I have always loved playing pinball and so itÂ’s a shame that the machines are so rarely around these days. ItÂ’s understandable though, they are bulkier than most video games and hard to maintain and probably not very interesting to the younger generation. I like it so much that I am planning to buy an old machine myself, which I suppose is one of the sad indications that I am turning into an old man, prepared to spend well over the odds to recapture a moment of my fleeting youth.
In the mean time I have found my favourite ever machine, based on the AddamÂ’s Family film, which is located in a secret arcade in central London (OK, itÂ’s not secret, but I donÂ’t want to tell you where it is because I donÂ’t want you all coming down to play on it as well and ruin it). Although there are a couple of glitches it is in pretty good working order, so IÂ’ve spent a few hours this week avoiding work and trying to recapture my high score of yesteryear. I havenÂ’t even managed to enter every room in the mansion and thus get the special that allows me to visit all the rooms at once. I can tell that you are disappointed with me.
Today I played a bit later than usual and some other men were waiting to have a go after me. Once again I got a vision of the nerd that I so surely am when I looked at them. They were about my age, on their own, a bit overweight and slightly too excited about playing a game that is designed to entertain children. I am guessing none of them had girlfriends.
As usual with the nerds I tried to pretend that I was somehow better than them, that I wasn’t experiencing the same prickly excitement as they were at the opportunity to try and “Hit Cousin It”. I tried to affect an air of having just been playing the machine to pass time, to see how it worked. I tried to pretend that I wasn’t one of them.
But they looked at me and saw my face flushed from excitement. They saw the perspiration that clung to my brow. It was as if there was a window to my heart (thatÂ’s my second Time Lord heart of course, or was it Vulcan? I donÂ’t know because I am not a nerd like you. Dammit, I do really.) and within that heart was a mirror that reflected them precisely,
I left, maintaining my charade and the men chose to play along and not acknowledge me as one of them, even though I clearly was.
But we all knew that come kicking out time at the pub each of us would be eating two pieces of fried chicken and chips, alone.
