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It takes more than 3,000 miles of Atlantic to stop the WWF teams from terrorising Europe. They simply got on a plane and flew over it. And now they're here, in historic Europe. Quake in your boots.

Actually, stop quaking now, I was joking. You see, there isn't much to fear from the WWF musclemen. At least not in this game. These seven-foot Goliaths of Death are little more than tiny cartoons with no feel, realism or redeeming features at all. They don't look good, they don't fight well and in fact they're a waste of time.

The Nasty Boys, the Legion of Doom, the self-styled Natural Disasters are all teams of tiny, virtually indistinguishable characters which walk around, miss each other most of the time, and occasionally fall over rather pathetically.

Moving the joystick makes a minor amount of difference to what goes on, but not enough to warrant the expenditure of calories on it. So sit back and watch, as if from a great distance, the ant-like cartoons act out their unholy charade. Unholy isn't the right word actually. Crap is.

It's very difficult to get the players to do any special moves apart from a slow kick that looks like the beginning of a tortoise's mating ritual through the wrong end of a telescope.

It's also impossible to see what's really going on because you're too far from the ring. It's sluggish, you can't do a lot and you end up falling over or kicking the enemy occasionally. What sort of a game is that? Oh, sure, there are special combat talents that you can pick for your men, and you do see a commentator from time to time, but if that's enough to persuade you to buy European Rampage then you should enter into intensive self-analysis to find out why.

1. The manual is an ideal draught excluder for a cat flap.

1. It's rubbish. Avoid it like the beach at Sellafield.