I didn’t go to have a look at David Blaine when he supposedly starved himself in a box whilst in London. I was in London at the time, but I figured it was nothing special… people have gone without food for longer, mostly because they had no choice… anyway, he could have been cheating.

Now water, there’s a fast I’d like to see him do. Apparently the average human can last only several days (depending upon heat/humidity etc.). I think he should try 40.

That said, I did see that a Nepalese Buddhist teenager is claiming to have not had a drop for six months. The scientist in me remains skeptical. 

Sleep deprivation is, however, a far more legitimate sport. The world record stands at 18 days, 21 hours, 40 minutes, according to the Australian National Research Project, although no names are given. 

It is known that Randy Gardner managed a rather impressive 264 hours… which puts my meagre 60 hour stint to shame.

Of course, David Blaine went without sleep many a night suspended in a box by the Thames. As a nation we were angry about the Iraq war and he supplied us with a clear American target on which to vent our collective frustrations… I think it worked too.

Perhaps, after he’s been water-fasting for 40 days, the next time you do something wrong, you should send us a sacrificial entertainer in a perspex cell.

I could probably count the number of times I have slept alone in the last decade on my fingers – that’s not a boast, merely a statement of dependency.

The lovely Em has gone to visit her clan this week, and unfortunately I was unable to accompany her. This has given me the time and opportunity to learn a few things about myself as I rattle around my house.

The first thing I noticed was that I’m a creature of habit over experience. I still sit in the same place, a rather petulant futon, instead of using Em’s now vacant armchair, which is clearly better placed, television-wise, as well as being far more comfortable.

Then there’s sleeping … I’m incapable of sleeping in silence. This wouldn’t be such a problem if I didn’t have conservative hearing (trying out some new euphemisms for deafness, others include, ‘muffed hearing’, ‘insensitive ears’ and ‘sonically challenged’… the last of which sounds more like a Sega game). I need someone within my range to drift off. I’m not talking about snoring… Em is not a snorer, nor a tolerator of snorers… more the normal sounds a human makes when they’re not making any other noises.

Even using talk radio as a substitute, I still find it hard to slumber and what’s more I worry about the effect it is having on me. I don’t like the idea of my subconscious being infiltrated by mostly right-wing, Daily Mail-esque shows. For the first time in my life I have found myself worrying about immigrants and the Germans, and wondering if everyone on my street is carrying a weapon of some sort.

And so, whilst it has been nice to learn something about myself, I have to admit that I can’t wait for her to return. I’m just hoping that I haven’t turned into a sleep-starved, paranoid dictator in her absence.

It’s not a stereotype and it’s true what they say, that up here we drink coffee but down there it’s latte.

Paul Erdos said something about mathematicians being machines for converting coffee into theorems, but right now I’m managing to fashion it into the new Transplant Comics homepage.

It’s early days, and I’m still ironing things out, but I’d be happy for some feedback. I mean you’re all seasoned webcomic readers, right?

For those of you that use an RSS reader, there’s even a new all-in-one Transplant Comics RSS feed. You’ll be able to get the whole bundle in under three clicks.

And feel free to check out the other comics. They’re really good, and I’m not going to get that jealous…

There are generally two types of people – those that sleep naked and those that don’t. I belong to the former, or at least I used to… I appear to have discovered the mythical ‘third type’ of people.

Whilst I like to sleep au naturel, I always take something to wear when staying with friends and family. Apart from not wanting to be caught in my altogether by an elderly relative… in fact any relative, it makes sense as some of my friends have an interesting concept of hygiene and cleanliness. I once awoke to find I had been bitten to shreds by fleas and, after pointing this out at breakfast, I was told, ‘that’ll be because the dog usually sleeps in that bed’.

…you can understand why it was a shock, when staying with a friend the other week, to wake up starkers.

And so the third type of people – these are the ones that go to sleep clothed, but wake up divested.

I don’t know how I manage to do it, and I’m certainly not conscious of it, but it seems that if my body believes I have forgot to get undressed, it will do it for me.

This is a worrying development and after discovering this fact I have been unable to fall asleep on public transport.

P.S. Title included, I managed to get five synonyms for ‘naked’ into this post, that’s just two less than I used in my biochemistry finals.

Sometimes I wonder if my fondness for burning the midnight oil is increasing my carbon footprint.

And whilst I mostly make that statement in jest, the truth is that working by electrical light can’t be ideal, environmentally.

And so: Go to bed, get some sleep, save the world.