


I was a right little twit in the early nineties, I remember going to the Squash club for lessons (already a terrible middle class atrocity) purposefully dressed as the Fonz, wearing one of my grandads old leather jackets, with a white t-shirt underneath. In my head I looked like a young James Dean. In reality I probably looked more like a sickly, Shakin Stevens obsessed Macauly Culkin.
I was also obsessed by Arcade video games, usually the type that had large plastic guns strapped to the front. I went on a sailing holiday in scotland with my parents, and wished every single moment of the holiday away, dying to reach the next mooring point in the vain hope there might be a machine in the rec room of whatever delapidated Sailing club we landed at. Beautiful rolling vistas? The thrill of the wind in your hair as you streak across the open waters? No way! Give me the chance to gaze at 'Operation Wolf', wishing I had the money to play it, any day!
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