Laser tag - the infrared duelling game rather than the trademarked product with the real cool Z - is quite the fun thing (especially if you're too scared to have your precious baby skin smarted by airsoft and paintball pellets).

I owned a Photon set, which I bought from the Brent Cross Toys R Us in 1988, blowing my entire wages for the month in one impulse purchase. It was a big, bulky, ridiculous thing, and I only ever got to play with it about twice, because - frankly - where was I going to play it, and with whom?

Mr Hairs and I were invited to cover the opening of a laser tag centre in Wembley during the Digitiser years, only to be frustrated by the actions of one particular player, who failed to enter into the fantasy of it all and won the game by a significant margin. He wandered around imagining he was a Terminator, and will probably spent the rest of his life feeling really good about himself for ruining everyone else's day. I still hate him.

Heck, I even got a Sega Lock-On as my leaving present when I left Teletext to write Digitiser full-time from home. I played it once, in the Teletext car park, on my last day. And that was the end of my laser tag story, until a couple of years ago when I played it again at a leisure centre in Swanage, or somewhere.

Somehow, the reality of laser tag has never been as fun as the fantasy. Here are ten images which demonstrate this fact.

Are you old enough to remember Computer Club? Do schools even have computer clubs now, given that modern children are handed a high-powered gaming laptop and a smartphone the second they're born, and told not to bother their parents until they're old enough to go to the pub with them?

Back in the '80s and '90s, school computer clubs were the only way most pupils had access to the sort of computers that their parents could never afford to have at home - the BBC Micro, or a nice PC for example. Well, unless those parents were posh parents. The less said about them the better.

Here are ten things that happened in every Computer Club throughout the country.

Sir Clive Sinclair was the King of Inventing.

Without his genius for making small, black, boxes that were more or less affordable we'd never have had the ZX Spectrum - and the computer game boom of the 1980s. Sir Clive may not have imagined he would ignite the imaginations of countless bedroom coders, but by design or accident his beautiful device brought joy to millions. 

​Here's a brief tribute to the great man - along with ten things you might not have known about him.