Couchsurfing
When I moved into my shared house in London a few months ago I had to get used to the occasional couch-surfer turning up, as my new housemates had been doing it for a few years and assured me it was good fun. Most of the time it was okay; the occasional Aussie with no regard for public hygine was more than balanced out by all the fun people I met.

About 3 months into the flatshare we got a message from some dude and his girlfriend who were coming up from Brighton for the weekend and hadn't been able to find anywhere to stay. We responded, saying of course they were welcome. We all went out for some drinks on the saturday night, all very pleasant, but then 8 police vans go screaming past. The riots.

The pub closed early, so we decided to cut our losses and go home. We should have left earlier as coming down Caledonian road was a horde of chavs, smashing the Chicken Cottages and Ladbrookes' and god knows what else as they made their way down towards King's Cross. We hurried in, but they were right on our tails, one starts banging on the door and shouting. The fucker is bored, and liked the look of this chap from Brighton. He starts baying for a go, shouting "Send him out! I'm going to do him up the arse!", now, we're absolutely terrified, but this won't stand.

We're good hosts.

So, instead, I bundle my 18 year old housemate and the guest's girlfriend out of the door and slam it shut. So it's clear, I yell through the letterbox that they can rape and humiliate these two instead, but they can't hurt my guest. By the morning things had died down, so we ventured outside. They were both lying dead on my doorstep, so we helped get the girlfriend into the car to be carted off.

Judges 19:15-29. If their god does exist and I don't get sent to Hell I'll be disgusted with myself.
( Ungersven would support SpankyHanky's patreon, Fri 2 Sep 2011, 4:58, 1 reply)

There's a lot of allegory there...

(The Luggage is haunted..., Fri 2 Sep 2011, 10:57, closed)