My wife has inadvertently figured out how to rouse my tired butt out of bed and in doing so has probably discovered the power of an Achilles Heel, trojan horse, kryptonite and pide piper’s pipe all rolled into one sneaky package. No matter what time it is, if she cooks bacon and points the fan so that the bacony goodness points towards our room, no matter how tired, how hung over or how… hung over (okay, fine, this is all about me being hung over and not wanting to get out of bed)… no matter how, *tired* I am, I am helpless to resist the allure of the bacon waft as it gently caresses my hung over nostrils and whispers “better get out here before she eats me” into my hung over ears. All of which has lead me to conclude that if I could be bothered to invent a bacon alarm clock and sold it to those wives and girl friends not averse to the occasional underhanded tactic to get their way (ie. every single woman) – especially against the snoring, stinky, booze-sloth camped in their bed – then I bet I’d make a fortune. The lucky lady would simple need to set the alarm before heading out to her 6am yoga session and have faith that her brave alco-warrior would be incapable of resisting arising from his slumber to devour the tasty, salty, fatty trickery that is the bacon. Brilliant!