Mystery guests
A few years back I went through to Glasgow to visit two student brothers, lets call them Pete and Danny. Pete's band was playing in town that night and Danny, having just moved into a big room in a shared student flat, said we could both kip on the floor, since neither of us lived locally.

Gig goes smashing, everyone gets ripped, we're onto the shots and cheap cocktails after I get smuggled into a student union. After a bit Danny decides he's going to stay at his bird's place, so chucks Pete the keys to his own flat.

Having never met Danny's flatmates we don't want to wake them up - especially since Danny mostly stayed at his bird's place and didn't know them too well himself - Pete and I creep up to the flat with our assorted takeaways piled high, chucking back another few beers before collapsing at about 4am.

I wake up on the couch in Danny's room, a half-eaten pizza by my side. My head has it's own painful pulse by now, and the rich daylight beaming in through the window isn't helping any. I try to think back to the previous night and remember if we broke or destroyed anything. Nope. We're good. Thank fuck.

At this point Pete stumbles out of the bed, having bagsied it the previous evening on the grounds that he was related to the absent host.

He looks rough as fuck, struggling for balance in his undies as he makes his way to the door. "I'm bursting for a pish," he groaned, "You need anything while I'm up?"

"Aye", I croaked. "Water".

While Pete's out getting the water I realise my only saviour from this brutal hangover is to try and get some more sleep.

After a while there's a knock at the front door of the flat. Fuck it. I'm just a guest. No point in me answering it, so I try get back to sleep.

Again the knocking continues. I'm starting to get pissed off with the lazy students who live here. They can't even get up to answer their own fucking door. I counted five rooms on the way in so surely one of them's got to be up by now. I start to drift off.

Ten minutes later there's a commotion and my eyes are opened. I can hear voices and movement in the hallway. I'm thirsty as fuck and I need water NOW! I get dressed and wander out to see where the fuck Pete is with my water.

The whole flat is awake now, filled with strangers and the banging on the door is louder than ever. One of the beweldered-looking students is twatting the toilet door with a screwdriver in the hope of busting the lock while the rest stand around watching with confusion.

Their shock at seeing me, an unknown drunk, stumbling into the hallway is topped only by the moment the toilet door lock gives way and Pete bursts out in yesterday's undies in a sweary fit.

The students had awoken that Saturday morning to find not only that they had guests. But that one of them had broken the lock on the bog and shut himself in. Pete had been banging away until they got up. When he emerged, the two young female students were treated to a full-frontal of drunken Pete almost in the buff, face like beetroot through shame.

It's a hell of a way to find out you have guests you've never even met before, but as a friendly bunch I have to say they took it far better than I would have.

Danny moved out soon after . . .
(Barry Subchimp, Wed 12 Jan 2011, 13:11, 1 reply)

The best part about dossing with students is meeting the residents.
I find the best way is to be first up and to make a round of teas. Then when someone comes in and enquires who you are, you respond "I'm A Vagabond - cup of tea?" which disarms them completely.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 12 Jan 2011, 15:55, closed)