This week Game Kid finds himself at the forefront of a global conflict and his games are smeared with something brown and unpleasant. The upshot is shockingly tee-heeful.

Following a Grade A binge that entailed sampling the delights of all the clear spirits plus a few cases of Chateau La Breem de Fois Du Garde Du Sude ('72), Game Kid returned to his office to discover his Dreamcast, PlayStation2 and beloved Atari Lynx smashed like so much expensive plastic tomfoolery, his collection of games smeared with what looked like chunky chocolate spread, and his library of New Computer Express, ACE and Zzap64 magazines torn into tiny shreds. More worrying than all of this, however, was that written on the walls in the free finger paints he received from The Learning Company to celebrate the release of some learning package or other were the words: "Internet Games Rool", "Offline Gaming Must Die", "Game Kiddie Is A Piggie!" and "Platform Games Sux!"

Kid slumped into his slashed leather armchair, his head in his hands. He knew it was the beginning of yet another religious war, and this one looked big, as big as the "My Amiga/Your ST" or "My Sega/Your Nintendo" holy wars of the early-to-mid '90s. Even the "My PC/Your Mac" epic that had been running since time began but which had only been simmering since the Jobs/Gates Accord (The Camp Balmer Agreement) looked like small beer compared to this.

He took his Nokia NK746q784847 slimline mobile phone from its holster 'neath his left armpit and, wiping the detritus from its keys, speed-dialled Mad Stuart McJourno, one of his contacts in the underworld; an unmentionable loner whose run-ins with the authorities were legendary and expensive.