Tears of the Kingdom: top tips, tricks and hacks to get your partner to stop playing it

ARE you dead to your partner because they’re glued to the new Zelda game? Get them to pay attention to you using these methods.

Break the controller

This is a complicated move to pull off. You’ll need to wrestle the controller from your partner’s iron grip, then mash all the buttons at once as you snap it over your knee. Pro tip: make sure there isn’t a secondary controller hidden behind the DVD player or all your hard work will have been in vain.

Ask to have a go

Your partner won’t be able to play the game if you’re having a go, so ask them if you can run around Hyrule for a few minutes. This will stun your other half because it’s a request they can’t reasonably object to. Use this window of opportunity to snatch the console from their hands then delete their save file. That’ll f**king teach them.

Spoil the ending

Your boyfriend/girlfriend – but let’s face it, probably boyfriend – will be less engaged in Tears of the Kingdom if you give away the ending. Some nerd’s undoubtedly done a speed run of it already, so delve into their Reddit thread and pull out the necessary details. Apparently something called Zelda dies? Is that important? Either way, tell your partner.

Offer sex

This feels like cheating because it always works. If your partner has stopped noticing you, coyly let slip that you’re in the mood to do that thing you usually only do on their birthday, then beckon them to the bedroom. Watch out though. They might take the Switch out of the dock and bring it with them, in which case it’s game over.

Say it doesn’t look as good as Oracle of Seasons

So you can combine items to make creative new tools and weapons, big deal? Oracle of Seasons had a magic rod that allowed you to harness the power of nature, which is way cooler. Plus you could link it with Oracle of Ages to beat an extra boss. Your partner will gently place the game down and give you their full attention as they explain how utterly wrong you are.

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Six questions that demand immediate answers the morning after getting blackout drunk

YOU think you might have had a good night, but until you satisfy these six questions your mind will be filled with fear, panic and paranoia.

Where am I?

Usually answered with a quick scan around. You definitely aren’t in your bedroom or uncomfortably stretched out on a recognisable park bench. You’re in a room, but that’s the extent of your knowledge. You can’t see any gimp masks and handcuffs lying around, so that’s a plus.

What’s the last thing I remember?

Fleeting flashbacks are unhelpful, as they stop at 9.30pm when you were regaling several people with an anecdote about a massively exaggerated sexual encounter. Some bloke seemed to have the hump with you, but you’d remember a fight, surely? It’s an alcohol blackout, not f**king Memento. But all you’ve retained is the memory of rounds of shots. Lots and lots of shots. After that, nothing. There may be some connection.

How did I get here?

Having established you’re in a strange place, your next question is: ‘How?’ It would help if you could look outside, but you don’t want to risk moving due to the nausea, bright light and fear. Maybe you were abducted by aliens and placed in a simulacrum of a human dwelling to study? That would be quite reassuring at this point.

Who’s he/she/them/that?

Sickening fear hits you as you realise you’re not alone. You have no recollection of meeting anyone, never mind copping off. You daren’t look because then you’ll know for sure. For all you know it could be an animal. Could you be pissed enough to have sex with a dog? No, these are ridiculous, paranoid thoughts. You’d have heard a ‘woof’ by now. 

What should I be doing right now?

What time is it? In fact, what day is it? If it’s Monday you should be in work. If it’s Saturday you should be doing a big shop and bleeding radiators. You really need to synchronise yourself with reality. Despite the acrid coating of kebab juice in your mouth and churning in your stomach, you have a hankering for bacon. It must be Saturday.

What’s the damage?

You feel like Death not so much warmed up as suffering from gastroenteritis, and hopefully it’s not permanent. Your phone’s missing and when you try to get up it’s like being on a fairground waltzer ride. Anything could happen next: an attractive stranger coming back from the shop with breakfast; vomiting up stomach lining; discovering you somehow spent 300 quid last night. All you can say with certainty is it won’t be the first one.