Living in halls at Uni
In my first year of uni, I lived on my corridor with 7 other people:

Room 1 - Lewis - Didn't see him for the first week as he was out boozing, was first alerted to his presence by his alarm clock going off late at night, it was one of those ones that *never* shuts up unless you turn it off yourself, but we couldn't as his room was locked, so eventually we got security to come down with a spare to his room and she then turned it off, but to no avail, as it went off again 10 minutes later, so security was called again, this time she wrenched it out of the socket. Met lewis for the first time later that night, have since become best mates, and shared a house with him the following year (and we didn't end up killing each other afterwards, I did once tried to during a massive booze-up at one of his other mates house we're still best mates even after that, but I digress).

Room 2 - Me, can't really say what I'm like myself, but I used to be known as 'the ghost of eliot college' in that I seldom and only surfaced at night due to a catastrophic rejection by my first real love.

Room 3 - Lets call her C (for that is the first letter of her name), C was quite the party goer, did disturb my sleep (a dangerous act as several of my friends will vouch for) on more than one occasion when holding a mini-party in her room, but I thought 'bugger it, if ya can't beat 'em, join 'em.

Room 4 - Lets call her L (same reason as above), used to go boozing and partying with C, but it all came to a head one night when i (and the rest of the corridor) discovered she'd been boozing again and had managed to drink 2 bottles of vodka on her own and as a result was utterly wankered, add to that that she was going through messy times with her boyfriend at the time (only saw him once for a few seconds, walking past my room, exiting the corridor, and then her sobs a few minutes later to confirm they'd had indeed broken up but again I digress) so that added a whole new dimension to drunkeness, so she spent much of the evening and night throwing up into a random, rather large bucket we found and crying and howling (not much fun for those trying to get to sleep or doing almost anything else).

Room 5 - Here dwelt S (same reason again), now S had a few issues from the start, things began when she came to my room (possibly cos I was the only other person in at the time) rather upset saying someone had microwaved all her food (and she needed to be very careful of what food she ate due to some medical condition, I never found out what), I almost immediately knew who it was, twas J from room 8 (you utter cunt J, for other reasons that will be decribed later). Anyways, I took her to see the college master as she was obviously pissed off and upset (whereas I was just pissed off and gave me a very accurate first impression of J), but anyways, long story short, despite a few issues I generally got on with her quite well.

Room 6 - There dwelt Lara, hell of a woman, if it wasn't for her I may well have dropped out of uni in freshers week. She also gave me advice on how to confess my feelings for another girl (whom I may have spoken about in other QOTWs) and was there for me when everything went wrong, otherwise I would've completely lost it (still did severely affect me though and still is), now early on I do admit to having a crush on her but that was soon blown away when I realised my feelings for this other girl.

Room 7 - Seb, was mates with J, which made him a cunt by default, once put a hole in a laundry cupboard door for no reason.

Room 8 - J, a cunt of the highest order, 3 major issues with him, his effective bullying of S, the fact that he smoked copious amounts of weed in his room which could be smelt anywhere and everywhere on the rest of the corridor unless your room was pretty much airtight, and the third being the he took to stealing other people's food and drink (which was why I took to eating and drinking stuff as soon as I bought it and didn't bother using the communal fridge).

A majority of these people moved around the start of the second term due to a ghost ant infestation (there were countless millions of them), one time I remember pretty much gassing the entire corridor with deoderant trying to get rid of them, I killed thousands but that barely scratched the surface, and I think I very nearly poisoned myself.

But all in all, quite the mix of people on 1 corridor.
(Howling_Mad Gave God the finger on:, Sun 1 Mar 2009, 13:20, 1 reply)

Drunk and forgetful
I made my way home after a night out at a local club, I had partaken of much as happy water as was possible and still be able to walk the two miles home.
My flat mate came home from work at about 6-30 am, finding me asleep in front of the TV he woke me up with these words
"what ya doin ere mate"

This is when reality dawned on me. I had walked at least a mile and a half further than I needed. I had moved out the week before.
(Pill Popper Thank you Sasha Shulgin, Sun 1 Mar 2009, 13:20, 1 reply)

Nasty Nick
was my favourite
( Mr Nerdy-Speccy-FuckNuts Ouchy ouchy wa wa!, Sun 1 Mar 2009, 12:47, Reply)

I'm not convinced my flatmate isn't a hooker
Since I moved in almost a year ago I've seen her with a different guy each time, aside from one who hangs around a lot and has a pimpish air to him. Granted I've been there, seeing different guys every week since I ended a long term relationship, but not for more than a couple of months. She showers three times a day and seems to live in her dressing gown.

On the downside, she sometimes uses newspaper as toilet roll since I stopped buying it and leaving it in the bathroom as she'd never replace it. This has the expected consequence which I now make her clean up.

She's a feeelthy bitch in the kitchen and the surfaces are always coated in strange smelling oil and stains. Her idea of washing up is to run it under a cold tap and leave it to drain, so now all my stuff stays in my cupboard.

She's pretty quiet though, so I infinitely prefer her to the ones who just moved out who shouted and threw things at each other at 3am.
( fuck shit up the best you never had, Sun 1 Mar 2009, 12:37, 3 replies)

Toilet
Woke up one morning, running late for work. Ran to the bathroom and found a great big stone cold pile of turds on the rug just infront of the toilet.

"JOHN!!!" I scream, and he eventually clambers out of his pit and joins me at the bathroom door, peers in. I could still smell the sambuca on his breath from the previous night.

"Close enough," he says with a shrug and shuffles back to his room. "Beats doing it on the stairs like last time..."

I skipped a shower that morning.
( SpankyHanky, Sun 1 Mar 2009, 12:19, 3 replies)

Banged up...
I used to share a house with a right nutter.

Alarm bells should've rung when we had an argument about the washing up - he wanted all washing up done BEFORE eating what was just cooked. Try as I might to explain the logistical nonsense of what he wanted, it did no good.

He invited some friends round for a bbq once... he then spent all day digging a great big pit in the back garden, filled it with various flammable objects and decided that would be the bbq! His mates came over, we got drunk, laughed at the bbq, he stormed off to bed and i left with his mates to go to the pub!

The final act was an argument about the phone bill. "Oi" he told me "all these calls are yours, pay up!" he said.
"No they're not mate" said I "you see, all these calls are to my mobile phone and I'm not about to call myself am I??"

A fight ensued, I got punched repeatedly and got kicked out. He stole all my stuff, I returned to the folks, and the police did cock all (as usual!).

He got banged up a couple of years later for murder... www.guardian.co.uk/uk/2000/jan/21/paulkelso1
(bdgr can't think of anything witty to type here, Sun 1 Mar 2009, 12:14, 1 reply)

I shared a house with 5 student nurses.
It started rather awkwardly, but within 20 minutes of moving in we had all disrobed and engaged in a heavy and startling 6 way orgy so graphic that we closely resembled an animated butchers shop window.

I shot load after load of hot plasm over their upturned, gurning faces, and when I had no more, I injected a mix of flour and water into my urethra and ejaculated that instead.

That following morning after watching them clean my mess of of each other with their own tongues, we explored the delights of coporaphagia.

Picture the scene, dear reader as 5 nubile young nurses with the sexual appetite of an alaskan bear trapper on his annual visit to the brothel, howled and moaned and hungrily devoured my faecal matter in a writhing mass of limbs and sexual organs.

House sharing was never so much fun.
(Vic Flange, Sun 1 Mar 2009, 9:53, 10 replies)

An assortment of fun times
We used to have a flatmate who had the IQ of a bucket of frogs. She was a lovely girl, studying drama, just not very bright and quite sheltered. It was her first time out of home......it was amazing to watch her attempt to cook, one time she just threw a raw steak and a packet of 2min noodles into a frying pan and fried them until they went black. She told us she was trying to make a stir-fry :S......another time she broke her arm and woke the other flatmate up at 3am in the morning asking for help opening a poppa-juice. The flatmate who had just worked a double shift was not impressed.......her room was scary wall to wall piles of clothes, makeup, dirty dishes and wildlife.
(rattus, Sun 1 Mar 2009, 5:22, Reply)

I'm living in halls at the moment
So ask me again in a year. But I do have a few anyway...

Incidentally, this place is so good (*laughs*) that even the uni promotional material refers to it as "The Ghetto".


"Weird French guy". Shaves his pubes and leaves the clippings on the toilet seat. Also known for wanking in said (communal) toilets despite me trying to take a shit in the next cubical.

"S". Enormous and bisexual. Has absolutely no control over his temper when drunk. The nosiest person I've ever met. He rolled back in at 4am the other week, obviously having pissed himself and put music on at maximum volume. Then he started crying for no easily explicable reason (he didn't change out of his clothes either). Six people hammering on his door didn't make him turn the noise down.

"P". Very short and very Irish. Has a habit of turning music on at 3am and passing out. I once hammered on his door loudly enough to wake the people at the other end of the corridor, but he didn't wake up. Fortunately we stole a master key off a repair man some time ago, so we opened his door, turned everything off and threw him out of bed. He didn't wake up.

"M". Not a bad guy, but faaaaaar too fond of the crappest kind of tuneless techno faaaaaar too early in the morning. Have some respect for hangovers will you?

"L". American. Great guy, but for some reason has a habit of giving free haircuts in the corridor and not sweeping up afterwards.

"Weird Polish guy". We've seen him twice in six months. His room smells like fermenting death.

"Weird Chinese guy with Yakuza tattoos". Haven't seen him around for a while actually. Slightly worried by this as I don't remember him moving out.

"R". 6ft black kickboxer. You do not piss him off. He has a loud girlfriend. This on its own doesn't really bother me, but she lives in Glasgow. That means that whenever she visits they make up for lost time, and we are treated to an evening's (evening until 4am that is) not-very-muffled sqeals. It doesn't help that the walls in this place have the soundproofing qualities of tissue paper.

"Other weird French guy". He moved out/was thrown off his course some time ago now - but he had a massive weed habit. Massive. I'd come back in the evenings and start to get a bit lightheaded just from the fumes creeping under the door.




It's just occurred to me that their description of me would read:

"Weird English guy". Alcoholic and borderline psychopath. The only person S admits to being scared of, despite him being a foot taller. Known to walk around campus very late at night for unknown reasons.

So I'm not really one to talk...
( MatJ LOOK, Sun 1 Mar 2009, 2:17, 15 replies)

One of the more valuable lessons I Iearned via the medium of flat-sharing
is that if you happen to finish your early shift and get home at 2pm, exhausted and ready for bed, you run the considerable risk of walking in on a rather large nekkid lady in the kitchen, who mistakenly believed she had the house to herself for the day.

Said lady will emit a noise not dissimilar to a startled Zoidberg as she scuttles back to her room tout de suite.
( nightbuffalo needs more duct tape, Sun 1 Mar 2009, 1:31, 5 replies)

Kindasortarelevant
I recently came back from teaching English in a somewhat impoverished region in China. My flatmate was Australian and absolutely brilliant, I have no complaints about her and was incredibly lucky to have her around. This story concerns the place in which we lived.

Our flat was actually pretty snazzy by local standards, but backward by ours. The "kitchen" consisted of a big sink with a hole in the bottom which leaked all the used water out onto the roof, and a camping stove that often broke and had a rat hiding underneath it when it wasn't in use.

Our most splendid feature was the loo, which was actually at the end of the kitchen - mmm, hygienic! (Photo here: photos-d.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v319/38/69/540590528/n540590528_4195723_5979.jpg) As you can see, was no door. Tuneful calls of "I'm having a poo, don't come near the kitchen!" rang throughout our little household for many weeks.

It also blocked intermittently, and would not accept toilet paper, tampons or particularly large craps. The first time it blocked, we rang for a plumber. Unfortunately, there were no plumbers in the area, and the toilet remained blocked - and full to the brim with our leavings - for several days. Eventually, a random man came into our house, grabbed our mop, stuck it down the toilet and wiggled it around a bit (thus covering it in our mixed faeces) and left a puddle of pooflakes and piss all over the floor for us to clear up. Shortly after this incident, we purchased a plunger, which was put to good use on many, many occasions.

We were given a door one day, much to our jubilation. But this was cut short when we realised the hard way that you aren't allowed to close the door from the outside. We had to walk for fifteen minutes to use a public toilet (i.e. a trough in a shed) for about a week and a half while it was jammed shut.

When you have diarrhoea for about two consecutive weeks, this isn't particularly fun.
(Miss Teapot, Sun 1 Mar 2009, 0:24, 6 replies)

Karl
I used to live with a guy named Karl. He was a nice enough chap, he just lacked any kind of social skills or common sense.

Among his various annoying habits and mannerisms was he penchant for walking into bedrooms without knocking. In a house of 4 single men, this was asking for trouble.

One day as was my want, I was polishing the one-eyed gopher. I was having a wale of a time when I heard the stompy-stomp of Karl's size 10s coming up the stairs. I knew it was Karl as he had the habit of rushing everywhere so his footsteps were instantly recognisable.

I wondered if he was coming to see me, I wondered if he would knock, however the only conclusion I reached in these few seconds was that he was a dick and if he walked in on me wanking, its his issue not mine. He should bloody learn to knock.

Sure enough, my door swings open and Karl barges in. (My desk was opposite the door so my back was to him)

"Hello Bam Bam" He said in a voice that went a significant way to softening my swollen member.

"Karl, I am having a wank" I announced pausing dead still mid stroke, surprisingly free of embarrassment. Instead I was just annoyed that I had be stopped on the vinegar strokes by an inconsiderate shit-stain.

"Ha, yeah sure he said" Still looking at my back as he strolled into my room and sat at my bed which ran along side the desk.

I turned and looked at him with a glare. His blank, retarded, expressionless face turned to horror, as he looked down to my lap to see my hand gripping my fast fading, glistening tipped stiffy.

"Oh, shit, erm... Sorry" He said stumbling out of my room as fast as his legs would move, leaving me flaccid and unfulfilled.

At least he learned to fucking knock from then on.
(Bam Bam McPenis will change all this when he is fuhrer., Sun 1 Mar 2009, 0:00, Reply)

I think I annoyed my housemates
I've been playing a bit too much GTA4 lately. The Lost and Damned expansion pack provides a gametype called Chopper versus Chopper. Which is essentially one man on a motorbike, versus a helicopter. Said copter has explosive rounds, and is invincible. The biker needs to get through checkpoints, and whenever they are killed, the person in the chopper gets a go on the bike until they are killed, and whoever goes through the most checkpoints at the end of the game wins.

Most of the time I'm in the copter. Despite the advantages, i.e. can go faster, can make big booms, can hit anything and not be damaged, I'm still crap at this game because I can't fly and gun at the same time very well.

I was playing it with a friend online today and it got to the point where I was saying stuff like "Fuck you, buildings!" "Fuck you, lampposts!" "Fuck you, trees!" "Fuck you, gravity!" "Fuck you, harsh reality!" "Fuck you, piloting manual!" and suchlike. And getting more amused and pissed off at the same time, so I was getting louder.

Who knew that five girls wouldn't see the funny side of a helicopter bouncing off buildings whilst the pilot is swearing?
(Ghost Atreides enjoying incontestable health benefits on, Sat 28 Feb 2009, 22:52, 1 reply)

It's like the fucking Brady Bunch in my house...
Yes, there are 9 of us...

There's a core of people in my house who get on really well and have no problems at all.

Then there are 'the others'

It would take too long to go into detail about each person so I'll focus on just the one....Mike.

He's a very priviledged, son of a potato farmer, from Linconshire and he's a cunting fuckwad.

He lives at the gym, "sculpting his guns," yet does no sport and, from the lack of cardio exercise, is horrifically unfit. He lives off chicken and mashed potatoes and sees food only as nutrition to, "sculpt his guns."

He leaves lights on, ovens on, taps on and moans about everything. He thinks he's God's gift to women and I haven't found one who fancies him. He's also a naive, ignorant, inconsiderate bell end who is borderline gas chamber worthy.

And his eyes are too close together. Fact.
(Sir David Von Chodesworth can't find any audiobook transcripts, Sat 28 Feb 2009, 22:21, Reply)

Ok it was wrong but it felt sooooo good.
I've lived with quite a few blokes in my time (not like THAT.. housemates) and most of the time they are fine... however, one guy we'll call Stuart for that is what his Mum called him, used to always piss a little bit on my bathroom floor when having a slash. I mean how hard can it be to hit a hole a foot across with something you can point with? I digress. So as I knew he'd never ever stop doing it, whenever I found his little golden shower on the toilet floor I would dip his toothbrush in it and stick it back in his toothmug. And then smile, smugly to myself. Don't piss on my floor. It's not cool.
( Sallyrsm, Sat 28 Feb 2009, 21:56, 6 replies)

Weeeell....
Year One:

The Gay Catholic One (GCO)

Was constantly talking about 'wimmin' and how he definitely has got off with loads of them. Told of his heroic conquests and was being all Manly, mostly involving slapping on the back and saying "alright...MATE?"

When drunk (which was often, even for a fresher) he a) sang musicals (badly) at kareoke b) confessed that he's rubbish with women c) told of how he doesn't really like Catholicism d) got a bit too close with other guys who we knew were gay.
For all this he was an alright guy who we could laugh at when we got drunk. Plus his parents gave us money each time we visited.

The Roleplayer

Mostly dressed in black and joined me in our distrust of the GCO. Occasionally brought other roleplayers back to the house, played tragic: the blathering and tabletop roleplay on the kitchen table and made cooking impossible as him and friends took up the entire kitchen. Smelt as didn't bathe regularly.

The Stoner

Local dealer, kept himself to himself and grew Cannabis in his wardrobe. Asked me to go out with a photo of him to the student union and bring back girls for him. Hated the GCO.

The Christian One

Not much to say about him really, didn't much see him and when asked if he was Catholic or Protestant he looked at us blankly and said "I'm a Christian".
Had annoying girlfriend who'd ring the doorbell at half 6 on a sunday.
Universally ignored.

Year Two

Year 2 I again lived with randoms, Aberystwyth Uni ignored both my and my friends requests to be in the same house.

The Deaf One

Oh. God.
Was proud that he had *7* STI's, including the crabs which he left in the bathroom sink. The same crabs which he took into the Geek's bedroom on a contact lense saying "look what I found".
Left his hearing aids next to each other so they produced feedback which everyone else could hear.
Had a party during the easter holidays where 2 people were taken away in an ambulance due to drinking too much, tried reporting him to the uni but couldn't get him thrown out as he was deaf.

The Geek

Was in charge of the local DC++ network, only decent one in the house, went over others' houses for LAN parties and as such didn't see much of him.

The Girl

Always having noisy sex with her jock boyfriend. Always in the bathroom.

The Gay One

See above.

Third Year

Third year was fun, made homebrew beer which was ace then generally laughed at the GCO.

I'd moved in with:

The Scouser

Camp short guy from Birkenhead, knew him from History course. Turned out to be a good housemate as liked cleaning the house, was able to laugh at the GCO with him and go up the pub to play chess.

The Metalhead

Incredibly clever guy who I also knew from my history course, was a closet right winger and would come out with incredibly rascist statements when drunk. E.g when chatting up a girl in a pub "how about them blackies eh? Don't you think they should just go home?"
He liked playing loud metal up to 3 in the morning and never washed up.

The GCO

This year his drinking got worse, we only saw him when he was off to spar to buy another crate of strongbow/a few bottles of olde english cider. Claimed he had night terrors which we ignored and soon enough the screams from his bedroom stopped.
I found out that he had spilt bleach on the table when I dropped some food on it, picked it up and ate it only for my mouth to burn like a thousand suns. The Scouse and Metalhead both told me that the GCO had told them he'd tried to drink the bleach but 'couldn't bear to.' Basically he was constantly looking for attention from people who were, before then, his friends.

His room was an all night kareoke bar and he was the only person there! Speciality became "gay bar".

Fun times
(Evilweevil is covered in bees, Sat 28 Feb 2009, 21:25, 2 replies)

The person with whom I live
When I was young, my mother ran a youth group. As a result, at a very early age, I was aware of people going off to Oxford. By the age of three, I had decided that I wanted to do the same. This will turn out to be important.

The person with whom I live has been a part of my life for a long time. We were at primary school together, and when my work was pinned to the wall, he used to tear it off and throw it in the bin. He would predict with confidence that I would spend my adult life unemployed, and would point out that I had quite a little pot-belly.

When I went to high school, I thought I might be able to shake the person with whom I live - and he kept quiet a lot of the time, though he was reliably there in social situations making sure that I never got out of place: he did his best to point out every social and academic mishap. On occasion, he would he appear and encourage me to bang my head against walls or tables until my face bled as the just punishment for not understanding calculus or not being able to remember bits of Latin or Russian vocabulary. The person with whom I live has a stern sense of justice.

When I passed the Oxford entrance exam, I thought that that might shut up the person with whom I live - but when, post-interview, the rejection letter arrived, the person with whom I live framed it and hung it on the wall. It hangs there still, 14 years later, just above my screen as I write this, as a reminder of my failure to achieve the one thing that meant anything to me as a child.

When I went to university, I thought again that I might be able to shake the person with whom I live. Yet he shadowed me, reminding me about the limits to my abilities, about my body, about my social and emotional cack-handedness, about the disappointment to myself and everyone else that undoubtedly I was.

When I met CHCB, I made the mistake of thinking that I might have something to offer someone whom I admire. My home situation was difficult, but I wanted to find a way through that. The person with whom I live saved me the effort, though, by reminding me that, if I were to visit her, I'd have to eat without going to the gym. He would then calculate the meals I'd have to skip, and the extra hours I'd have to put in on the treadmill, to make up the deficit. The person with whom I live is helpful like that.

I never once caught the train. The relationship with CHCB ended before it began.

My current contract ends in July, and I am chasing three jobs at the moment - one of which is at my current institution, another of which is in Dublin. The person with whom I live thinks that I should withdraw my applications, or not send them in. After all, they won't amount to anything. He tells me this and explains his reasoning at length.

The person with whom I live is scornful of my writing this now. It is, after all, a Saturday evening. But he is good enough to remind me that I am ugly, tubby, pasty, uninteresting, and inept, and that it would be a waste of time to consider doing anything else. As I said - the person with whom I live is helpful.

The person with whom I live is called Iain, and I wish that he would go away.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Sat 28 Feb 2009, 20:59, 18 replies)

Pantony
I once shared a house with a very strange and unstable person we shall call Pantony. We shall call him Pantony because my girlfriends pants used to disappear never to be seen again. But that's not really the half of it. He also nicked a copy of Playboy from me. I decided not to ask for it back.

We first noticed something was amiss when we were woken at 3 in the morning by the sound of him banging on the radiator at the side of his bed, in time to his full-volume rendition of the Human League's classic "Don't You Want Me Baby?" When I mentioned it the following morning he looked at me blankly and had no idea what I was talking about.

He would come in at night from the pub and prepare a full meal, raw, on the plate, then go to bed and never cook it. Sometimes twice in a night.

He had mild OCD which meant we had a very clean bathroom, but sadly he never did the dishes.
It was perhaps his habit of drinking heavily after taking pills designed to limit this which produced his finest hour. Hearing some noise from upstairs my girlfriend and I gingerly crept up the stairs, to hear Pantony in the bathroom, presumably having a bath, whilst shouting "die, nigger nigger die!" repeatedly.
(apologies for the N bomb, I quote verbatim)

Our landlords were crap and we all moved out, but we would occasionally bump into him around town. Oddly, every time we did he had fewer teeth.
(Lambkin, Sat 28 Feb 2009, 20:43, Reply)

We have a new flatmate. He never locks the fucking door.
Even when he comes in the house. I tell him, but he keeps replying "yeah, but we're *in* the house, so it doesn't matter. He forgets the fact our rooms are upstairs.

I went downstairs, and heard the door slam. I thought nothing of it- as I assumed it was either my flatmate or his girlfriend. But the shadow in the window was of someone… sneaking. Now, you don’t see much people sneaking nowadays. But, it was hunched- it was bouncy- it was a full on sneak! Now, I don’t care much for people sneaking about, so I did the stupid thing and went outside. Sure enough, the sneaker kept sneaking, went over the fence and hid round the side of my neighbour’s car.

So, I went out onto the gravel, went into my neighbour’s garden and saw the sneaker lying down. Sneakily.

“Hello?” I asked

“Shh!” was the responce. I was being shushed by a burglar.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m hiding. Somebody’s looking for me”

“Yeah,” I thought, “I am”. But I didn’t say that. It would have been pretty cool if I had. But, alas, I’m not James Bond. In fact, I didn’t even have the potential to have this guy arrested, as I had forgotten two things. Firstly, my phone. Secondly, my shoes. I don’t think anybody has ever tried to run after a burglar without wearing any shoes.

The potential burglar’s story was that somebody was looking for him and he was hiding. I didn’t really believe this (as I am a sane person), so I did the easiest thing I could. I knocked on the neighbour’s door.

“What do you think you’re doing?” asked the burglar, “Geez, why not get the whole street involved?!”

I planned to. But, no time. The neighbour wasn’t answering the door (why would he, what with all the sneakers sneaking around). I decided to go back inside my house and call for my flatmate, to see if we could get the guy. I turned back one last time to see the guy walk off in the middle of the street still sneaking. With streetlamps on him.

When I went back in, me and my flatmate drove around the village, seeing if we could spot this lovely man. We did not. Getting back to the house, I checked all of downstairs. To be honest, it would have been odd had the burglar taken anything. He didn’t have a rucksack with him, so he couldn’t have stolen anything big. And, the potential items he could have stolen downstairs consists of shoes and dirty plates. He’d have been doing us a favour.

I think the doors need to stay locked. I yelled at said flatmate later, but he just grinned it off and said "yeah, but at least he didn't take anything".
(__, Sat 28 Feb 2009, 20:39, 2 replies)

I used to live with Chumbawamba.
The house got knocked down, but it got up again.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sat 28 Feb 2009, 20:05, 7 replies)

Tom,
If you're reading this, please can we have the £1200 deposit that you cost us by deciding not to pay any rent for 4 months. I know we had some good times, like the birthday cake we made you with "TWAT" written in icing on the top, but you should really know that Steely Dan are shit and that beard makes you look like a fundamentalist gnome. And you can forget about getting your Xbox back.

( Damien's Hearse, Sat 28 Feb 2009, 19:24, 6 replies)

Student Accomodation
In the early 80's I moved into student accomodation, a lovely old house in a nice(ish) part of town. Our landlord was some sort of East European guy; Mr. Balowski. There were 4 of us, all students. M* was the "mature" student, wise in the ways of women and the world, R was some pretentious anarchist type, and N was a 60s throwback hippy type. Me? I was (as you may know from my profile) the Metal head, so I was well chuffed one day when Motorhead played in the street!

*initials only; some of these people have gone on to be quite succesful in other fields!
(kitescreech still here, Sat 28 Feb 2009, 18:33, 6 replies)

The most eventful house in the world
I used to share a great student house with more or less every drop-out or reject from the local community when I was at Uni. It wasn't even my house. I was just one of the people who used it incessantly as a place to score weed, get drunk before a night out or whatever. Luckliy my girlfriend at the time lived there so it was OK. The place was rented by a bunch of heavy-partying art students who rarely allowed a weekend to slip by without having all their punk mates over for a cider session.

The place was ace, but after a year or so it just started getting surreal, for example; the kid who lived in the house opposite got dragged out by the police after killing his girlfriend and stuffing her in a freezer. One day a crowd of German punks turned up at the door (led by the intimidating but incredibly friendly tattoo-headed Sven) and stayed for about six months sleeping on the floor. At some point the neighbour got fed up with the noise and put a hosepipe through an open window when we were out and flooded someones bedroom.

Another day we were chilling in the garden, mocking the police helicopter buzzing overhead, then before we knew it police dogs, meat wagons, the whole lot surrounded us, the chopper hovering over the garden and shouty burly coppers telling us not to run. Nothing was further from our minds as we were worried they'd search the house more than anything else. Luckily it was just a case of mistaken identity, but all very odd.

One morning we woke up to go to a student fees protest in London, and found an unconcious random Italian girl on the sofa. no one knew where she came from. And there were dozens of bunches of flowers all along the garden wall. Our friend Roo said someone had died on the street in the night. We were well freaked out but went on our way nonetheless. Only a week or so later did he confess that whilst pilled up the night before he'd robbed a Spar of their flowers and put them along the wall!

There are too many other tales of that house to tell here. Needless to say it was more of a fucking education than four years at Uni!
(Amputated is tickling the exit wound, Sat 28 Feb 2009, 17:58, Reply)

Friends House
I got a job in Cambridge and had to move into a shared house where the other 3 knew each other pretty well. The day I moved in, they were all out but I spotted a pile of "Friends" videos in the living room. "Uh oh" thought I.

My worst fears were confirmed. I'd just moved into a new town and the only people I knew were three *desperate" Friends wannabes. By end of the first evening spent getting to know them in the pub, I could see how little we had in common. They couldn't even watch TV for more than five minutes without squealing like teenagers, even though they were well into their twenties. Even the fact that I sometimes bought a paper or wanted to watch the news was met with hoots of derision. It was enough to make you wonder if they realised that Phoebe, Chandler, Ross, Rachel, Joey and Monica weren't real people.

Funny thing was, when I could get one of them alone, there was no problem. It was as if they were afraid to show the others they had brains in case their "Friends" thought less of them.

I'd signed a six-month lease and was counting the days when I could move out, but it turned out that they were all going to leave for various reasons (Cambridge can be transitory place), so I stayed put. But before they all left, I went off on holiday for a month, leaving a note on the fridge saying "anything you find on my shelf is common property". When I returned, a neighbour told me they'd all fallen out over who got my bacon and sausages. How I laughed!
(lolwhites, Sat 28 Feb 2009, 17:18, 2 replies)

Keep your friends close and your housemates closer.
A guide to choosing flatmates in Uni.

Chose wisely from the following:

Friends-

Pro's: your mates, its like the party never ends!

Cons: although your friends would never steal from you, they will assume that a BFF status gives the the right to borrow, clothes food and lovers without asking. Also there is a good chance they will no longer be your friends once they assume part responsibility for the bills.


People with cool stuff.

Pro's: cool stuff

Cons: If people need to bribe others into living with them with big TVs/ guitar hero/ massive porn stash, its safe to assume that they are massive wankers.

Clean freaks.

Pros: your house will be clean

cons: They will expect you to be as clean as them and nag you to death. This can be as annoying as living in filth with the added pain of incessant tidying.

Crusties

Pros: Most laid back people ever, if you have annoying personal habits you can guarantee they don't give one iota of a shit.

cons: Their room in halls was a biohazard , rotting food, old pizza boxes, overflowing ashtrays. Now Imagine this person will be using your kitchen and bathroom.

Drug users/alcoholics.

Pros: 24/7 party atmosphere, constant supply of recreational substances. Reputation for being one of the cool kids by association (take that everyone at school!).

Cons: If you partake less than them you will be the one paying all the bills. Impossible to get any work done, and you will have to deal with hungover/ coming down hangers on on a daily basis. They will also tun into a crustie after about 4 weeks. After 8 weeks expect to get evicted..by the police.


People from a completely different course to you-

Pros: a science type living with arty types and vice versa will have alot to talk about. you will meet new people and find out interesting things.

Cons: you will either be bored to death by LAN parties full of spazmanoids or reduced to teeth grinding rage by snooty Nathan Barleys going on about 'postmodern themes' in daytime TV. The fact that you will have grossly different lecture timetables and sleeping patterns will lead to insomnia driven murders.

Rugby players

Pros: If you ever wanted to live inside a copy of nuts magazine this will be a dream come true.

Cons: If that sounds bad then you will be pleased to know that it is far far worse than you could imagine.

remember that your not perfect so you have to take what you can get. Just lock your doors when you go out and you will be fine.
( willenium Fist bump for verification, Sat 28 Feb 2009, 15:12, 1 reply)

Dont live with a wizard
www.daisyowl.com/comic/2009-01-07
( willenium Fist bump for verification, Sat 28 Feb 2009, 14:38, Reply)

Advice on women
At uni in my first year I shared halls with a lad from Blackburn whos name I've forgotten. Sorry lad from Blackburn. He was a bit of a Ned Flanders but with one major difference. He was desperate, and I mean DESPERATE to get laid.

He was making progress with a young lady he had lectures with. He'd even plucked up the courage to ask her out on a date.

All very sweet.

He rolls up to me one morning over breakfast to ask for my advice about women. Fuck me!!!

"Spanky, what do they like? You know, what do they like you to do... to them..."

'They'??? Their not fucking aliens, mate!

"Well, when you've got them in bed," I started. "Nothing drives your average girl wild like sticking your finger up their bum," I managed to say this with a straight face.

Blackburn Boy looked a bit shocked. "Really?"

I nodded. "Drives um absolutely wild, mate."

Later that evening when I was settling down to watch Ghostbusters II (better than the first by a country mile, I think), I heard a high pitched squeal from Blackburn Boy's room.

Sometimes I really am the biggest cunt in the world.
( SpankyHanky, Sat 28 Feb 2009, 13:04, 11 replies)

The Twat Equation
If you live shared accomodation and:

There is one person you and your other housemates dislike/hate then that person is the Twat in the house.

You dilike/hate everyone else and they get on with each other then you are the Twat in the house.

Apply this to any qotw to find out who is a Twat.
(Stupidiot -[insert humour]-, Sat 28 Feb 2009, 12:22, 4 replies)

housemates revenge
When I was at uni I sahred a house with 3 other guys, Fraser, Roger, and Martin.
Roger was the nice quiet type who kept himself to himself and didn't generally cause any problems Martin was a big hairy arsed biker from Torquay who liked to indulge in a bit of home brewing ably assisted by yours truly, Fraser was a tight fisted little scrote who kept nicking the home brew that Martin and myself had spent hours creating, one evening myself and Martin were in the uni bar when an evil plan formed in my diseased brain, how about making some wine and presenting it to Fraser at the start of the easter break.
OK kiddies do not try this at home,
Ingredients

4 ounces of senna pods soaked to extract the goodness
8 ounces dried figs
8 ounces pitted prunes
1 pound sugar
1 gallon water

This concotion was boiled up with the senna water left to cool yeast added and left to fester.
When bottled it made a very nice dry fruity wine, 6 of these bottles we presented to Fraser who then proceeded to drink 3 of them this plan was going better than we had hoped for, we were a bit miffed as nothing dramatic happened, he was half way down his 4th bottle on day 3 when he said he didn't feel well, he headed for the loo where he took up residence for at least 2 days guess what he never nicked any home brew again I wonder why.
(raith50, Sat 28 Feb 2009, 11:50, 3 replies)