Allotment shame
Me and my (Ex) Flatmate once played an eighteen month version of 'who can survive with no money the longest'
After both quitting our jobs on the same day and stocking up on Ketchup and Monster Munch, the game was on.
About a year flew by in a haze of cheap strong cider, cheap strong drugs & cheap strong women, posessions were sold, the rent remained unpaid and we slowly degenerated into beasts, squabbling over raw pasta shells and handouts.
Beards were grown, Dole money was scoffed at and we rarely ventured outside. A new language developed, as did several new species of fungi on the walls.
We would have the TV and stereo blaring continuously and laugh at the neighbour banging on our paper thin walls.

I knew the game was over, eighteen months later when we found ourselves scrabbling around on our hands and knees in the local allotments stealing onions and potatoes at midnight. We went home and cooked a lovely big pot of onion and potatoe hot water stew.
It was fucking disgusting.
Days later two notices of 'Accelerated Reposession' plopped though the letterbox.
We opened them after a few weeks and left with tears in our eyes.

Worst flatmate ? - It was a draw
(wrigglesworth, Thu 12 Apr 2007, 11:02, Reply)