Frame 12: For the aid of insomniacs. A soporific frame of snooker recorded late at night after a long drive when Me1's fiancee was out longer than expected. It's actually a very exciting frame of snooker, but played by and commentated upon and refereed by people who seem to be out of their minds with tiredness. Everyone is contemplating the infinity of nothingness that will greet them at their death. A visitor from beyond the grave gives them all a terrifying taste of what it means to be nowhere and nothing. But there's a funny bit where one of the balls goes up on the cushion. Will this work live longer than all the participants and what if it is all of theirs that survives? More importantly what did the next door neighbours make of this late night weirdness? Surely no one is listening now. But if we stop then we stop existing. Don't let us die.