YOUR city needs YOU!

The city in question is Eboracum and the Kitchener-like recruitment officer none other than our old friend Maximus Gluteus (or was it Minimus Peniculus?)... Keith Mulhearn.

Keith is York's one-man Roman army and he needs help. The bathhouse below the Roman Bath pub in St Sampson's Square won't run itself (bath - run itself... it's quality stuff this, you know).

Volunteers are required to staff the ancient attraction.

"There are some people in the city who are really interested in Romans," said Keith. "We just want a few friendly folk to spare us an hour here and there in the bathhouse."

You don't have to be a world expert on the Roman empire, but a little knowledge about straight roads and togas wouldn't come amiss.

Keith will provide crib sheets so the volunteers can answer visitors' questions about communal bathing.

Among Keith's fascinating facts is the revelation that slaves used to oil up the sweaty bodies of top Roman soldiers', then scrape the resulting gloop off their skin and sell it to women to dab behind their ears. Delightful.

The bathhouse is open from 10am to 4pm seven days a week, so any time you can give will make a big difference. Contact Keith on 07931 668935.

FROM Keith to another legendary man in a skirt, Brad Pitt. Women everywhere are trembling at the prospect of seeing pouting Brad pitted against the Homeric hordes in Troy, out at the flicks this week.

But this is not the first Hollywood blockbuster to tackle the legendary story.

A cutting from the Evening Press from 50 years ago - May 13, 1954 - reported on the making of Helen Of Troy.

Workers had spent five months recreating the ancient city of Troy on location near Rome, our correspondent wrote. And the entire set was on wheels.

The film, starring Rossana Podesta as Helen and Stanley Baker as a pre-Pitt Achilles, cost $6 million. That is about $41 million in today's money. Even so, the figure is dwarfed by the $200 million-plus lavished on Troy.

Helen Of Troy was not a critical success. "Dingy historical spectacular, stultifyingly boring until the final spectacle, with the actors obviously wishing themselves doing anything but mouthing the doggerel dialogue," says Halliwell's Film Guide.

Brad will be hoping for better reviews this week.

HE may only be a letter away from pop superstardom, but Yorkshire MEP David Bowe can't help ch ch ch ch changing his name.

The Labour man told the Evening Press how mischievous MEPs keep adding an 'i' to his surname, transforming him into the Thin White Duke of Brussels.

"We have our names on our office doors but the letters can be removed," explains David. "Some people have moved the 'i' from other doors and put it on mine to spell Bowie."

So goings on in the corridors of power are less than Hunky Dory - and it's clear the culprits are far from Absolute Beginners.

"Some joker does it every year. I've collected about four or five letters. They are sitting in my desk waiting to be returned to their rightful owners."

The name games may continue but David now hopes to have the last laugh... by being Starman in next month's Euro elections.

Updated: 10:59 Tuesday, May 18, 2004