You’ve arrived home at around midnight. You’ve just downed vast quantities of fermented man-fuel. And now, having successfully convinced Daz, Gaz and Kev that, after witnessing British athletes fall over their shoelaces, urinate mid-race, and/or accidentally brain/maim/impale themselves on various pieces of field sport equipment, it’s time to get some virtual payback.

Marginally better than imagining Britain winning gold in a post-Redgrave era, is Beijing 2008: The Official Video Game Of The Olympic Games (TOVGOTOG – catchy). You can, of course, play any event you wish from the get-go, from various running distances, through field sports such as javelin, hammer, long jump, high jump, triple jump and so on, and even take part in more niche events such as table tennis, diving, archery and judo. In fact, there are 38 events and that sounds like rather a lot of fun, don’t you think?

And it is... if Daz, Gaz and Kev are all present and correct. Because playing Beijing 2008 on your own occupies a measure of fun shared with terminal cancer. It’s hard to believe that gameplay-wise, these types of games haven’t really evolved since Track And Field – a game now a full quarter of a century in age. You’ll sigh in disbelief as you’re made to waggle the stick from side to side, or mash the buttons to build ‘power’ or ‘speed’. You’ll emit the pathetic squealing of a tortured dog as the game offers you a one nanosecond window of opportunity in which to release whatever object you’re attempting to wang up-field. And you’ll cry the tears of an incontinent Radcliffe as the lactic acid builds to a level at which your arm is so flaccid, you might as well limply droop at the Sixaxis with a liquorice bootlace. Meanwhile, back at the party house, our four drunks are really enjoying the game for precisely the same reasons. Daz is shouting laddish abuse at Kev, who’s just failed the 100m because he waggled one stick, and accidentally nudged the other. Gaz and Kev can’t stop laughing at Daz, whose right palm has now lost its entire epidermis and is now just a vast weeping sore. And conciliatory hugs ensue as, due to a lack of visual and audio cues, no one seems to be able to time their starts so that the race is over before it’s begun.

During a time of Olympic fever, a lot will be forgiven. During drunken moments with the boys, perhaps doubly so. But with the handcrippling mechanics competently preventing solo play, Beijing 2008 is a tiring, painful and disjointed experience.

Dan Howdle