My brain aches with the pulsing throb of a piece of think-meat that has been sorely overtaxed in the last 36 hours. It’s not that I’ve been contemplating the great mysteries of our time, I’ve just been playing an awful lot of computer games. Nearly 300. You see, I wanted to take a proper look at the Pirate Kart and I was ploughing through the list quite happily, finding plenty that I only had to spend a minute with and others that I knew I’d be writing about. But then, as if I were a character plucked from the mind of Hermann Hesse, I was struck by the scale of the task at hand and a deep sense of angst overwhelmed me. My faithful manservant DuPont administered smelling salts and brandy, and hours later I dictated this madness to him.