggest that creating one of this books is a substantial task worthy of an Olympian and that, however much fun it all works out in the end, it's always tough to get there. ~~ Hal C F Astell

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