>Deep Breath<Flatmate No.1
Was a complete pyscho who would talk to himself in the bathroom, shouting 'Hello!'. Came in one night pissed, tried to cook burgers naked at four in the morning, and almost burned the flat down. He was shagging the other flatmate and when it all went wrong, it esclated into punch-ups, broken glass, suicide attempts etc. He left and was replaced by
Flatmate No.2
Who, after two months in the flat overdosed and had to be carted off to hospital. I hear she lived. Meanwhile,
Flatmate No.3
The ex-girlfriend of flatmate No.1, had found herself a new bloke and moved him in. He was ginger, Irish, stupid and smelly, sadly fulfilling every navvy stereotype. Typical behaviour included leaving stinking trainers in the kitchen, and on one occasion nicking four bottles of expensive Belgian beer from the fridge and when confronted, replacing them with cans of Heineken.
So I moved out. But did it get better? NOOOOOOOOO.
Flatmate No.4
Was also the landlady of the new place that I lived in. The merest transgression would result in a flurry of post-it notes about what had rattled her cage that day. A spoon unwashed? Toilet roll hung the wrong way? You name it. When I eventually escaped and wrote a cheque for the outstanding gas and electric, she complained that it only covered up to the Saturday, when in fact I was leaving on the Sunday.
Yes folks, she was haggling over my share of one day's electricity.
(Was a complete pyscho who would talk to himself in the bathroom, shouting 'Hello!'. Came in one night pissed, tried to cook burgers naked at four in the morning, and almost burned the flat down. He was shagging the other flatmate and when it all went wrong, it esclated into punch-ups, broken glass, suicide attempts etc. He left and was replaced by
Flatmate No.2
Who, after two months in the flat overdosed and had to be carted off to hospital. I hear she lived. Meanwhile,
Flatmate No.3
The ex-girlfriend of flatmate No.1, had found herself a new bloke and moved him in. He was ginger, Irish, stupid and smelly, sadly fulfilling every navvy stereotype. Typical behaviour included leaving stinking trainers in the kitchen, and on one occasion nicking four bottles of expensive Belgian beer from the fridge and when confronted, replacing them with cans of Heineken.
So I moved out. But did it get better? NOOOOOOOOO.
Flatmate No.4
Was also the landlady of the new place that I lived in. The merest transgression would result in a flurry of post-it notes about what had rattled her cage that day. A spoon unwashed? Toilet roll hung the wrong way? You name it. When I eventually escaped and wrote a cheque for the outstanding gas and electric, she complained that it only covered up to the Saturday, when in fact I was leaving on the Sunday.
Yes folks, she was haggling over my share of one day's electricity.
Bad Horsey Bring back Dr. Ubes Rub!,
Mon 17 Nov 2003, 16:56,
archived)
Was thisin Cheshire, by any chance? I had a post-it passive-aggressive landlady.
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Flapjack I spay a little mare for you,
Tue 18 Nov 2003, 12:37,
archived)
Me tooThe worst was when he left one on the inside of the toilet lid to remind me and the other housemate to put the seat down. He refused to let us put the heating on even in December so our clothes took upwards of a week to dry. The smell of damp in the bathroom was utterly evil, and he still refused to heat the house even when we got an infestation of green slugs in there.
The worst flatmate ever was an aromatherapist who constantly smelt of pee for some reason. She repeatedly slept with my boyfriend of three years behind my back and very possibly in my bed. Not funny, I'm afraid but true, and it definitely comes under the 'bad housemates' category.
(,
Fri 21 Nov 2003, 14:55,
archived)
The worst flatmate ever was an aromatherapist who constantly smelt of pee for some reason. She repeatedly slept with my boyfriend of three years behind my back and very possibly in my bed. Not funny, I'm afraid but true, and it definitely comes under the 'bad housemates' category.