About a decade ago, the financial crash was almost a decade old. Unrelatedly, my kids were under 10, so I was spending a lot more time in arcades. There’s a particular game involving a metal claw – it goes by the name of claw-game. You put in a pound, and try to manipulate the claw to grab a toy that is worth nothing like a pound. You would take that as the price of a bit of family fun, except the claw never grabbed a toy.
The frustration for a six-year-old was immense, every lost pound making the probably flammable stuffed hamster more urgently desirable. But it was way worse for me, because I was clinging on to some residual 80s idea of arcade-honour. Surely, after pound #7, the machine would just give you a sodding toy? That would represent an astronomical return, lessen the possibility of an adult kicking the machine to death and assure a returning market of maybe 10% of the dumbest or most spineless parents. But no, nada. No toys, ever.
