Got yer receipt there?

Posted at 21:38
Now featuring on and discussed via the Destructoid community blogs

Paper is a fantastic invention. Paper is used in books, bags and boxes. Paper is used for art. Paper is money. Paper is origami. Paper is used to contain still fruit drinks and to wrap fish suppers.

Paper is also biodegradable and is often used by retail establishments the world over as proof of purchase.

Unfortunately paper is also highly under-rated. It can often fulfill these wonderful deeds, yet is shunned with a disgraceful par of respect akin to that of our current nonentity love affair(s) (or is that just me?).

I can't say I'm a huge fan of a nostril-flaring equation charging plastic-bag-first into my designated till area, thrusting a video game down my tits and grunting urgently before my face like a badly constructed porno metaphor.

Aforementioned nostril-flaring will inevitably subside, followed by a boom of 'WANT MA MONEY BAK'. Yes, Sir, all right Sir. Now, do you have your receipt Sir? Carrying on the slight-porno theme, there is what one might call a "pregnant pause" between thought and answer to this simple question.

I have heard various responses in my time: "was given as a gift/lost it/threw it out/can't you look it up on the loyalty card?" and my personal favourite "you didn't give me one".

I cannot stand customers who blatantly lie. I like to nickname them 'cuntomers', and believe that most have never worked in a retail environment in their life. White lies I can deal with, but fibs which tie blame directly to a member of staff makes me wonder how people can be so heartless. Most of the time I know they are simply not thinking, but given my general think to talk ratio, I fail to understand wht most people can't copy my example, think before they speak, and keep their slobbering chops closed.

Sadly jaws tend to gnash violently, even although most of the time the conclusion is a simplistic "Well, how do we know you bought it from here if you have no proof?"

And a note to consumers: I do not have a fucking photobank memory. I can't recall your ugly mug from my mind almost instantaneously, even if you reassuringly pat me on the arm, look me in the eye and insist "You served me dear". Wank off.

I often witness situations like these disintegrate into metaphoric political debates. Coming to a suitable agreement - or alternatively sticking the finger up and saying "bite me" - can take anything up to fifteen minutes of my working time. That's fifteen minutes I could have been tidying. Or pricing. Or eating, sleeping, drinking or wanking. That's fifteen minutes of my life that I won't get back, and that sucks.

Individuals with an honest nature don't trouble me: they can have my fifteen minutes, and I will gladly mend any misunderstandings. But face me with a coward spouting the 'but-I-haven't-even-taken-it-out-the-box' drivel, as I stand grimacing at the food/scratch/DNA/unknown substance coating the product, and I'll most likely explode violently over the disgruntled customer (and hopefully the disgruntled customers unwanted purchase too).

It doesn't take a great effort to hang on to a receipt. It is infuriating to imagine the countless personal bags of the population, stuffed with rubbish and bottom-lined by old receipts steadily turning to a papier mache mould.

Receipts are - in my opinion at least - the backbone of retail society. Without one, your unwanted PES 2008 (of which I am duly informed you have two copies of, bought by both your auntie and your granny) is of no use to anyone. So please, give us a break and save us the hassle of pointless arguing, rehearsing store policy, and having to spend un-natural periods of time staring at your mugshot until you finally get the hint. Please, consumers, sponsor a till monkey today, and hang on to your proof of purchase.

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Alex Kidd

Posted at 10:24

My husband and active sexual partner Alex Kidd has been reviewed by my deranged self for during his vast escapade in Miracle World. Enjoy!

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Wii Don't Care...

Posted at 22:09
..or at least ii don't anyway. I'm sick of worse-than-a-99p-double-DVD-disc-set tripe like this: stupid morons trying to cash-in on the most over-hyped console to date that wi(i)ll "go down in history", at least according to todays Metro.

Bring on some smart-arse from Ye Olde Yorkshire. Ho ho ho, let's publish an e-bay listing for no less than £499,000, and say Hey, lets set a World Record for the Most Arrogant Twat To Sell A Console For Stupid Money Just To Gain Pathetic Media Attention And Make £499,000+ Whilst In the Process, and a simultaneous World Record for the Stupidest Numpty To Buy It.

I often wonder if everyone has lost their braincells, when something like this low-end buzz becomes a 'big deal'. Then again ever since I was URL'd the Numa-Yei kid, I have realised that humans really are the dumbest creatures ever to pollute Planet Earth. No wonder intelligent life doesn't bother invading us; we're about as bright as the average city becomes during a mass blackout.

Then again, I wave my hands at my own one-sided argument. I wouldn't care so much if 1) The proceeds of this pointless 'record' were given to charity, or some equally greater good and 2) The winning bidder recognised this, and paid up accordingly.

But what do I think, based on the harsh reality of human nature? Pffft, I believe nothing. I believe the I believe the winning sod will stick the proverbial finger up at one unhappy seller, all will fall apart and be forgotten by the mass publicia, and this time next week we'll all be Googling for some moron that can recite the German alphabet - BACKWARDS - whilst naked, hiccuping, and painted purple.

Suicide Express (Commodore 64) Review

Posted at 15:57

Suicide Express is one of those games that probably shouldn’t scare you, but does. Forget tales of what you used to get up to behind the school bike sheds; fear of a cassette tape should remain the prime secret you don’t want to drunkenly blurt to friends at social gatherings.

Even the greeting given by the emo-friendly title sends a shiver down the spine. You can thank the ever-wonderful SID chip for that - it’s distinctive sounds of rich eerie sawtooth melodies sent this reviewer sucking her thumb behind a cushion.

The gameplay itself is slightly tricky. The main objective is to guide your train through increasingly complex birdseye-view tracks that, failing regular eye rests, will have your head spinning.

For an 8-bit title the graphics are visually acceptable (if occasionally confusing). The action is fast. Very fast, in fact. One moment of lost concentration will see your efforts dashed in a colourful detonation of pixelated anger. Despite this, the player has a niggling urge to continue. Giving up is not an option here. This game is highly addictive.

The train itself is controlled by either joystick or keyboard. I personally found the former more intuitive, and in no time found myself track-dodging, enemy-shooting (this is one pimped-up train) and racing at high speed down the railway line, as SID accompanied me with the very same urgent quavered melody I had previewed from the menu screen.

Although Suicide Express would be of little interest to most modern gamers who are fed on a high-fibre diet of short epic movies and graphics-rich storylines, those who appreciate the original concept of ‘videogaming’ will rejoice at its addictive simplistic nature.

Alas, despite all skill and said addictive joystick-throttling, all journeys must terminate. My personal journey happened to do so after a particularly grueling chase, with an all-mighty thwacking crash of a finale.

But just when you’re counting the dead and fooled into believing that the bloodcurdling bad dream has ended in a crescendo of white noise, you jump right behind the couch once more.

And let me tell you why: Suicide Express was widely known to be one of the first games to include a synthesized voice, in this case used to read the defeated users end game score. Yes, it was indeed this audio aid that sent me helplessly fleeing the telly screen once more. Maybe it’s just me, but I found its wavering robotic readout almost terrifying. Self admittedly I’m the sort to be scared of my own shadow, but the fact that a game was actually talking to me still gives me the slight shakes.

This recent revisit to Suicide Express for the purpose of review was something I thought I could handle sensibly. After all, I’m an adult, for goodness sake. But d’you know, despite constant reassurances of “but it’s just a game!”, I think I’ll play it safe and take the bus to work tomorrow...

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You can't make a pun out of DS

Posted at 11:00

No sooner than the Nintendo Wii bares its magical arse on UK store shelves once more, than the DS disappears mysteriously from what appears to be the face of the planet. Where are all these consoles rendezvousing? Stripper clubs, maybe. Or maybe they're quaking in their chemical-filled plastic shells because Greenpeace have waggled their green finger at them for being...well, chemical-filled plastic shells, I suppose.

Lucky for their delicately-finished casing then that customers don't really seem to have noticed. Speaking of which, I wish you would make up your fudging mind you bunch-of-bananas consumers. Do you want a DS or do you want a Wii? Or do you want a kick up the hoo-haa because you can't ever make your mind up? I'll administer all but the first two, free of sodding charge.

The days are getting longer, ladies and gentlemen, and I'm sick. I'm sick of long nights and even longer days. I'm sick of Christmas songs that make me want to beg my practitioner to book me in for an ear-decapitation. I'm sick of seeing cut-price advent calendars and being tempted to buy them and sit on my couch in a depressed manner, scoffing them all in one sitting. And most of all, I'm sick of the false hype, sold out products and price changing, because my nails are starting to break.

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Posted at 15:38
I've just been granted permission to start submitting articles for the classic gaming section of and also

Recently my profile has been added to the donkeygamer team, complete with Miracle World backdrop. My first article is UK-based rantage on the current Wii shortage. Bizarrely this seems to be surpassed by way of a ruddy DS shortage (make up your mind public, for f**ks sake). My second article will be undoubtedly Alex Kidd-esque and should be featured some time next week.

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Wii'd Off

Posted at 18:08
[This article has been recently published on donkeygamer]

I'm sorry Nintendo, but I don't like you.

Currently, Nintendo stand responsible for over 90% of the headaches I've experienced this month. And believe me, I'm not one to get headaches.
That little £180 white box is currently pounding at some inner region of my brainal area, fueled by Christmas and maintained by annoyingly chirpy parents with their crumpled Christmas lists, written by their surprisingly demanding younglings. Playing Santa must be difficult, I sympathise, but, by goodness, being Santa's Little Helper should come with a few health warnings of its own.

At this particular moment in time, during the frantic, in my opinion utterly pointless run up to the big Two-Five, one can't help but notice that the most pressing question on lips, down phonelines, and yes, even one of the most searched-for products on the Internet this week (at least, according to, is this alternative next-gen games console.

You have to hand it to Nintendo, they've done a spanking grand job in hyping up their console to the high heavens for the second year running. In fact, there's so much buzz that Nintendo have decided to pull their UK advertising. They're clever sods, and know fine well that not only is demand is far greater than current production can keep up with, but understand that announcing advert cuts to the media will result in even more media hype! Which will thus result in even more attention being generated toward the company. Honestly, if Nintendo were an average functioning human being fed humble pie, quite surely they would have burst at the seams by now.

In retaliation, consumers are looking for alternative gadgetry to display under the tree, and most are pointing their purses in the direction of the hand-held Nintendo DS console, in order to sooth their heartbroken bairns during the Yule Tide season. And now even stocks of DS's are dwindling, with many shops displaying "Due to overwhelming DS consoles are currently in stock" signs, to shoo the wild mass of general public from congregating, instigating protest marches, firebombing games stores, etc.

I'm not really sure how much more I or my fellow co-workers can take of the constant and hopeless demand shown by the mass elite of Central Scotland.
Queries like "I know this is a stupid question, but you wouldn't happen to have any Wii's in stock, would you?", are asked at least fifty-four times on a daily basis.
Now, come on general public; you've already done yourself a favour. If you think your question is likely to be stupid, most likely it is, and you should refrain from asking in the first place. Or, better still, offer me an aspirin first.
Aside from a tight smile and mutterings of a thanks-you-are-of-absolutely-no-help-at-all demeanor, the next most common follow up to my generic response of "No, piss off" is usually "So...when do you think you'll have your next delivery?", as if sudden sweet-talk will coax me into passing on phantom information which, by the way, I DON'T POSSES. The best response, I have found, is to smile sickly and chant "My psychic abilities aren't working today. Next please?"

Not to sound overly mean - which I probably do - Christmas cheer and I appear to operate on completely different wavelengths. Not because I'm a wholly selfish sod, you understand (I am, but only partially), but because I simply find Christmas to be repetitive, a complete farce, a monotonous novelty-driven scheme in which retail fat-cats enter the bitter cliche, jacking up prices to staggering proportions, and emerging triumphant, patting their fat bulging wallets satisfyingly.

Gone is the notion that an orange in your stalking is to be valued, and here arrives the twenty-first century arrogance of youth, which dictates that if little miss X and young mister Y do not receive their Slim and Lite PSP on the festive day, blood will boil, parents will anger, and huge huge trouble can - and indeed will - ensue.

Unfortunately for myself and the rest of the hard-working individuals at game stores across the nation, most of this huge huge trouble is aimed squarely at us, the sales assistants. Stuff Call of Duty 4, we are the true front line, fighting for a bit of peace and quiet, defending nasty blows of verbal abuse and words of ignorance, pleading, and the occasional expletive.

There's a lot more to be said about the state of society (but don't worry, I've almost finished). Most importantly, I would urge all you hard-working individuals to stop for a moment, and consider exactly why you shell out wads of hard-earned cash (or otherwise) on over-priced crap, most of which will either never see the light of day, or worse still, takes at least six AA batteries to even function in the first place.
Advice like this coming from a twenty year old with a bad haircut may sound odd, but I believe that nowadays, in the midst of a generation of spoiled children and both retail and peer pressure, that maybe it's time to step back and take a look at the bigger picture.

I wouldn't consider myself religious in any way, but I can recognise the basic fundamentals that Christmas once stood for: kindness, appreciation, a time to reflect and a time to look forward. Somewhere along the line, I think we got lost.

But as December 25th approaches evermore, I sigh inwardly, and realise that no-one really gives a shit about good moral values any more, and I thank the baby Jesus, who was born on Christmas day, that I get a 10% discount on console hardware, because my mum quite fancies a DS for Christmas...

Footnote: For those who are interested, the subject matter can be discussed at the Retro Gamer forums here

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