This Week: Game Kid has a taxi nightmare.

"Paddington Station please."

"Paddington Station? Right you are, Guv."

Game Kid settled back into the slippery depths of his seat as the Houses of Parliament sweep by, hoping this chirpy cockney fellow wouldn't try and engage his hangover in conversation.

"What have you been doing in the our great nation's capital then, Sir? It's just that I can tell - an' I can always tell these fings, see - that you 'aint from round these parts."

Sighing wearily, GK massages the bulging veins of his temples.

"No I'm not, and I've been to the launch of a new PlayStation game, if you must know."

"'Ave you really, Sir? It just so 'appens I'm an expert on PlayStation games. Man and boy: I've played 'em since I was a nippa."

"Have you really?"

"Yes indeed I 'ave, mate. And you know wot my motto is, when I'm back at my 'ouse shootin' all those aliens and fings?"

"No; I really can't begin to imagine."

"Eee 'oo dares wins, mate. Eee 'oo dares wins. Take that Lara Ashley bird. Or is it Annabel Croft? Anyway: the one from Raiders of the Lost Temple of Doom. I did that in a night, I did. Piece a cake it was. You just gotta round 'em all up, put 'em in the middle of a field and drop a few nuclear bombs on 'em. Or do I mean that James Bond game? What was that called - Golden Shower? Anyway, I prefer those N46 affairs, like Quake and Sega Rally."

Just then he swerves violently and cuts-up an innocent pensioner, almost forcing her three-wheeler off the road.

"Bloomin' 'ell! Who does she think she is? Damon bleedin' 'ill? Sorry about that, mate. But anywise, as I was sayin', it's those sports sim fings wot I like the most, like that Michael Owen World Series Baseball. Plays a great game of cricket that. Or is it tennis? All those zombies cumin' at you from every which way - you need a Porsche to 'andle those bleeders, I can tell you..."