Somewhere in the rut of last winters bleak and eternal hopelessness, I had my annual creativity crisis. Huffing and puffing at the barren wilderness of revision for finals, I realised it was time to take action, to do something radical, quirky, and totally unexpected. It would also make me fabulously rich, and I would never need to hover above a form for an overdraft extension again.
Evidently, I needed some form of inspiration, but running the daily gauntlet of the motorway to Hull was far from fulfilling this purpose. Ironically, it would be this road that formed the backdrop to what made my idea such a feasible proposition.
Similarly, as if by osmosis, a couple of sessions in the clinic for obstructive sleep apnoea in Leeds must have unwittingly crystallised my intent. Here were some overweight individuals who could barely endure a wink of sleep without their airways narrowing into