b3ta.com qotw
You are not logged in. Login or Signup
Home » Question of the Week » House Guests » Page 1 | Search
This is a question House Guests

"Last week," Ungersven confesses, "I vomited over almost everything in a friend's spare room. The only thing to escape the deluge was the rather attractive (alas engaged) French girl who was sharing the bed with me." Tell us about nightmare guests or Fred West-a-like hosts.

(, Thu 6 Jan 2011, 14:20)
Pages: Popular, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

Sinned Linens
A few years ago (more than I'd care to mention), I used to invite people back to my bedsit quite often.

I'll not beat about the bush, I would get rather lonely up there on my own with just my dog for company, so it seemed like a good idea to have people back at my place after last orders at which ever pub I found myself in, regardless of whether I knew the person in question that well or not.

I was taking chances I know, but I felt it was better than having to return home alone. Usually people would be pleasant enough sorts, and we'd get along quite well with them taking their leave of me the morning after, but some people I invited back just never seemed to want to leave. They'd still be there when I got back from work and to be honest they weren't the most sociable of people, it was like trying to talk to the wall most of the time. The situation wasn't particularly agreeable to me, especially as their personal hygiene was distinctly lacking, some of them stunk to high heaven I can tell you!

After a few days of this I'd be at my wits' end trying to get them to leave and whereas I'd sometimes get rid of them by showing them the flat's communal gardens and leaving them there (whilst I rushed back inside and locked them out), it wasn't the ideal solution. So I decided to think outside the box, and it may sound a little weird but I came up with the idea of flushing them down the toilet. It almost worked too, but unfortunately the drains would get blocked quite quickly. But still, I thought it was a bit much when the neighbours phoned the police!

Not to worry though, it all turned out okay in the end, I'm living in a much bigger house now and there's always somebody for me to talk to.
(, Thu 6 Jan 2011, 18:04, 4 replies)
All of my house guests have been wonderfully quiet...


(the basement is getting a bit full though.)
(, Thu 6 Jan 2011, 17:59, Reply)
Uncle awsome
My family are annoyingly close. Lots of family parties and events you can't really duck out of. This is fine every once in a while, but It gets old fast. This is especialy bad for new members of the family, I can hardly stand to make small talk and have endless photos taken with people I have nothing in common with, I dread to think how it would be if your a new partner, dragged along and dropped in the deep end, stuck for hours in the daily mail fan group.

An uncle of mine found an effective, if not somewhat inelligant solution to this in his early attempts at hosting a party. Upon tiring of his guests, he would get up, leave the room and turns the lights off and go up to bed without saying a word. Sadly he has now dropped this practice.
(, Thu 6 Jan 2011, 17:57, 2 replies)
Way back in my first year of university an australian bloke turned up on his doorstep, planning on staying with one my housemate Andy. Although he'd only met this antipodean cumstain once previously he was welcomed in and shown the sofa. 4 of 5 days down the road his welcome was more than worn out but Andy couldn't bring himself to kick him out; so, being students, we went to the pub instead. After a few pints his half-baked opinions on multiculturalism (read racism) had pissed us off, so when he wanted to go out to a club we all politely declined. Apart from another housemate, Steve, that is. As the place they wanted to go to was a student night this mid-twenties aussie was worried he wouldn't get in, and as I didn't want him coming back right away and ruining the first chance I had to sit in the lounge for a while I leant him my student id.

The next morning, there was no sign of him or Steve. Naturally a little concerned, I texted Steve, no reply. Midday rolls around and they roll in the door, fresh from the cells with police cautions for criminal damage. It seems that the australian had decided to see how many wing mirrors he could snap off on the way home and only made it half-way down our road before being picked up by the police. He was kicked out of our house immediately and all returned to normal, until I saw my ID left for me on the kitchen table, that is. To this day I wonder what name he gave the Avon and Somerset constabulary when accepting that caution.
(, Thu 6 Jan 2011, 17:51, Reply)
Since this appears to be the "how I sicked up everywhere at a friends place" question, have this
I have one friend, who apparently doesn't mind me attempting to destroy his house nearly every time I visit his house. In no particular order, I have:

- Thrown up on his bathroom door whilst pissed off my face, wandered downstairs after NOT cleaning it, and denied throwing up, despite a lovely trail of vomit slowly trickling from the corner of my mouth.

- Thrown up all over his living room floor (about ten minutes after the above), before deciding to take a nap, collapsing and knocking a bottle of vodka into the sick puddle and then falling asleep in it. Nice.

- Ordering pizza at his, getting the pizza delivered through the living room window and then promptly spilling greasy pizza all over his nice clean carpet whilst relocating the pizza from outside to inside. And then doing the exact same again with a fresh pizza less than an hour later, in virtually the same circumstances (the delivery man was different). After that I was ordered to sit on the sofa, on my hands, and to not move from there until the pizza was safely ensconced inside.

- Spilling gravy all over the table, floor, chair and bookcase. I feel I should add that they were all a fair distance apart, including the bookcase being in another room. He just sighed. I went and got the kitchen towel to clean up.

- And finally, sleeping in his bed after we'd been out to town, I felt the urge to spew, and did so. Thankfully, not in his bed. Unluckily, he was sleeping on the floor by the bed, which is where I did end up spewing. All over him.

Somehow, I'm still welcome at his house. I'm not entirely sure why.
(, Thu 6 Jan 2011, 17:45, 2 replies)
Close encounter, not of the turd kind.
No shit in this story, so scatmunchers please look elsewhere.

i was staying at my best friends house over christmas sometime in the early - mid nineties. His parents were renowned for throwing good, clean parties and didn't mind letting us older kids (16 or so) indulge in a little drinking. It's not like we were handed the keys to the liquor cabinet, but the beer was in the garage anyways...

As his sisters were staying out, I was given his bedroom and asked to lock the door. I thought the request a little strange but thought it might have had something to do with the family pet coming in during the night.

I was partially correct. I promptly forgot to lock the door, prefering instead to fwap one off over the mental imprint one of his fit cousins had left on me. Alcohol and wanking fatigue helped sleep claim me quickly and I probably didn't move a muscle until I felt a bulge press against my arse and someones breath on my neck. I nearly shit myself. As soon as I felt the arm come around my waist, I moved like a fucking snake towards the bottom of the bed and stood up.
Apparent it wasn't the dog I was supposed to lock the door against...

My friends father, (amusingly also a nude sleeper) sleepwalks and will literally crawl into anyones bed. After running in a blind panic to get my friend and tell him what had happened, we returned back to where I was sleeping to find his father now semi awake pissing into a wardrobe.

This story gets repeated every time I see the old git and remains to this day the closest I have been to being buggered up the arse by an older man.
(, Thu 6 Jan 2011, 17:36, 1 reply)
More vomit
I had some time off work with Bronchitis, so what better time to spend it than at my mates playing drinking games. Now my friend Lisa and i have concocted many a drinking game to go with every board game imaginable. Our favourite being drinking Kerplunk.

The game is simple, for ever marble dropped, its a swig. For the golden marble, you neck your drink.
Round after round of cocktails from whatever was left in the kitchen alochol wise will eventually take its toll on you when you are ill and I preceded to go upstairs to be sick.

I managed to get it all up the stairs (cream carpet), all over the hallway, bathroom you name it before getting it all over the bed and promptly sleeping in it.
I woke the next morning smelling like the inside of a tramps overcoat and sheepishly tried to clean it while apologising profusely and getting caught in a viscious vomit cycle.

later that day we decided to take my bronchitis filled, hungover self to the beach.

This was in january.

Ive desecrated many a friends carpet in my time. It makes me wonder why they keep having me round.

Apologies for length... and the mess.
(, Thu 6 Jan 2011, 17:35, Reply)
After an ex's 18th Birthday Party....
At which I took a liking to the vast amount of left over tuna butties, I threw them up in the middle of the night behind the headboard of the bed. I woke in the morning a forgot all about it. About 5 days later I got a stern telling off from her Mum who had discovered it when trying to track down where an awful stench was coming from. Needless to say, the relationship soon eneded. Still love that tuna though.
(, Thu 6 Jan 2011, 17:29, Reply)
Davey B and the ghostly eiderdown.
Many moons back we'd been out on some works christmas party and one of my colleagues stayed overnight in our spare room. Come the morning he comes downstairs looking like the undead and wearing my exe's blouse for comedy effect.

"Eeeh Seaman Gabber I was sick over the bedding last night."
"Hehe. Good work. We'll put it in the washer, no worries."
"That's the problem. I can't find it. I may have eaten it."

So we went to hunt for the vomity eiderdown. It was nowhere to be seen.

"Can you remember what the hell you did with it?"

"I may have thrown it out of the window."

Our house was a linked-detached with the guest bedroom adjoining the neighbours but the space below was occupied by the neighbours car-port which allowed him to drive through and park in his back garden directly underneath our guest room window.

Expecting there to be a vomity mess of a blanket over his shiny red 2.8 audi Quattro we were baffled to see there was none.

In the remaining years the blanket never turned up and the neighbour never said a word.
(, Thu 6 Jan 2011, 16:48, Reply)
Choose your decor carefully
Sadly I have learnt the hard way about house guests and home decorating.
I spent ages redecorating the whole hallway, stairs, bedrooms with a lovely cream wool berbour carpet.
I also threw a wicked house party with my notorious cocktails.
I'd get the blender going with a whole lemon, top up with loads of vodka and some ice to make "Smirnoff ice", as in it's smirnoff and ice.
I'd hollow out a pineapple, blend malibu and other stuff then pour back into the pineapple which became a cocktail cup.
One step too far was the blue daquiri, orange and god knows what else which gave us a green cocktail that tasted like kiwi fruit.
Unfortunately Mark wasn't looking good so I sat him down in an easy chair in the hallway since it was quiet there.
I swear I shampooed that carpet a dozen times, aired it, dried it, did everything I could then had to replace it.

Cream carpets and cocktails do not mix.
(, Thu 6 Jan 2011, 16:36, 5 replies)
Attention everybody!
Lisa's voice broke the background murmour in the pub and brought the place to a silence.
There stood Lisa, slim blonde and only 18. Popular but often quiet we wondered what had prompted her outburst. Her boyfriend John, an Italian lad, was nowhere to be seen today when they were normally inseperable. Though the pub was packed with Johns and her friends, the Italian community was a large one in Watford.

"Last night John shit the bed." She loudly announced. "He's a filthy fucker and everybody should know it."
Well.... shit the bed. (This has now become my adopted phrase for any news of shock and awe).
I later found out it'd happened during the night when they were both asleep. She awoke with his shit in her hair, on her face, all over her. Basically it was like that scene in Nightmare on elm street except instead of blood it was shit.
It took John almost 2 weeks before he showed his face at the pub again. Filthy fucker.
(, Thu 6 Jan 2011, 16:30, Reply)
I went to a mates house for a bit of a party
and threw up on the floor of his toilet. Normally it's not too much of a problem to clean up and hide/throw away evidence. But this was the small box toilet under the stairs and this sick was the consistency of a tin of chunky vegetable soup mixed with a few pints of water, so it formed a inch thick layer of bile covering the floor.

Here's the bit where I turn into a shitty house guest.
There was bog roll to use to clean it up but being drunk I saw a couple of towels and a t-shirt on the radiator and just chucked them on the floor gave em bit of a swirl around with my foot and left.

I don't expect I'll be invited round any time soon.
(, Thu 6 Jan 2011, 16:04, Reply)
Not me but a mate....
He's pretty well known for having quite decadent house parties, usually a lot of fun and the guy mixes a decent punch. Still hasn't quite realised that wine is not a "mixer". Anyways, he's invited someone from work over to a few of these events and I swear to god that guy has managed to piss in every room in his flat.

Started with the bedroom. First time I met the guy, he got so drunk he basically could not walk so my mate offered him the bed for the night. He pissed himself while he was asleep. Apparently my mate thought this was a one off, so he continued to invite him to parties.

At the last count (I think) he has managed to piss in the living room and the kitchen as well as the bedroom now. I'm beginning to think this guy must be marking territory or something. Worst part is that apparently the kitchen urination was only discovered when the oven smelt "a bit funny" after switching it on.....
(, Thu 6 Jan 2011, 15:57, Reply)
Au Pair-lease
A while back we arranged to have an au-pair (gosh how middle class): actually, a girl in my wife's home country wanted to come to the UK so we put her up in exchange for baby sitting duties.

Since we didn't really know her, I was thinking of putting a "nanny cam" - CCTV camera - in the kiddies room, to see what was going on. The problem was, this was also the room where she'd be sleeping, so they'd have to be carefully placed, to allow her some privacy.

So I'm chatting to a friend about this, and mention that I'd need to find the perfect position for the camera for the Au Pair.

"Just under the rim is the best place", he replied without thinking...

(, Thu 6 Jan 2011, 15:33, 10 replies)
One time on mushrooms...
The first time I ever tried magic mushrooms, I was at a friend's house. One of the side effects of the mushrooms, and the principal reason I no longer take them, was that I couldn't quite tell if I really had to take a piss or not. It bothered me to no end, thinking that the first time I met his flatmate, I might piss myself on the sofa. This basically resulted in me spending damn near the entire time I was tripping going up to the toilet, sitting there for a while until I was confident that I did not have to piss, heading back downstairs to the living room (no easy feat, with the steep narrow stair case his house had), and then promptly returning to the toilet within in five minutes. Just in case...

On one such voyage, I was sat on the bowl, when it occurred to me that something awesome might happen if I could fit my entire head all the way through the right leg of my jeans, while I still had them on. I set to it, and midway through my endeavour, I saw some motion out of the corner of my eye. Looking over, I saw the flatmate's girlfriend standing in the door I'd left wide open. Not knowing what else to do, I waved and said "Hello, I'm Ithy, who're you?" It was a strange way to meet someone. When I sobered up, I was embarrassed for a while, but I mostly find it amusing. Considering her boyfriend and my friend did shrooms rather often, I'm not surprised that she didn't seem phased, though. Guess she'd seen stupider things, although I can't remember having done anything worse.
(, Thu 6 Jan 2011, 15:28, 4 replies)
Not a particularly good one
my older brother was with us at my younger brothers mother in laws house, and in a state of drunkenness managed to pee on a pyramid of toilet rolls that said MIL had neatly arranged next to the toilet. (don't ask. OCD doesn't begin to describe her).

Older brother, thinking on his feet, decided to throw a bit of water on it, planning to aplogise that he'd been washing his hands, and had splashed water over the floor etc.

Roll forward about 10 minutes, by which time we had noticed his absence. I went to find out what was happening, and was greeted by OB, who having not really learned in his 25 years on earth that bogroll absorbs water, was looking bemusedely at a 3 foot wide pile of pulp surrounding and overflowing from the bog - having destroyed the pile of rolls with bout 4 gallons of water, he had tried to flush them away and blocked the thing.

The solution? We sauntered back to the ongoing game of trivial pursuits, and said nothing. Nobody ever mentioned it again. Oh, excapt me, who told my younger brother, his girlfiend, my Mum and all my older brothers mates.
(, Thu 6 Jan 2011, 15:20, Reply)
CSI: Student House
Many years back one of my housemates was so drunk at a house-party the other side of town, that he had to be put to bed in someone's room and left for the night to sober up.

When he turned up the next day, he was highly embarrassed. It turned out that his hosts had suffered for their hospitality. He'd had to piece things together, Forensics style, from the carnage in the room the next day, but it seems that what happened was roughly as follows:

- He woke up in the night needing the toilet
- He had no idea where he was or where the toilet was
- Still horrifically drunk, he looked for any container to relieve himself into
- Only mid-wee did he realise that an ashtray he'd placed on the bed and began to pee into wasn't going to hold it all
- Making a swift Plan B, he wiggled towards the window (presumably hoping to at least direct the stream outside) managing to keep weeing all across the room leaving a zig zag across the carpet
- Having finally got to the window just as his bladder finally emptied out onto the radiator, he headed back to the bed and went back to sleep in the urine and cigarette ash soaked bed
- ...then shat himself as a finale

He paid for a new mattress, duvet etc. I suppose you'd have to, really...
(, Thu 6 Jan 2011, 15:03, 4 replies)
German exchange partner
When I was about 15 our school linked up with another in Germany, so next thing we know we've got some kids over, staying for a fortnight.

My exchange partner was easily the fattest of the bunch. He appeared to sweat 24-7, and went two weeks without washing - only heaving his massive bulk into the shower the day before he left.

While he may have slammed my legs in a car door, made me late for school on a number of occasions, and wandered away into a strange town and got lost, what really pissed me off was the fat cunt's appetite.

In a boldly stereotypical display, he grabbed any food on the table. Basically the idea of sharing was completely alien to him.

In his first visit to a British chippy, he demanded the biggest fish supper no matter what anyone said about portion sizes. When we got home, he unwrapped it, grabbed the ketchup, and covered every last bit of the fish supper in red sauce until you couldn't see anything else poking through, picked four chips off the top, then added the very last of the ketchup to hide the bare patches he'd made, then put them down, saying: "I don't want these".

Fat cunt!

Ok, there are far worse things people could do as house guests, but I really want to hammer home how much of a fat ignorant cunt he was.
(, Thu 6 Jan 2011, 14:58, 1 reply)
My mate Pete
Who came to stay with me upon finding himself housingly challenged after what is now known as "The incident with his landlord".
Pete was a great proponent of chemically altered states of mind and not being a man to do things by halves this led to some amusing encounters....

Coming home one night after a night on the lash to find Pete semi naked with his arse in the air holding onto the carpet for dear life as he was convinced that the floor was moving and he'd fall off if he let go. It was a terrifying view, you could have parked a pushbike.

Going downstairs to find Pete sitting at the table eating breakfast and him telling me he'd put the cat out. I have never owned a cat in my life.

Walking past his room and smelling something really bollock clenchingly bad. After some investigation it appeared that when off his box Pete had decided his wardrobe was actually the toilet and had unleashed a case of explosive diarrhea in an arse detonation to rival the mayor of Hiroshimas 30 seconds before the bomb fell.

Still we did have some good times too. Pete moved on when he sorted himself a flat out and we kind of lost touch.
(, Thu 6 Jan 2011, 14:57, Reply)
An old school chum of mine once had the unfortunate luck to have this happen to him. Lets call him John (as his real name was Al)

I dont really see him any more, he ended up working in a place me and few friends worked in. And so our story begins...

Having dropped one of his friends off at his house for a Xmas Family party, he was invited in for a few drinks, well, a few drinks turned into many, and many turned into a bottle of scotch.

He tried to head home, but being int he state he was, was given the spare room to stay over.

The next Morning there was alot of commotion. On the landing was Toilet Paoaper and poo, and poo-hand marks over the light switches, toilet floor, walls, smeared everywhere.

Everyone was in the breakfast room, eating cereal and discussing the discovery. Meanwhile mum was upstairs - rubber gloves on cleaning the mess up.

John then walks into the breakfast room. His friends offer him Breakfast - he politley declines, and instead collects his keys and leaves, everyone is puzzled... then theres a scream... from upstairs.

In Johns room (which by the way was more or less immaculate), their Mum had pulled back the covers to find under the Duvet -- sh1t smeared into the bed clothes, then made the rather unsavoury discovery of sh!t filled boxer shorts stuffed down the back of the Radiator.

He never returned.
(, Thu 6 Jan 2011, 14:56, 1 reply)
Losing my appetite...
This is still fresh in my mind, as it happened a mere fortnight ago.

My brother, his wife, and their 6-month-ish-old baby came to my place just after Christmas. Brother and S-i-L are fully paid-up members of the Gina Ford school of babyfascism. Everything must be done to a precise schedule: my brother warned me once that if the schedule was allowed to slip by five minutes, then it might slip again the following day - and then, before you know it, you'd be 15 minutes out. They're also oblivious to anything outside of their babyfascist world.

The doorbell rang. I opened it with a cheery hello to my brother.
"Hello. We need a room with the curtains closed, because [baby] still has 10 minutes left of her sleep. You need to turn the heating on, too. Oh, and don't talk too loudly, either, because we don't want her to wake early."

He hadn't even made it through the door at that point.

I bit my tongue, went to close the curtains in the spare room, and then went to continue cooking lunch. I did - grudgingly - turn the heating on, but made sure it was turned down.

By the time that was ready, baby had had her allotted/ mandated sleep, and been brought downstairs. Her carrycot was perched on a dining-chair near the table. We ate.
"I wonder if [baby] needs her nappy changing," one of the proud parents (I can't remember which) mused. "Better check."

At this point, I'd expected one of them to take the cot upstairs to, say, the bathroom. But no. They plonked her on the floor and changed her nappy right there by the dining table - a table on which there was still food. I think that I might actually still have been eating. In their favour, they were very quick and efficient about it.

But, still. They'd just done a nappy transplant in the dining-room, while the meal was still in progress.

I think it'll be a while before I invite them to lunch again.
(, Thu 6 Jan 2011, 14:54, 12 replies)
Cafalover - sorry Kaffir
Worst chap I stayed with was a South African who was the essential racist stereotype. Didn't like the Kaffirs at all. apparently he used to run a supermarket back home and had been held up at gunpoint by 'groups of the bloody things' on several occasions so that hadn't helped much.

Anyway, casual racism is something you can sort of put up with once you realise there is no point arguing. the main problem was he was unbelievably lazy.

Having got fed up of having to take out bins etc every week because it didn't get done, he finally agreed to do it one week. Low and behold, return home from work, the bin bag has gone.

Unfortunately, it went outside the back door and into the garden, never actually making it to the bin. You couldn't get down the side of the house so to get the bag in the bin we had to carry it through the house when the offending item was discovered about a week later.

Even more unfortunately, there was a rat in it and it took a week to catch the bugger having plugged up all the spaces it could run away to, finally trapped it in a wok and dumped it in the roadwork pit up the road.

There's plenty more but initial summary is - don't live with overweight South Africans.

EDIT as my racism just wasn't up to scratch.
(, Thu 6 Jan 2011, 14:50, 3 replies)
edit: yessssss
(, Thu 6 Jan 2011, 14:46, 5 replies)
It is testament to the film "The Ring" that I enjoyed it
For the friend that showed us it is perhaps the worst house guest I have ever encountered. He is a flamoboyantly gay alcoholic, and spent the entire time screaming "Oh my god watch this bit!" "Oh god this bit is so scary I can't watch it!" "NOOOOOOOOO! SHE'S GOING TO SEE IT!" and similar.

Despite EVERYONE telling him to shut the fuck up, all the time.
(, Thu 6 Jan 2011, 14:40, 5 replies)
Blah blah they ate everything and shat on the furniture blah blah
but they're my kids/pets and I love them.

(, Thu 6 Jan 2011, 14:31, Reply)
I used to lodge with an older couple
She had two teenage sons by a previous marriage, who would occasionally come to visit and stay over on the sofa-bed.

Fair enough. My only problems were:

- They didn't appear to speak any English (she was Italian), despite apparently living and going to school in the UK, making conversations awkward
- They watched shite pop TV all day. Whenever they visited they would NEVER go out, just sit on the sofa eating Pringles and watching music TV
- They apparently didn't understand how to flush the toilet. Even if they'd had a dump.

The whole thing reached it's weird apogee when the TV was a bit loud late one night and I popped into the lounge to ask them to turn it down. They were sat on the sofa next to one another, duvet over their laps, casually knocking one out to some American teen pap on MTV.
(, Thu 6 Jan 2011, 14:30, 1 reply)

(, Thu 6 Jan 2011, 14:26, Reply)
and still not on front page
(, Thu 6 Jan 2011, 14:23, Reply)

(, Thu 6 Jan 2011, 14:23, 2 replies)

This question is now closed.

Pages: Popular, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1