Tag, but with obstacles. Extreme obstacles. Invented by the maniacs at London’s Chainstore Parkour Academy, World Chase Tag comes in single, multiplayer and winner-stays-on flavours, all designed to have you vaulting and wall-dashing over boxes and rails at worrying speed.
Why it’s amazing: It’s that foot-chase from Casino Royale… but you’re Bond! Or the other guy who’s more coordinated.
As featured in the World Eskimo Indian Olympics and practised in the Highlands (with a shepherd’s crook), Mas-wrestling couldn’t be simpler: two men hold onto one stick, wedge their feet against a board, and go all-out to yank each other off the floor and over the divider. It’s yet to to achieve the ubiquity of ping-pong or table football, but you can always buy your own set – or, let’s be honest, get the raw materials from Homebase for a fiver.
Why it’s amazing: More tactical than arm-wrestling, less HR-baiting than an actual fight, it’s the perfect way to assert office dominance: “Remoaner, am I, Jeremy? Let’s settle this… at the Mas board.“
Developed – of course – by Danish Situationists attempting to refine Marxian dialectics, three-sided football is the beautiful game but with three teams and a hexagonal pitch. The winner is the team that concedes the least goals, leading to an ever-shifting series of alliances, betrayals and long-term grudge-holding.
Why it’s amazing: It’s a boot-based, real-time Risk: on-the-hoof negotiation is key, and the fluctuating allegiances means even terrible teams can’t get too badly hammered.
Kendo? Too formal. Fencing? Too two-dimensional. Search your feelings: you know what you actually want is to grab yourself a custom-built GCS Vector, gear up like a hockey goalie, and go full-blown Vader on another human. The Saber Legion insist on you learning the two-handed Shii Cho before anything else, but then there’s curved weapons, cross-guard variations, dual-wielding… such depth, Hugo, yah?
Why it’s amazing: With only the neck, groin and hilt-punching really off-limits, it’s possibly the most realistic version of sword-fighting you can do. Plus, the sabres actually make the pssshhhew sound, so you don’t have to
Okay: wrestling is not actually a sport. But Lucha Libre, the Mexican version, demands much more conditioning, agility and gymnastic ability than its American counterpart. Even if a springboard lionsault seems out of the question, London-based Lucha Britannia’s three-hour fitness class has to be more fun than underwater spinning, or whatever else sales are doing to get in shape for #Marbs2017. Doesn’t it?
Why it’s amazing: It’s a confidence booster as well as a workout: if you’re prepared to deliver a monologue as Don Sombrero (or whatever), that second interview’s bound to be easier.
The skinny-jeaned corpse of 2007 indie is risen and dragging its battered Converse to a venue near you