Live chatting with fucky girls
No one is 100% certain how bullshit the cases are, but in 2005 a doctor giving evidence in a homicidal sleepwalking trial in the UK stated that there had been 68 worldwide so far.68 cases of sleeping people getting up in the night and battering people to death while still sleeping.Since most sleepwalking activities are non-violent, largely sandwich-construction- or wardrobe-confused-for-toilet based, pretty much all of these cases are viewed as a bit suss.This is because it’s obviously a pretty convenient excuse for killing someone, but sometimes these people are not lying – they have genuinely committed terrible crimes while asleep and awoken in a car covered in someone else’s blood.about murdering people, you’re more likely to do a murder while awake.In a 300-word epilogue, set centuries after the human race implodes after a war fought through hurt Facebook messages which are seen but not replied to, aliens piece together what human beings were really like when they uncover the rubble of Google headquarters in an epic dig they broadcast across their alien planet like a grainy moon landing for alien schoolchildren in front of alien TVs.Delicate equipment, the design of which the story’s author lazily assumes H R Giger got 80 per cent right, pulls back the tennis courts, the remains of the massive Perspex logo letters, the beanbags and the squash courts and they find the equivalent of the crashed human race’s black box: every email yanked back at the final second by Gmail’s “Undo Send” function.With their slimy mandibles and claws, they push aside the billions of job applications we forgot to attach our CVs to, and they find the confessions of love and hate and opinions about Tories and how they’re all right, actually, that we were too afraid to send.
I have found weird fruit and tiny apples in my bed that weren’t in my house when I went to sleep.
Aunts will for once use their phone as an actual phone and want to know why they are listed under “AVOID”.
Ex-boyfriends (“USELESS WANKERS”) will realise your current affable friendship is a sham.
A glitch at Twitter HQ – caused by a lukewarm instant coffee in a polystyrene cup, knocked carelessly by an employee’s butt into a mainframe or whatever – pours billions of half-formed ideas into millions of Twitter timelines while we sleep.
All the false starts, the half-sentences formed before you lost your train of thought or will to live, or stuffed your phone in your pocket; all the ones you wrote in the work toilet but didn’t send in case people noticed that you weren’t at your desk and were thus clearly shitting and tweeting at the same time; all the ones you typed at 3am in the dark, the timestamp universally agreed to be a hallmark of our most regrettable tweets; all the fully formed tweets that said what you wanted to say – the ones where your thumb hovered over the Publish button but never pushed it; the ones where you brought Nazis into an argument unrelated to Hitler.