
I'm a ferocious insomniac. Anything can keep me awake. The credit crisis, an upsetting Prime Time report, the smell of my own farts, cheese, the hag, existential dread, the anticipation of my alarm going off, the torturous replaying of alternative versions of humiliating incidents from earlier in the day, credit card bills, peaking oil stocks and how long it will be until we are all scrabbling through the post-apocalyptic ruins of the IFSC splintering our fingernails on unopened tins of Whiskas in the nuclear half-light. Y'know, all the usual sort of stuff. To make matters worse my bedroom [...]