Via the miracle of atomic reverse-tachyon wave-signals, we've been picking up data from the future for some weeks now. While a lot of it is just rubbish, such as television schedules, stuff about moon cats and some recipes for giant space hamburgers, we've also been fortunate enough to tune into the electronic diary of a future gamesplayer. Though it isn't clear from which year the transmissions are being broadcast, from the advanced technology discussed in the diary entries, our experts have dated it at about the space-year 2004 AD. Here are some exclusive extracts:

MARCH 3RD
I am suffering the consequences of tele-porting down that cheap German graphics over-driver for my Sega console. When I connected the device to the back of the console, it began to overheat and fused. Now the radiation being given out by its cold fusion power pack is giving me weird dreams. Last night I dreamt that I was trying to eat Sonic The Hedgehog. When I woke up my pillow was gone and there was blood all over the sheets! If I can't find some way to remove the over-driver, I shall have to scrap the console altogether and get a sub-dermal Sony WristStation implanted. And I really don't want that.

MARCH 5TH
I had no choice but to disintegrate the console. I woke up this morning to find that the over-driver had gone into meltdown. I had suffered 90% burns, and grown a second head - though thankfully, my bedroom mainframe had administered anaesthetic the moment it detected my plight, so my pain was cut short. The skin graft specialists have told me that they'll be here "sometime on Wednesday" but couldn't give a specific time. That means I'll have to stay in all day. I was supposed to meet Tuxxus 56 for a game of solar fin-ball on Wednesday. Tsk.

MARCH 7TH
I waited all day for the skin-graft team to arrive - most of it spent playing multi-player Jelly Boy 3D over the Inter-web - but they never turned up. I rang them, and there was no answer. I later discovered over the newswire that the firm had been stolen by alien off-world raiders, known as The Strommmuu. This is not good. I look like a crocodile skin handbag. Whatever one of those is.

MARCH 8TH
I left the house for the first time in three days today, using my bedroom's cordless holo unit to disguise my hideous appearance. Unfortunately, the unit had obviously been affected by the radiation from the malfunctioning Sega over-driver and my disguise kept alternating between Mick Hucknall, Crash Bandicoot, and a load of binary in the shape of a really big swivel chair. The people at the arcade thought I was trying to cause trouble, and made me leave by hitting me with long sticks which had light bulbs on the end. I was so confused about my life that I started crying.