Mad about the toy: what's this year's Christmas craze?

Standing in a rain-sodden queue for nine hours in early December is, of course, a ridiculous thing to do. This activity, if remaining stationary and drinking hot chocolate, is rendered even more absurd when one considers the following factors: firstly, the object of desire, the prize for which hundreds of people would surrender an entire day, is a games console. And secondly, all the damp people waiting in line have pre-ordered that games console.

But, at Oxford Street's Game on Thursday night, logic gets short shrift. "England win the World Cup," howls the MC, over the hip-hop beats. " Robbie leaves Take That. Microsoft unveils the most advanced games console ever. Where were you? That's what people will ask. Where were you?"

It's 11pm. In the street, in a scene being played out across the country, across Europe indeed, hundreds of gamers are queuing for their Xbox 360 - the newest, shiniest console ever. A group of anaemic-looking young men (and most people in the line fit this demographic) are chanting: "We was there! We was there!"

Indeed they were. And Kevin Sage, a 33-year-old mobile disc jockey, was there first. A rotund man with strangely lithe fingers like a masseur's, Mr Sage has been waiting with his young niece since 2.45pm. Why?

"It's been worth it for the atmosphere alone," he says. " We've met so many new friends here. We're going to know them for a long, long time now. We've all swapped e-mail addresses and gaming tags, so it's going to be very cool."

Tonight's vigil marks the culmination of a three-month odyssey for Mr Sage. He placed his order, like many in the queue, in early September. Since booking his golden ticket, he has phoned the Xbox 360 people once a week to check his machine is still coming. He phoned Microsoft seven times last week alone. "There are some amazing stories here tonight," Mr Sage says, mistily. "My friend's dad had a heart attack today, and my friend still made it. His dad's going to be OK, but he's still in hospital. His dad said to him, 'You've got to go.'"

Clearly, the Xbox 360 is not just another console. Up and down the queue, punters talk excitably about the "next generation" machine. " This is different to anything that's been made before," says Mohammed Akram, a 17-year-old student. Mr Akram's been waiting since 5.30pm. "I didn't really play Xbox, but I'll wait in line for this." Marcos Frumin, 25, is working on the construction of Heathrow Terminal 5. When he has a day off, he's looking forward to playing the Xbox 360 for 14 or 15 hours at a time. "When I'm gaming, all I have is my beers and my console," he says. "No one bothers even talking to me."

Simon Arnold, a 36-year-old television producer, has taken tomorrow off work so that he can try out PGR Racing on his new machine.

"I've never pre-ordered a console before," says Mr Arnold. " But I just want to make sure I get my hands on this one."

Leanne Graham, 20, doesn't even like gaming, but she is in the queue. " I'm a gamer's widow," she says. "For the past few weeks I haven't heard anything apart from Xbox 360. This will make him so happy."

What has worried the assembled throng is that if they had not turned up tonight, they might not have had their Xbox 360, pre-ordered or not, before Christmas. The 300,000 consoles, which cost between £210 and £280, have been rolled out across Europe for the launch. But many shops are worried that they do not have enough consoles to satisfy demand. And they may have reason to worry. In the US, where the same excitement surrounded the launch a week earlier, the consoles sold out well before demand was satisfied.

Of course, creating a brouhaha about dwindling supplies is a well-worn tactic for retailers looking to create a feeding frenzy. Although Microsoft denies deliberately managing a shortfall, one only has to look at the press coverage generated by Buzz Lightyear and Furby shortages in Christmases past to know how successful this tactic can be.

But, thank God, everyone here tonight will get their Xbox 360. And, as the clock ticks round to 11.30pm, when the shop will open its doors, the excitement is palpable.

The moment arrives. The veil outside Game is whipped away. In the glare of the world's media - well, some of them, at least - Kevin Sage falls to his knees and prays (at least semi-seriously) to his new god. His niece gives him a hand up.

The euphoria flattens, though, as our hardy gamers are forced to wait for another half an hour before the sale starts at midnight.

As an MC whips them up once more, Mr Sage gives interviews to foreign camera crews as his niece stands by, looking a little bemused by the attention. The clock strikes midnight. The boxes are handed over. For many here tonight, it is the start of a very serious relationship.

Remember when all you wanted was...

Tracy Island, 1992 & 2000

Why? In 1992, the Thunderbirds programmes from the 1960s were screened again, sparking a huge rush to buy replicas of the string-operated international rescuers' base. Tracy Island fever struck once again in 2000, when the canny toy-makers implanted a microchip, and a whole new generation of pliant children demanded their very own lump of plastic.

Priceless? In 1992, parents would have gladly sold their least favourite child for a Tracy Island. Now, you can pick a 1992 model up for £10.55 on eBay.

Teletubby, 1997

Why? The Tellytubbies - Tinky Winky, Dipsy, Laa Laa and Ringo - shot to fame in 1997, when their brand of high-pitched enthusiasm first hit the airwaves. Tinky Winky went down a storm in the gay community.

Priceless? It wasn't so much what they cost - around £9 a doll - but the peril involved in securing one. One shopper in Dundee was admitted to hospital with pneumonia after a marathon wait. Now, a singing and dancing Laa Laa can be found on eBay for a couple of quid.

Transformer, 1985

Why? Everyone could appreciate the simple pleasure of a robot in disguise and in 1985 the biggest, nastiest one, Optimus Prime, was the prize catch.

Priceless? Optimus was a slippery beast, but you could lay your hands on him for a tenner. Now a collector's item, he retails online for £20.

Buzz Lightyear, 1996

Why? Toy Story, Pixar's pioneering animation, not only broke box office records everywhere, it also had huge franchise potential. In 1996, every child, and a few adults too, wanted their own Buzz Lightyears, as sales of the 8in figurine went to infinity and beyond.

Priceless? To take home Buzz in 1996, you didn't need much cash (around £20) but you did need to be lucky. Now you'll find an unloved Buzz in any charity shop in the country.

Micro Scooter, 2000

Why? In 2000, the Micro Scooter banished commuting difficulties for little girls everywhere. They were worth their campaign of pavement terror just to see out-of-breath fathers nervously jogging after their daughters on Boxing Day.

Priceless? Micros sold for around £70 in 2000, but their stock has diminished so violently that you can now pick up a brand new scooter for £20 on eBay.

Cabbage Patch Dolls, 1984

Why? Children "adopted" these ugly creatures with worrying glee in an unprecedented rush that had mothers fighting each other in department stores.

Priceless? At the time, the look on your child's face at Christmas was worth every pint of blood spilt, but now they go for $2.99 on eBay.

Game Boy, 1991

Why? Because you could play Tetris until your thumbs went numb. The Game Boy was the king of portable consoles and seemed unbelievably sophisticated when it arrived in 1991.

Priceless? At the height of a recession in 1991, Game Boys still flew off the shelves at £70. Now selling on eBay for £1.20, you'll be lucky to find anyone willing to take a 1991 model off your hands.

Furby, 1998

Why? Who knows? Furbies were small, furry bundles who talked to each other in Furbish and sometimes to their owners in English. Cute, but ultimately shallow creatures, they delighted children and horrified parents over the 1998 and 1999 Christmases.

Priceless? Even in 1998, at the height of Furby Fever, £30 seemed a bit steep for something that would ultimately become too irritating to share a house with. Today's £9.10 asking price on eBay seems more reasonable.

Robosapien, 2004

Why? Because it was every schoolboy's fantasy toy. As Jonathan Ross put it so eloquently last year: "Kids, if you wake up on Christmas morning and you don't have a Robosapien under the tree, your parents don't love you."

Priceless? £80's not bad for a walking, talking robot. You can buy last year's model on eBay for £40.

Sylvanian Families, 1987

Why? Sylvanian Families was a toy for anyone who has ever wondered what would happen if you let a fox and a chicken share a house - and then dressed them in Victorian clothing. This odd idea won the prestigious Toy of the Year award in 1987, 1988, 1989.

Priceless? The beauty of SF was that, depending on your financial situation, you could buy as much or as little as you wanted. Feeling flush? Buy the lot. Strapped? Buy a rabbit in dungarees. And the novelty still hasn't worn off - hundreds of Sylvanian Family items change hands on eBay every year.