Clocks
Dan Dan Dan's story reminded me of the time I stayed over at a colleague's house one night after a few too many beers. He lived at home with his (mad) Mum.

She collected clocks, lots and lots of the bastards. The living room must have had about twenty or thirty clocks, all ticking and tocking out of synch. The noise was incredible. All the other rooms had clocks too, everywhere, even the fucking bathroom.

Worst nights sleep ever. Christ knows how he puts up with it.
(mr-lizard Hell's teeth man!, Tue 26 Jul 2011, 20:55, 1 reply)

Constant cacophony
...I could get used to. My worst clock-related night's sleep was many years ago when I stayed overnight with a young lady (on the sofa, I hasten to add) who had one of those clocks which runs ball-bearings along tracks and levers to indicate the time.

Completely silent except for a clack-whirrr-click every minute. Then a clack-whirr-clickety-click-clack every 5 minutes, then on the hour a clack-whirr-clickety-clackety-clack-click-clonk-click. And at midnight, it dumps every ball in a veritable Niagara of clickety-clackety.

And then silence again... is it a minute yet? Now? How about now? No, that must be more like thirty seconds. Now?

It was like Chinese water torture.
( Amish Information Systems hates misplaced, commas, Wed 27 Jul 2011, 6:40, closed)