Tech Eye: Mr Sandman, bring me a dream bed

As the morning draws on, we might have to hide in a ditch or two to avoid the long arm of the law, depending on how robust the alibi is from the night before, and by afternoon it's time for a stroll over to the bookies and maybe call in at the local windmill, where Jimmy the Nose has a friendly game of poker going these days, and the top floor gives a marvelous view of the village (and with a pair of binoculars, you can catch a charged, tantalizing glimpse of the local weight-watchers meeting in full swing in the village hall).

Once night rolls around, though, many of these distractions desert us and all the demons we've spent a lifetime stoking in our own personal hell come up to prod their tridents in our rear. First it starts as a whispering, then as a shouting, then as a wretched torment that would have any bird lover reaching for their trusty 12-gage shotgun and muttering: "Nevermore, I'll give you nevermore you little black-winged fecker."

Lately, to calm the soul and ease the conscience away from our inevitable descent into madness for a moment or two, we've been raiding Granny TechEye's special medicine cupboard. This is no small feat - the woman has eyes like a hawk and talons to match and the kind of wiry brute strength you only normally find in prison folk. Nonetheless, we distracted her with reruns of Knightrider on TV, and managed to sneak in and snaffle a little jar of her special night-time helpers, which are guaranteed to knock the bejaysus out of ye until morning rolls her overweight sunny disposition round again. So, in the past few weeks we've gotten quite used to the idea of floating away in our slumber, innocent as the day is long.

Now, though, we may not have to keep running the gauntlet that is the wrath of Granny TechEye as, like many a love-starved late-night internet browser, we've found a technical substitute for the real thing. Behold the Floating Bed. This is the brainchild of Dutch designer Janjaap Ruijssenaars (aaah, the Dutch, and there you were laughing at their clogs). It uses bloody great magnets to keep your bed suspended above the floor, so, much like Jesus, you can float mysteriously above your friends with a smug look on your face. Unfortunately for those of you who regularly claim to the police that you were just sleepwalking when that shotgun fell into your hand and you happened to stroll into the local liquor store, you can't use this weightless wonder as a getaway vehicle - four cables keep it firmly tethered to the floor (much like Father when a full moon is out).

Unlike Jesus though, you can't just rely on what your Dad gave you, and you'll have to go scrabbling down the back of your polar-bear-skin sofas in between your diamond pillows and get together EUR 1.2 (zł.4.9) million in real money to find yourself floating above the bedroom floor. Then again, Granny's pills and four flagons of one-eyed Joe's scrumpy usually has the same effect.