Bolivian coup sleepwalk
When I was 16, I went through a period of sleepwalking and doing strange things. On one occasion, I made a model of the Cutty Sark out of toothpicks. On another, I painted a replica of the Sistine Chapel frescoes on my bedroom ceiling using my own ordure. Neither of these were particularly odd when compared to the oddest occasion.

On 11 October 1988, I got up in the night, got dressed, walked to the train station and caught a late train to London. Here, I used my dad's credit card to book a flight to Bolivia. Still sleeping, I boarded the flight and enjoyed the in-fight meal.

On arrival, I set up an anti-government political group and became a rebel figurehead in a very short time. Within weeks, I was on the verge of a landslide election victory. That's when my family saw me on TV - still wearing my pajamas (which had become a cult uniform for my Bolivian followers). They flew out to get me, but this caused riots in the streets and martial war was declared.

Finally, my mother used the old trick of holding a phial of chlorine gas under my nose and I awoke, utterly bemused, amid the screaming crowds.

OK. That's made up. I pissed in the wardrobe
(frankspencer, Wed 29 Aug 2007, 9:59, Reply)