How middle-aged men can start fights…in their sleep (and it can be a warning sign of Parkinson’s)

We were three middle-aged men crossing a park at night. To our left were flats, around us a gloomy expanse of grass. We muttered angrily.

Our path led us past some derelict, steel-shuttered public conveniences surrounded by bushes, where a group of teenage boys was lurking. They stepped out, barring our way.

I aimed a karate kick at the first hooded youth but he must have been armed, perhaps with a baseball bat, as I felt a blow on my cheek . . . and awoke in shock, on the floor beside the bed.

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