A friend
My friend Steve (aka the vegan who hates vegetables), who hails from one of Manchester's tinier suburbs, has had many memorable sleepwalking incidents. Unlike some of you lot, he actually manages the feat without the aid of alcohol (oh, he drinks; it's just usually not what's responsible for the nocturnal wanderings). Yes, he's had a piss in bed (on his wife's leg). He's also fallen down the stairs at 4 a.m. He's also gone into the kitchen and started up a pot of spaghetti which nearly burned the house down.

But the highlight performance was the time his wife awoke to the sound of muffled banging from the bedroom closet. She wandered over, and was greeted by the sight of all her clothes on the floor, Steve stark naked, holding a hammer in his hand, and a couple of nails in his mouth. Three old shelves were torn down, and he was nailing up a new one. ``Steve, what the hell are you doing?,'' she inquired quite reasonably. ``What the fuck does it look like? I'm making you a new cupboard just like you asked*, you cunt!,'' he replied.Strangely, it was a few weeks later that she filed for divorce.

*she hadn't.
(tuqueboy has been in a medically -induced coma since, Mon 27 Aug 2007, 1:55, Reply)