What type of FIFA player are you?

Bet one of your mates €20 they can’t save the child without getting torn apart.

Attempt to befriend the gorillas by giving them some of your strawberry-flavoured chewing gum.

Seek out a zoo official to help get the child out.

Find the parents and berate them for being failures, only resorting to violence if given half a chance.

Leap into the lion enclosure, throw one of the big cats over your shoulder and toss it in with the gorillas, setting up a clash of the titans that will allow the kid to escape.

Take a knife from your sock and slash the ball while laughing maniacally?

Get up in their face and threaten to start tearing legs off if they don’t admit it was a goal, fair and square?

Shrug and keep playing – it’s only a game after all?

Suggest a penalty shoot-out to settle the matter, but add that it might be more interesting with a tenner riding on it?

Suggest a penalty shoot-out to settle the matter?

Talk to him in an overly-familiar manner, ask extremely personal questions and start eating raw meat from his basket.

Politely point out that there’s a queue and he should maybe think about joining it.

Say nothing, but vow to key his car at some point in the future.

Shout, “Oi! Get in the queue!” and belt him round the head with a tin of baked beans.

Slip the nearest item with an alarm tag – booze, razors, whatever – into his bag when he’s not looking so he gets pounced by security when he tries to leave.

Finish your drink and try not to get involved, after all it’s none of your concern.

Invite the newcomer to sit with you and start including them in rounds.

Tear the interloper’s head off and vow to do the same to anyone else who so much as glances at your date.

Start yodelling and pour beer over your head.

Say, “Well, you two look like you’re getting on great. I must be off!” and pat yourself on the back for making the perfect getaway.

Give them the frog you keep in your pocket and send them another one each day for a month.

Offer to work more hours for less money if it’ll save your job.

Flip the table over, rip off your shirt and wipe the fake contrition off their face by tossing them out the window.

Produce the dossier you’ve been compiling for the last few months showing your boss in a number of compromising positions and ask them if they’d like a moment to rethink their decision and, perhaps, give you a raise.

Accept it graciously – after all you don’t want to burn any bridges.

Quietly and patiently knocking the ball about in your own half, keeping possession as much as possible and looking for a sure thing.

Play sloppily for a couple of rounds before asking if anyone fancies a wee wager. You pull out your A-game if anyone falls for it.

Shouting at the telly and grappling with the controller like it’s a wild steer. If you win you’ll bounce it off the ground in triumph, if you lose you’ll bounce it off the wall in frustration.

FIFA hasn’t been the same since they took out the intentional foul button, but you make the most of it. There’s nothing more fun than watching the little men dash around like eejits, scoring improbable goals from their own half and hacking each other down.

You have no idea what you’re doing in FIFA, you only came over for the craic and couldn’t care less about the game. You stab at the buttons, hope for the best and don’t understand why everyone else is so into it.