"Is this a wind-up?" I probably should've asked, hilariously.
Adding insult to injury, it was a footballer-themed watch - a player's vibrating leg operated as some sort of second hand, as if he was having a seizure - and I didn't even like football.
When I returned to school after the holidays, it was without a watch on my wrist. Gallingly, Patrick Frieze was there in the playground, proudly showing off his massive new calculator watch, and asked me if I got the watch I'd asked for.
"Yeah," I mumbled...
"Good man. Let's see it."
"I left it at home, in case it got damaged."
I did eventually get a digital watch, but it had a metal strap, and it used to pinch my skin. Be careful what you wish for, chillen.
Hey - did you know that you used to be able to play games on your watches? Of course you did. Here's a gallery of some of those things what I just done mentioned an ting.
Amusingly, one of its final products - before being acquired by watch manufacturer M.Z. Berger, who continue to use the Nelsonic brand on regular, non-gaming, watches - was a virtual pet called Dinky Dino's Watch. Alas, it had nothing to do with the similar-named Kick-Off creator, Dinosaur Dinisaur. Although he is quite dinky.
Having achieved some success with a watch featuring a built-in calculator - which also included a very basic version of Space Invaders (it utilised numbers in the place of aliens) - Casio leapt more fully into capitalising on the increasing popularity of video games.
Though virtually unplayable, unless you had fingers the size of twigs, Casio's games became ever more ambitious. By the end of their run, there were around 40 Casio game wartches. I mention that incredibly interesting statistic only so that you don't have to go to the effort of looking it up. Five minutes of your life I've saved you there.
Indeed, the theming of Nelsonic's Tetris watch - though branded with the Nintendo logo - went the full-Russian, with its red plastic, and onion domes. Indeed, it couldn't have felt more Russian if it had a beetroot glued to it, and leaked vodka all over your wrist, and tried to hack your emails, and persecuted homosexuals.
These included standing the two-inch robot on its head to put it in "battle station mode", and holding it horizontally to place it into "galactic shuttle mode". The less said about its "rectal suppository mode" the better (you had to put it up your bottom).
"David, why is your anus bleeping?"
"That's not my anus - it's my Kronoform."
"You do realise there's blood dripping down the back of your legs?"
After all, it is a golf game, and golf is awful, and played by almost exclusively rich old white snobs, as if they're clinging desperately to one final fragment of British colonialism.
Anyhow. Look: a Simon game watch. Can you still get Simon these days? It's all about Bop-It now isn't it? If you don't know what Bop-It is, imagine if the original Simon had suffered a breakdown, ran into the road, was struck by a bus, and catapulted into a plumbing supplies store.
Rather than feature light-up buttons, as per the original, the Simon game watch had on-screen arrows, which would point to each button in sequence, while an electronic voice bellowed "THIS!" (actually, it just beeped).
There isn't much more I have to add. Uh... blue buttons, yeah?
Look at that drawing of Link though. What's going on there? Why has he got a shield sporting a crucifix? Since when did Link fight in The Crusades? That'd shake things up - if your goal in Breath of the Wild was to spread Christianity throughout Hyrule. BRRRRRZ-ZZZT!