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Why I'm taking a year off music to live in Center Parcs, by Drake

HIP HOP star Drake, fresh from releasing new album For All The Dogs, has announced he is quitting music to spend 12 months in Center Parcs Sherwood Forest. His month-by-month plan: 

October

A full year in the greatest place on earth? That’s a flex. Me and the crew are in exclusive lodges, the best crib they offer, complete with hot tub and steam room. Blowing trees among the trees, you feel me?

November

Ain’t nothing more swag than waking up at the Parcs each day. Knowing not one rapper in a thousand – not Flo Milli, not Lil Uzi Vert, not Q-Tip – could afford this. Practice pool in the games room. My safety game gon’ be on motherfucking point.

December

Snowy walks around the site’s 400 acres of forest, my bodyguards enjoying snowy walks four to six metres behind me? Seeing in New Year butt-ass naked in the UK’s first treetop sauna? Living my best life.

January

By this time, I’m out of cash. 75 billions streams can’t fund the CenterParcs lifestyle long-term. I order my accountants to liquidate my investment portfolios and sell properties. I’m in this honeypot for a good time and a long time.

February

The month of kayaking. Except it isn’t because that shit is seasonal and only runs April-October. Sulk until March.

March

My son, who I’ve become a wonderful, loving father to after losing a beef with Pusha T, is finally here. I’ve been waiting so long, and now we can attend the Junior Falconers Club. Flying falcons like Saudi money, man.

April

Income’s low. We move into a woodland lodge, a step down, and I take a minimum-wage position pot-washing at the Foresters Inn.

May

Former collaborators Rihanna, A$AP Rocky and Giggs swing by for an afternoon of archery and shit. Explain they have to pay. Explain they’ll have to hire the bicycles, because Tracey on bike hire’s banned me for doing wheelies in pedestrianised areas.

June

One of my dogs flashes a piece in Laser Combat and we lose our holding deposit. Have to take second job as housekeeping.

July

Nine months eating at Bella Italia and I’m out of shape. I go HAM on Bounce Boogie, freestyle yoga and badminton. Get my face painted like a butterfly for the 45th time this calendar year.

August

11 months at CenterParcs is just about right for me. Not so long it gets boring or repetitive, not too short that you can’t learn to know every staff member’s name and how they live. By now I’m part of the furniture with my own keys to the five-a-side pitch. It’s the acceptance I crave.

September

Flat broke, evicted, all my royalties signed over permanently to the Parcs, I need to get back to music. A few spins down the Tropical Cyclone and I leave the domes behind. From now on it’s recording studios and arena gigs a world away from my happy place, a holiday park in Nottinghamshire just off the A614.

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Breath of the Wild: the greatest game ever or the usual Nintendo bollocks?

THE Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild was an unparalleled gaming masterpiece never to be repeated, until the sequel. In retrospect was it actually shit?

The story is the same old crap

Nintendo loves selling the same crap time and again. Breath of the Wild is no exception. As in all previous games you’re Link, you’ve got pointy ears, you have to save your homeland, rescue the princess and find the Master Sword as in all Zelda games. Why can’t Link ever go into space or run a shoe shop?

No guns

Weapon degradation, meaning your shiny new sword breaks, is bad enough. But given the gravity of his task, can’t he wield a double-barrelled shotgun or James Bond’s PP7 from GoldenEye? Imagine the joy of taking Calamity Ganon down with a minigun instead of a pathetic bow and arrow.

There aren’t any dungeons

The Zelda series was all about delving into dungeons and solving their action puzzles, until this one took it all away. Replaced by mildly diverting shrines that required the intelligence of an eight-year-old to solve. Even the Divine Beasts only stump you, a player in their mid-thirties who should be doing something better with their life, for a matter of minutes.

Korok Forest lags like a bitch

One of the genuine strengths of Breath of the Wild is how beautiful it is. That’s until you run into Korok Forest, the frame rate bottoms out, and you’re juddering your way through the lush scenery like you’re on a 2002 internet connection.

The ending is deeply unsatisfying

You’ve sunk nearly two hundred hours and months of your life into this game. You’ve traversed every inch of Hyrule, found every Korok seed, completed every side quest, and you can’t wait to see how magnificently it all pays off. Then once you defeat Calamity Ganon and roll credits, the game reloads you back to just before the final fight. Your accomplishment will never be acknowledged. Brilliant.

It looks like a demo compared to Tears of the Kingdom

Gamers in 2017 were a primitive bunch, easily impressed by an open-world Zelda game where you could move metal balls around with magic powers. Then the sequel came out with its sky islands and fuse powers and made Breath of the Wild look like an archaic piece of crap. You blank it when you see it, like a toxic ex.

You haven’t picked it up since

When was the last time you or anyone else played Breath of the Wild? During lockdown when there was fuck all else to do? Hardly a ringing endorsement for a game once heralded as the apotheosis of the form. Let’s face it, a few years down the line and every game’s as outdated as Space Invaders. 

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