Weird Housemates Part 2
After moving out of the house which I shared, unfortunately, with Igor (see Part 1), I moved in with two randoms.

Tarquin (not his real name, but entirely apt) and Jemima (again not her real name, but entirely apt) were both extremely, awfully posh. I fully admit that I am a paid up member of the shiftless middleclass, as raised in a comfortable home as the next person, but in comparison to these two I felt like shit on the soles of their shoes.

Tarquin was very much into hunting. He wore tweed or hunting gear as much as possible. He made inappropriate jokes about Jews infront of my Jewish Russian friend V (again see Part 1), he had dinner parties with his chinless inbred eupatrid hunting friends 'Nobber' 'Jew Simon' 'Stinky' 'Pipe Jim' and 'Quorn Henry'. They would buy a whole case of wine glasses, sit around in our manky student living room in their dinner jackets, get very drunk, go outside and smash the glasses against the wall, then piss on the bikes locked up against the back wall. They also enjoyed blowing the hunting horn Tarquin had for hours, singing Jerusalem, and playing patriotic British music as loud as possible. The place would be wrecked when they were finished. I came down one morning to discover that the fresh pack of butter I had bought the day before had 5 or 6 cigars stubbed out in it.

Tarquin frequently had his no-brained braying girlfriend over. She had a face like a badly poached egg, watery eyes and a high pitched buzz saw voice. My room was tiny and next to theirs and I could hear them shagging to the interminable Thundercats DVDs he would play on his laptop. I even heard him shout "Thundercats HO!" at the height of sex.

I had one shelf for my food. Tarquin decided that he needed more room so put all of my food in the cellar.

Jemima was easier to live with. She didn't smoke, apparently, despite the 10 to 15 fags she got through a day. Her boyfriend would come to stay every so often and, despite being as thick as a Welshman's cock he was actually a nice guy. The major problem with her was her overbearing deeply Christian mother who came to inspect her room once every 2 or 3 weeks to check for signs of 'fornication'. Oh and the light and persistent racism.

One of my closest friends at the time was (and indeed still is) Indian. I was desperately trying to get into her pants and, in furtherance of this endeavour, she was often over in my room, smoking weed, drinking wine and watching bad movies. Once she called round when I wasn't there, and Jemima left me a note saying "Zapiola, your coloured friend has called round". They'd met her maybe 50 or 60 times, but hey, she's brown, you don't need to remember their names. Just remember the Raj.

I actually managed to get fairly far with the Indian girl but, perhaps inevitably, Tarquin stuffed it up for me. We had been out with some friends, and the Indian girl and I had got very drunk together and had sat talking and getting close, before deciding to go back to mine to smoke a joint and watch a movie.

We start watching the movie, snuggled up in bed together, smoke the joint, I start stroking her leg, and she turns her head and starts kissing me. This was like heaven for me. We were progressing towards other things when the front door opens with a huge crash, theres a braying whinneying voice saying "its at the top of the stairs" and then a rush of feet mounting the stairs. Into my room (no locks on the doors) comes one of Tarquins friends, in top hat and tails, looking queasy. He also looks surprised because this is clearly not the bathroom and there's a half naked Indian girl on top of a guy (c'est moi) on a bed in the corner. Top Hat looks at us, we look at him, Top Hat then throws up in my bin. Indian girl is horrified, especially at the noise and chanting of hunting slogans from downstairs and askes if I can walk her home.

What else? Oh Jemima had a nightout with some of her friends, somehow lost her knickers and, when walking down the stairs after washing her face shat all down the stairs. Apparently she was allergic to gin.

The whole year was very weird.
(Zapiola zip-zap-zop, Thu 26 Feb 2009, 17:24, 3 replies)

Jeez!
That sounds like some bad trip. Are you sure you didn't dream it?
( girlinthehole, Thu 26 Feb 2009, 18:27, closed)

Unfortunately
no. It happened. It was weird. There truly is nothing like being woken up at 4am by the sound of a hunting horn being blown right ouside your door.
(Zapiola zip-zap-zop, Thu 26 Feb 2009, 19:23, closed)

click for
"She had a face like a badly poached egg"

Tremendous.
(TheColonel, Fri 27 Feb 2009, 12:10, closed)