Battling Tops? Why, ‘tis a grand olde European folk game, sir, as famously depicted in 16th century paintings by Brueghel and his ilk. However, we suspect his Battling Tops weren’t housed in a blue plastic arena, presumably didn’t go by such wrestling ring monikers as Hurricane Hank, Dizzy Dan or, er, Smarty Smitty, and were certainly far from Ideal. ... more>>>

Way before The X Files, partwork magazines like The Unexplained and telly shows like The Crazy World Of Arthur C. Clarke (he invented satellites, you know) cashed in on our periodic fascination for paranormal phenomena, although it was actually Charles Berlitz who wrote a book in 1974 called “The Bermuda Triangle”. That renewed interest, perhaps also spurred on by the Barry Manilow hit of the same name, made this a very popular game in the early ‘80s. ... more>>>

The Binatone TV Master was the first computer game experience witnessed by many Cream era households, nestling as it did in the Argos catalogue alongside the portable b/w TVs (with which it shared a parasitic relationship). Aeons before kids sat hypnotised in front of the latest Grand Theft Auto clone, sacrificing great chunks of their lives to completing the next level, this slab of circuit-based entertainment dragged us in off the streets to watch a box-shaped pixel zig-zag its way across the screen. What a choking irony, therefore, that this gatekeeper of the soon-to-be-ushered-in console era attempted to mimic a selection of sports games. ... more>>>

It’s bizarre that this should even make it into a children’s wish list of most desired games or toys, being - as it is – the very definition of the anti-toy. Ostensibly a cross between a savings bank and a chocolate dispensing machine it actually fails to live up to the promise of either. But that is to underestimate its novelty. ... more>>>

Traditionally the arena of combat wherein eldest son would best dad (as depicted on the front of the box) in some gaming rites of passage (“look dad, diagonally!”), Connect Four was the insanely addictive board game destined to split families asunder across the globe. Originally marketed as The Captain’s Mistress on account of a rumour traditionally linking it with Captain Cook (he was playing it, not shagging it, so the story goes), the definitive ‘70s edition is part-owned by – and why are we not surprised by this? - David Bowie. ... more>>>

There’s something about the sheer size of so many toys and games of our era; they weren’t just played in the house, they took over the house. Nowadays, everything’s been reissued in petite “coffee table” versions on sale in the Gadget Shop. Back then, you needed French windows just to get the likes of Crossfire indoors. ... more>>>

Yet another thing the Yanks did bigger and better than us. For the Cream era child hardly a week would pass without Roy Castle introducing another colour-saturated videotape of Record Breaking domino topplers in a Milwaukee aircraft hangar. Therein, jaundiced-looking Spielberg-alikes would spend days setting up elaborate displays under hot sodium lamps (usually suffering a cataclysmic set-back when a stray grasshopper knocked over a 10,000-tile set piece overnight). America, Holland, China… you name it, everyone had a crack at the record books. ... more>>>

This ‘Seventies entry ticks nearly all the boxes required of a board game. First off, even before the box was opened, you had the double-meaning implicit in the name (successfully exploited by the burglar-centric telly ads) insofar as not only did the red and yellow counters of the opposing sides “fall down” through the vertical playing construct, but also whilst you were trying to win you could have been assisting your competitor in their attempt to plot your “downfall”. ... more>>>

As the cod-Spanish name suggests, this game is ancient - dating from the 1920s, in fact. Several attempts have been made to capture, in game format, the excitement of horse racing (although for our money the ‘excitement’ of horse racing begins and ends with a Ladbroke’s payout). Chad Valley, redoubtable makers of toy guitars and drum kits for several generations of British youth, were the first. ... more>>>

Looking like a vulcanised Gonzo or other freak cast-off from the Henson workshop, Finger Frights promised “hours of joy for a girl or boy”, or so cried the nicotine-stained street trader who sold them out of a suitcase in the city centre. (The same scruffy fella later made a living peddling Gordon the Gopher squeaky hand puppets, only to return the following year with exactly the same stock dyed pink and touted as Mr Blobby.) ... more>>>