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I thought of you last night
Normally I sleep pretty well. I suppose that despite being incredibly old, a wicked sinner and a pervert to boot, a corrupter of youth, a destroyer of families and the guy least likely to win the national lottery I don't really have a lot to worry about.

So not sleeping too good for a couple of nights came as a surprise. I tried all the usual remedies, having a wank, counting sheep and so on but they didn't work. It was too late to knock back five or six pints of house lager but then I hit on the brilliant idea of trying to remember the names of everyone I'd ever made it with.

I have to say it wasn't easy but I did manage to dredge up quite a long list of names and I also have to say that it did work. Within two hours I was fast asleep dreaming about some of the names on the list. The only drawback is that I believe that the brain was designed by some prehistoric visitor from nebula 69 with a passion for genetic engineering, and once it has been asked to carry out a sort through it's database, it won't stop until it has finished the task.

Although I got to sleep the first night, the following day, names kept suddenly bobbing up into my mind and a short description of what kind of activity went with the name. This actually produced a red face as I drove down Chiswick High road and remembered what I did with someone called Joseph in a multistorey car park in Watford. Even worse the following night I couldn't sleep again and these dammed names were still emerging.

It really does seem that the brain remembers everything. Eventually it started throwing up those cases where it couldn't produce a name but tried to help by a giving a prompt with some background information. These took the form of brief file identifiers such as 'barman from a pub somewhere near the Thames at Putney' 'instantly fell asleep'. 'only wanted a bed for the night' or ' skinny, funny looking oriental with a wonderful massage technique' 

The only way I was going to get to sleep was to actually try to remember the names that went with these highs and lows of my sexual life. I know that I did have a name for all of them once, Call me old fashioned but I do think that a name makes even the briefest of encounter more meaningful. I did manage a few and then decided the best way of sorting the whole thing out was to allocate new names and wonder of wonders they disappeared back into the memory. 

The difficulty is that if I try using this sleep inducing technique again, I will have great difficulty believing that Rupert was a skinny oriental guy with a great massage technique. If anyone out there remembers his real name perhaps they will let me know so I can get my files sorted out

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