Our Crack Tongue & Groove
What fresh hell is this?
I can’t say that I’ve read the entire rulebook when it comes to Pokemon Go, but as far as I can gather players must round up vicious creatures and then train them up in secret “gyms” hidden around the city. When they feel that they’ve beefed them up enough, they then set them on each other in a fight to the death to see who’s got the best. It’s basically dog fighting for kids. I say for kids, but if only. I’ve got friends, some with beer bellies and mortgages, who have tried to engage me in conversations about an imaginary digital creature called Weedle. One of them even spends his nights skulking around the back of the train station looking for Jigglypuff.
Apparently three people in the United States have been attacked while playing the game. Only three! If I see one of my mates wandering round a shopping centre while wafting their iPhone around and trying to “catch ‘em all”, I’d feel no shame in knocking it clean out of their stupid hands. “But it gets people out of the house!” goes the cry, as if an endless stream of cooking programmes on the telly doesn’t. It won’t last, of course, but when all of my mates get sick of hunting down imaginary monsters, I’m sure they’ll be at the forefront of the mooted My Little Pony revival.