By rights, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles should've had their moment, but they seem to be going stronger than ever. A new movie, a new video game, and tons of new merchandise suggests there's plenty of life left in the so-called "Heroes in a Conch-Shell".

To celebrate, we've put together this list of bad TMNT cosplay. Unfortunately, it is slightly too long - but we promise to reward your patience with a picture of a goose. 

The adventures of Nathan Drake are over. Uncharted 4: A Thief's End is - as far as developer Naughty Dog is concerned - the final game in the series. 

It's the biggest PlayStation brand there is - nearly 30 million copies of the games have shipped to date. Sony's faith in the franchise is underlined by the unprecedented marketing spend on Uncharted. There's supposedly a movie in development. Nathan Drake voice actor Nolan North has said he'd gladly continue as the character, if Sony decided to go forward with further instalments.

Can this really be the end in an industry where money talks, and sure things are hard to come by?

Read on for my spoiler-filled trousers (assessment).

Do you remember Biker Mice From Mars? It was a cartoon, like so many others of the era, that tried to capture the same lightning-in-a-bottle that had seen the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - "Hero" Turtles in the UK, lest we forget - explode into a full-fat phenomenon.

If I recall, Biker Mice From Mars was shown on the Big Breakfast in the UK, and there was a huge media launch party for the series. Which I was lucky enough to go to, because Konami was releasing a tie-in video game. I remember absolutely nothing else about the event, other than I came away with a free t-shirt, that was too big for me...

Yeah. I know it's not the best anecdote in the world, but it's all I've got. They can't all be the one where I dropped a whoopee cushion on John Leslie...

Like most people, back in the mid-90s I was a fan of DJ Chris Evans, before his ego and arrogance spiralled out of control. He rightly disappeared for the best part of a decade, before reinventing himself as the BBC's safe pair of hands. 

You wouldn't want to be him this morning. Or, indeed, him at any point over the past six months.

The knives have been out in quite spectacular style for the man who plucked the Mantle of Clarkson from inbetween the split lips of an assistant producer; the usual media outlets - looking for any excuse to kick the BBC in the thighs - have been willing Top Gear to fail ever since Clarkson, May and Hammond departed. 

Suffice to say, the social media response to last night's revamped Top Gear was typically reactionary... bemoaning Evans' shouting, the awkward studio links, and the lack of chemistry between him and Matt LeBlanc - all things that can be sorted out given time. Pilot shows - and first ep of the new Top Gear can be considered a pilot - are rarely the best episode of a series. 

Evans is nowhere this morning. He's taken the week off of his generally affable radio show, and isn't on Twitter. And you can't blame him; he's been in the media game long enough to be able to predict exactly what was going to happen today:

• top gear is utter shite
• Get your ego under control and STOP SHOUTING. Oh, and the show was shit.
• Knob..........
• One you should wear a hat to cover up the ginger crop. Two you should keep your mouth shut

And so on. Whatever you think of Evans, something you absolutely have to give him credit for is that he has handled the unprecedented grief he's been getting with something approaching superhuman levels of restraint.

Even if you believe reports that he's been bullying people to the point of tears, and waggling his penis at every passing crew member, not once - publicly - has he lapsed into "Woe is me" whingeing. And last week it transpired that he's been managing to do so while his mother battles cancer. 

Games people could learn a lot from him.

If you've ever come out of a long-term relationship, you might've experienced a brief period of wondering who the hell you actually are.

Ideally, a good life goal is finding someone who you love, with whom you don't have to compromise, because you agree on more or less everything. And anything you don't agree about you don't really care about anyway.

​Unfortunately, too many of us end up settling, and having to compromise and squash down who we are, just for the sake of a quiet life. 

Case in point: when I first got my own place I didn't know how to decorate it. I didn't know what my style was. I bought a melting Salvador Dali clock, and stuck it on a shelf. I bought a Buddha head statue. A Moroccan-style lamp. Some Lego. Nothing was gelling.

A divorcee mate of mine has framed prints of various album covers on the walls of his house. I decided that, well, maybe that was the sort of thing I wanted up in my home too; I love music. Time to express that visually.

To this end, I bought a print of the gatefold artwork from the first Marillion album, Script For a Jester's Tear. It's a painting of a grimy bedsit, with the titular harlequin peering out of a window, as he attempts to write a love song. It's achingly pretentious.

Years ago, I was - briefly - semi-hot stuff in TV comedy circles. I had no fewer than three comedy pilots on the go, and most people I met assumed I was going to be The Next Big Thing in British comedy.

As you are probably aware, I never became The Next Big Thing in British comedy. One of my pilots simply wasn't good enough, and one of them was just too weird. And one of them - the one I think of as The One That Got Away, which had been precision-tooled to be a long-running replacement for My Family - got verbally greenlit for a series by BBC One controller Peter Fincham.... only for him to resign literally the next day over the BBC's misrepresentation of the Queen, before he had time to sign the paperwork.

Yes, that's right: like something out of Alan Partridge.

The show was then thrown into limbo for a year while a new controller was sought. They eventually commissioned a sitcom with an almost identical premise. The creator of that show once told me that she'd been shown my pilot by someone high up in BBC Comedy, and been asked "Can you make something like this?".

So instead of becoming incredibly rich and successful, I wrote Pudsey The Dog: The Movie, and ploughed a furrow in the lower-paid realm of kids TV. Where, frankly, I feel more at home than I ever had in the world of grown-up telly anyway.

A few years back, early one morning, I got into the car, and pulled away from the house, en route to a meeting. Immediately, I knew something was wrong. Horrible grinding sounds and a car leaning atypically to the left are usually an indication of a badness.

​I parked opposite the house. Leading to the car, from where I'd pulled away, was a worrying, inch-deep gouge in the road. This was a consequence, I discovered, of having had my front offside wheel stolen in the night. They'd been professional about it; at least the car had been propped up on a brick, like they do in cartoons.

My immediate concern was that I might've damaged the axel somehow; the back plate had ploughed a furrow in the tarmac, taking the full weight of the car. Fortunately, there was a mechanic's garage at the top of the road, and so I dashed the 200 yards or so up there to see if somebody would be kind enough to give my Jocelyn a quick once-over. Jocelyn was the name of my car.

The garage shutters were down, but there was a light on in the office next door. I knocked, and it was answered by a shifty-looking young man who was smoking a cigarette. 

I can remember the day I first learned about Knight Lore.

I was already a fan of Ultimate Play The Game's back catalogue; if you were a Spectrum owner, it was kind of required by law. Regrettably, I probably enjoyed them more in theory than in practice.

I liked the art, I liked the way the packaging made them all feel part of a collection. I liked the company logo. In reality, I'm not sure I ever finished one of their games, as they were maddeningly, arse-clenchingly, tough... though that was probably true of most games back them.

It was as if I liked the idea of games more than the games we actually had, and was basically waiting for technology to catch up with me.

There had been isometric games before, of course - Zaxxon, Marble Madness, Ant Attack, Iso Solly (bit racist) - but Knight Lore felt like a preview of the future.

I'd taken a copy of a magazine - probably Your Sinclair - over to a friend's house, to show him the screenshots of this astonishing new game they were covering. That's the impact Knight Lore had on me; I needed to show people, to share in it, because I could scarcely wrap the moist flaps of my brain around it.

Arriving on the crest of a hype-wave, Overwatch is being pimped as the next big thing in team-based online shooters. 

After a little difficulty actually getting to play the game - thanks for that, massive day one patch - I've now spent a bit of time with the game. Unfortunately, I decided to give my early opinions to a bunch of sloths, and they just looked at me like they were simple, or something...

It was the wigged artist Andy Narwhal who said that "In the future, everyone will be followed by Nolan Bushnell for 15 minutes".

​Indeed, our own "brush with the Bush'" came last week, when for three giddy, dizzying days, Digitiser2000's Mr Biffo became one of the "Bushy Babes", ascending the golden steps to be another of the 40,000 or so people Bushnell - founder of Atari, creator of Pong - follows on Twitter.

Of course, it wasn't to last. Ever the businessman, The Bush doesn't stick around. He's a social media gadabout, luring the unsuspecting onto onto his glutinous inner thighs, before swatting them aside.

They say that "once you've Bushed there's no going back". ​Indeed, since being dropped so cruelly, Biffo has thought about little else. He tosses and turns at night, murmuring "Why, Nolan, wh-whu-whhhyy?!?", and wondering about the sorts of people, things and animals that might plug the yawning hole in his heart...

Cartoons aren't what they were. Back in the day they simply existed to sell toys... which was fine with me. 

Remember that 80s show, 'S.T.R.I.N.G. Cops'? It stood for 'String Theory Running INvestigation Group (Cops)'. It was about a breakaway division of the police, that was obsessed with string theory: Sergeant Rope, Lieutenant Cord, and Billy Twine - the 12 year-old physics whizz.

They'd travel the country in their special van arresting crooked professors who were teaching an erroneous version of string theory, and looking into string theory-related mysteries.

In the episode The Curious Case of the String Theory Ghost, the gang camped out at a university where a poltergeist was rubbing quantum theory equations off the blackboards, and filling the faculty lounge with pictures of the Austrian physicist Ludwig Boltzmann.

The team was based in the Hertfordshire market town of String (Tring), their favourite musical artist was String (Sting) - who also provided the show's theme tune - and at the end of every episode, Billy Twine would make another hilarious, string-related pun; "Another successful stringvestigation!" or "Careful, professor - talking like that is going to make everyone think you're stringsecure!".

​And so on.