As Lucy Berkley hobbled into her London office one Monday morning in June, her colleagues could clearly see she was struggling with back pain.
The 44-year-old company director shuffled over to her desk and waited for questions to be fired in her direction. Had she picked up a large piece of furniture? Overdone it at the gym? The real answer was slightly more embarrassing.
'I'd just discovered Candy Crush and had been playing it for more than ten hours over the weekend,' says the mother-of-one from Ashford, Kent.
'My back became strained because I'd been hunched for so long over my iPad. I couldn't help it, it was so addictive. The extraordinary thing was that almost everyone else in the room admitted they too were addicted. Now we're all competing.'
Unlike so many online games, it doesn't involve killing, fighting or strong male characters or highly-sexualised female characters. What's more, it's deceptively simple and fun.'
The rules of Candy Crush are indeed simple. Players move a variety of brightly coloured sweets - or candies - around a grid and line up at least three of the same sweet in a row.
Every time a row is completed, the line explodes, making way for more sweets to drop in.
With more than 400 different stages, each more difficult than the last, and more being added all the time, players never need run out of challenges. As a so-called 'freemium' product, basic access to the game is free, but users must pay for 'premium' services. Players aren't charged to advance through the first 35 levels but after that, it costs 69p for another 20 levels, although it is possible to avoid paying by asking your Facebook friends to send you extra lives.
However, the cost can rise as players are encouraged to buy 'boosters' such as virtual 'candy hammers' for around £1.
'I'll have a sneaky game or two at lunchtime. When I get home, I'll leave the ironing or the housework and have half an hour - or more - on the iPad'
According to ThinkGaming, Candy Crush makes an estimated £400,000 a day for King. That's £146m a year, figures which have prompted the Office of Fair Trading to voice concern that guidelines are needed to stop firms exploiting young users.
King claims that 90 per cent of its players are over 21, but maturity doesn't seem to prevent women like Lucy from falling under Candy Crush's spell.
'I call it "crack candy" because I imagine giving up is like trying to break a crack habit,' says Lucy. 'I hadn’t heard of it until I saw that many friends - all intelligent, creative women - were playing it on Facebook.'
She admits: 'I've never played any other game on my phone. But I don't like going a day without my "fix". I play it whenever I have a free moment. In the morning I play on my commute and when I look around the train, nearly every other person seems to be doing the same.
'I'll have a sneaky game or two at lunchtime. When I get home, I’ll leave the ironing or the housework and have half an hour - or more - on the iPad.'
But it's at the weekend that Lucy says her gaming becomes more of a problem. 'Once I’ve got up and read the papers, I'll start playing and that’s me sorted for the next three to four hours. In fact, I only usually stop when my iPad runs out of battery. My boyfriend thinks I'm mad.
'My son Ben, who is at boarding school, can't understand my obsession. I've been known to meet him off a train and rather than give him a hug I've said: "Just a minute Ben, I’m just getting on to the next level!"
Over the past four months I've probably spent around £150 playing it. But it's worth it.'
Steph Brophy, 37, a bank worker from West Malling, Kent is another Candy Crush addict. She started playing only five weeks ago, but says she’s already losing sleep over it.
'I'm thinking about it all the time,' says mother-of-one Steph, who lives with partner Martin. 'I wake up and the first thing I do is pick up my phone to have a game, then I'll be playing if I get a spare second before work.
'I play it on my walk from the car to the office. When I come home, I play it while I'm cooking the evening meal or watching TV. Martin thinks I'm bonkers. When the lights go out and we're in bed he'll say: "I know you’re playing it because I can see the light from your phone" so I have to play it under the covers.
'My son asks: "Why are you playing that game again Mum?" It's as if our roles have been reversed. It's taking over my life. I don't know if I’ll ever be able to stop.'
'Housework has gone to pot. I've even been late picking my ten-year-old up from school because I've been stuck on a level'
So is Candy Crush as benign as it looks? Psychologists say that 'freemium' games can be an insidious route to more serious gambling problems.
'On first look, games like Candy Crush may not seem to have much connection to gambling, but the psychology is very similar,' says Prof Mark Griffiths. 'Even when games do not involve money, they introduce players to the principles and excitement of gambling. Small unpredictable rewards lead to highly engaged, repetitive behaviour. In a minority, this may lead to addiction.'
Jenni Weaver, a 40-year-old mum of four from Bridlington, is worried that she's addicted.
'I'm playing it for eight hours a day now and it's become a real problem,’ she says. 'My daughter told me about it. I was hooked straight away. The longest I've played for is 12 hours with just a few short breaks in between. It's worse than smoking.'
Jenni says her addiction is beginning to affect family life.
'Housework has gone to pot. I've even been late picking my ten-year-old up from school because I've been stuck on a level.
'I've burnt countless dinners and let vegetables boil dry because I've been engrossed. I'm trying to limit myself, but I can still spend eight hours a day playing it. It's ridiculous.'
It seems that if they're not careful, some players may soon find the sweet taste of Candy Crush turning rather sour.
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