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This is a question Housemates from hell

What was your worst flat share experience? Tell us, for we want to know.

(, Thu 5 Apr 2007, 18:22)
Pages: Latest, 13, 12, 11, 10, 9, ... 1

This question is now closed.

long beard
placeholder, story comes later tonight.

Story about my flate mate / best mate who I've taken pictures of and posted on this site before (that'll be the guy with the long plaited beard that looks like a gigantic pube)
(, Thu 12 Apr 2007, 14:22, Reply)
Top tip for getting rid of the unwanted.
A group of friends had a housemate so foul that they staged a group moving out, just to get rid of him.


They realised that if they said they were all moving out, this chap would move out too- he wouldn't stay on his own, and didn't want to live with a bunch of strangers. So they hired a big van, packed up the entire house, said their goodbyes and drove away.

They came back the next day, unpacked everything, changed the locks and lived happily ever after, for a while. Said grim housemate was never heard of again!
(, Thu 12 Apr 2007, 13:55, Reply)
It's name was Dave.
And it stank. (I can't bring myself to think of it as "he" it must be sub-human.Perhaps feral.)
It lived with me for a year and a half, paid nothing.

It had two showers over the course of that time. When I kicked it out the room had to be sterlised. The smell was somewhat akin to Foul Ole Ron for those discworld fans. This became known as the infamous "Eau de Dave"

We later discoverd while it was claiming poverty as its reason to give me any rent that he spent approximatley £30 a week on its pay as you go phone and judging from the litter around £10 a day on rainbow drops (Small manky sweets that are basically e-numbers colouring and sugar)To put that in context they are about 10p for a fair size bag.

It worked in record shop and got paid in 50p records. It thought this was a good deal.

Possibly the worst point was when I had to clean the room. I had a spoon attached to a bowl by mould. I was able to stack 3 glasses on this and it was still solid. They went swifty in the bin.

It now lives in a hostel, is still to take a shower, became emo and has a child bride of 16. It is 25.

The moral dear B3tans? DO NOT EVER LIVE WITH YOUR BEST FREIND. What is fun in the pub is not actually what you want to live with.


Length/Girth? Got to make a good first impression!

p.s - We are no longer best freinds. In fact I declared him my nemesis 2 years ago.
(, Thu 12 Apr 2007, 13:53, Reply)
Not the worst thing in the world, by any stretch of the imagination, but I did rent a wee room from a guy who's mother owned a house in Leeds.

Neil he was named (I'd bother to change his name for the worry of offending him, but the Cat's name would only give it away) and we worked together for a few months before deciding that I wanted to live closer to work, and living in Bradford wanted out (Who doesn't?!).

He and his stew-dernt Girlfriend (Eat your food, drink your booze, read your books with a 'Johnny five-like' speed) had just adopted a cat from the local sanctury for evil creatures.
Neil loved Star Trek (We all did, just not as much as Neil) and so decided to name his cat for an unseen menace in one episode.

So, here we have 'Minion'. Or fully named: 'The Souless Minion of Authodoxy'.
He was 13lbs of Velocoraptor claws, manky-malting fur, shit speckled starfish, with the bronchial coughing of a pluresy infested whore who hated everyone and tended to bring back 'tokens' ranging from birds that had been dead for many weeks (Decomposing, maggot filled carcasses that he himself wasn't nearly smart enough to kill) to giant dog turds and HUGE rats that must have taken an Army of Minions to bring down and transport to our living room.

When Minion went missing, there wopuld be faithful Neil out in the garden, in his dressing-gown (No matter what time of day) shouting:
"Minion! Where are you, puss? Oh, Souless one! Come back to daddy!"
We lived in a reasonably rough part of Leeds, I had a small amount of street cred that I saw sneaking out with every 'Minion spot'.

When ever you would eat, the cat would sit his shitty (Literally) arse on your plate if you got up for more than a second or were sat anywhere he could reach! (Bad Minion!)

Other than that we had some good times, Me, K-man, Neil, Uncle Jon 'the porn king'.

Then Neil went a bit weired.
Maybe tales of Everquest adiction and Biker-fighting will follow.

Sory about the length...
Never had any complaints so far!
Fnar! Fnar!
(, Thu 12 Apr 2007, 13:44, Reply)
Could've killed the bastard
I used to work for an extremely well known and loathed telephone company on their 150 help desk here in blighty.
I was fired ultimately for being an insubordinate little shit and calling my boss a liar.
So, lost me job had no cash, having trouble paying the rent at my place (first move from home btw)
So my parents talked me into staying with them for a few days, to help get myself together.
So, I go back to my shaed flat, stopping for some shopping on the way, came home, opened the door to my room to see some oily student type, in my bed, masturbating to my pornography on my TV.
I hit the roof, he hit the walls several times as I forcably removed him from my sight.
I confronted my flat mate, who evidently thought i was going to be gone longer and that his visitng pal would be gone and i'd be none the wiser. He started out semi-apologetically before turning it into somehow my fault. I promptly shattered his nose, called my friend with a truck, packed and left.
Disrespectful git. I did sneak into his room, while he was fixing his face and cunningly place strong magnets in his own porn cupboard and erased his grainy 70's euro porn collection.
That'll teach the disrespectful swine!
(, Thu 12 Apr 2007, 13:25, Reply)
Like JTW
Not strictly roomies as such but my old neighbours were noisy shaggers. However, they were both in their late fifties and not in the best of health. He had at some point had a lung removed, while she was a forty a day smoker.

Every sunday at 08:35 without fail the knocking of the headboard would wake me up with a rhythmatic "Thud. Thud. Thud" noise, which increased in tempo to be accompanied by the splutterings and wheezes of both bronchially challenged old giffers.

"Ah-hAAAAAAAAAAArn. Hack-hack-hhhharse!"

"Oh! [Pant-splutter-wheeze] God! [pant-splutter-wheeze]"
(, Thu 12 Apr 2007, 13:07, Reply)
Sorry I am late...but
I just can't choose a story from my 5 years' worth of flat shares! To save me the trouble, just click on 'NJ' and read my previous posts. Lazy I know, but there'll be a new QOTW soon.
PS - the girl that hung the pants out in the street had a cat, whose litter tray NEVER got cleaned out [boke].
(, Thu 12 Apr 2007, 13:03, Reply)
Yvonne and Freya
Once shared a house in Bristol with a workmate I knew quite well, and a girl called Yvonne who also worked with us, but whom neither of us really knew. My move was forced because my parents were moving into a smaller house and there wasn’t really room for me (this was after Uni when I was living with them in a massive house where I had my own bathroom). So I had no choice but to enter the wonderful and frightening world of house-share.

This lasted from 1993 - 1998 when I bought my own house (blissful solitude!). Andrew and I lived in 2 houses during this time, firstly with Yvonne who lasted about a year, and then with his sister Freya.

Freya lived up to her name - she was big, blonde, and loud. She drank pints, belched, owned rats, and was mad. But, despite this, and despite having a voice louder than 10,000 foghorns, Freya was no problem and we all had a great time - house sharing can be a real laugh, as long as you get on with the people you’re sharing with. I sometimes felt a bit excluded as Andrew and Freya were brother and sister, but not very often and they were great mates, I still see them from time to time.

But before this happy period, there was the aforementioned Yvonne. Now, she was in no way as bad as some of the horrendous sociopaths, psycopaths and squalor fiends I’ve enjoyed reading about here, but she did cause Andrew and I a few problems which made living with her a pain in the arse.

She never washed any of her clothes and her room stank. It was piled high with unwashed clothes. Andrew and I used to look inside it in horrified fascination at the mess. It was a tiny room and looked like a tramp’s jumble sale. We once found plates of half-eaten Chinese food UNDERNEATH discarded T-shirts, knickers etc. It was funny at first, but we had to keep her door closed as if left open the fierce, sickly sweet fetor would pervade the rest of the house.

We gave her money to pay the Council Tax (we split responsibility for household bills). She never paid it. She hid the threatening letters and summons, etc, and we ended up paying more because of this.

She kept disgusting food in the fridge, e.g. a polythene bag of sliced hard-boiled eggs she brought back from a funeral. This remained there for weeks until I threw it away. Oh God, the smell. The smell.

Once, when Andrew and I were away for a weekend, she threw a party. When I came back found that people had been in my room and fiddled with my hi-fi and stuff, breaking some things. After that, we could no longer trust her, and out she went, and in came Freya and the good times began.

Boring, I know, compared to other stories.


And I believe it is customary to make some joke about length.

Dr S
(, Thu 12 Apr 2007, 12:49, Reply)
I can be a bit of a pain to live with I suppose. It's down to a few of the random skills I've picked up over the years.

Knife throwing.

My current flat has a few random knife holes around the kitchen. Normally caused by my flatmate asking me to demonstrate my prowess to impress whoever he's brought back. The door in the living room had to be sanded down, filled, and repainted after I spent a night teaching a SBS major how to throw knives.

And don't ask about when I start fire-breathing

(, Thu 12 Apr 2007, 12:41, Reply)
One word. Laxative

As an aside - I've mentioned a former Uni housemate of mine "Hilly" before. Feckin' pysycho-nutter-hellspawn-evil-bitch-cow that she was.

And breathe.

Her boyfriend took the cake, biscuit and the tin too. He was the most ignorant twat you could imagine - he was obnoxious, rude and plain unpleasant.

To me and Mike anyway.

He'd come into the house - no knocking - look in the front room for the aforementioned cow - see me and/or Mike - ignore us then go looking for her. If there were other people in the room, he'd say hi to them and ignore me and Mike.


I really grew to hate him. With a vengeance. This didn't exactly help my relationship with Hilly, but it did mean that I could be angry more. He hated and didn't talk to me and that was just fine.

There was, of course, the now infamous incident where I, shitfaced, with Mike and Mark (who also hated the bitch) ranted on about "If he were here" and "I hate him", etc - Took me a while to twig that Mark and Mike were quiet - and Arse-bloke was stood behind me.

Of course.

Didn't see him after I left Uni - The next time I did, however, see him was 6 years later at my mate's stag do - He still wouldn't talk to me.

Last seen dissapearing into a "booth" at a strip club with a woman more man than Dan's ever going to be.....

Oh, Hilly was last heard of as being pregnant and was "ill" for 6 months. She always was a bit precious...

No, I'm not belittling pregnancy, but she always was a proper hypochondriac
(, Thu 12 Apr 2007, 12:20, Reply)
I'm on my way
I've become a terrible flatmate lately. I never do any housework, I fart constantly, and I ignore my flatmate when he talks to me. This last thing really seems to annoy him.

He likes to be listened to, and always thinks he's right, so if I just pretend I'm not interested he gets genuinely irritated. I could buy small animals, kill them, and leave them in his bed, but I don't think that would have even half the effect of just ignoring him. He hates it.
(, Thu 12 Apr 2007, 12:17, Reply)
Don't do it Dan!
He's clearly not worth it. Just let him eat the crabsticks and all will be well.

As for me... I have two nice housemates and one who is rarely there. The biggest inconvenience? The kitchen sometimes is dirty, especially after housemate #1 has been cooking, but he cooks nice food so that's okay. And I paid his rent for January, but he's paid me back.

So it could indeed be said that I don't have a story for this week. Erm...yes.
(, Thu 12 Apr 2007, 11:53, Reply)
I have cleaned the fridge I share with my scummy wanker housemate several times over the last week or two.

I awoke this morning and ventured into the kitchen to make myself a brew, opened the fridge to find the following;

*Orange juice fucking EVERYWHERE!
*my milk carton stuck to the fridge because of this.
*the fucking muppet had left uncovered crab sticks on his shelf overnight and so all my food now smells of Grimsby.
*a brown stain which I really hope was chocolate/branston all down the inside of the door.

watch the news tonight folks.

(, Thu 12 Apr 2007, 11:08, Reply)
Allotment shame
Me and my (Ex) Flatmate once played an eighteen month version of 'who can survive with no money the longest'
After both quitting our jobs on the same day and stocking up on Ketchup and Monster Munch, the game was on.
About a year flew by in a haze of cheap strong cider, cheap strong drugs & cheap strong women, posessions were sold, the rent remained unpaid and we slowly degenerated into beasts, squabbling over raw pasta shells and handouts.
Beards were grown, Dole money was scoffed at and we rarely ventured outside. A new language developed, as did several new species of fungi on the walls.
We would have the TV and stereo blaring continuously and laugh at the neighbour banging on our paper thin walls.

I knew the game was over, eighteen months later when we found ourselves scrabbling around on our hands and knees in the local allotments stealing onions and potatoes at midnight. We went home and cooked a lovely big pot of onion and potatoe hot water stew.
It was fucking disgusting.
Days later two notices of 'Accelerated Reposession' plopped though the letterbox.
We opened them after a few weeks and left with tears in our eyes.

Worst flatmate ? - It was a draw
(, Thu 12 Apr 2007, 11:02, Reply)
The icing on the cake
This is very, very tame compared to most of the previous posts but I have a low tolerance threshold and this still makes me angry today.

Whilst at university I brought a lovely hand made (by my mum's friend) coffee cake into our flat in halls of residence. I gave all my flat mates have a huge slice each and they all agreed it was delicious.

Next morning, Helen the attention seeking bitch had got up in the night, scraped all the icing off the outside, eaten it and left the rest of the cake.

Argh! I hoped posting this may have been therapeutic, it wasn't.
(, Thu 12 Apr 2007, 10:57, Reply)
Illegal Alien
IN my first year at Uni (in the same flat as my previous story) a lil chinese girl moved in. Then vanished. We tried for ages to contact her leaving notes under her door etc... After a while away from the flat (could have been xmas???) I'm the first to move back. and notice the smell of garlic. and notice all the pots and pans have been used. and notice the fucking state the place is in. and notice that our lil chinese girl, had turned in to this slightly taller, slightly more butch chinese girl. Turns out, lil chinese girl used the pre-tense of an english education to gain access to the country and then disappear, while subletting to the bigger chinese girl (i think the big one paid the little one for the room?)....needless to say we got biggie kicked out. She wasnt even a student.
(, Thu 12 Apr 2007, 10:36, Reply)
Ok, not exactly a housemate....

I currently live in a terraced house so the walls are pretty thin so my neighbour might as well be my bloody housemate.


Anyway, they're not the most attractive people in the world and given the state of their yard - slobs. (Actually, they have cleaned up recently and they are nice people).

But with the thin walls, I can hear them at it. Now, if it was 2 attractive people, you might be able to ignore it, but when it's not and you can hear 2 fat, unattractive people going at it - that's when you need a mind-wash.

(, Thu 12 Apr 2007, 8:34, Reply)
Rachel - I can't remember her surname - had a boyfriend - whose name I really never gave a stuff about.

She was nice enough, a bit posh (she had horses) but she had this skinny, rocker, lanky, unwashed long haired freak of a boyfriend who, I reckon, she was seeing to upset Mummy and Daddy...


She was a screamer - all bloody night - clearly he was good in the sack. Really, I'm happy for you, but I don't want to hear that kind of nonsense.

I often wanted to hose my head out when they were done....

Oh, I'm not angry today - I'm in Paris working (really - working)

Anger will return soon.
(, Thu 12 Apr 2007, 7:36, Reply)
In my first year (Uni) I used to live with a guy who was, originally, from Zimbabwe - except he always referred to it as Rhodesia or "Zim".

He was a white guy, in case you're wondering - his family had land and farms and the like (I wonder where they are now.......)

There wasn't anything sinister about him, but he wasn't your typical student - didn't drink, never went out, always cleaned up after himself and was just disconcertingly odd - and horribly upper class.

What the hell he was doing in a shit house just off London road in Sheffield (Kearsley road, in case you're wondering) is beyond me.

He never seemed to attend lectures either.

Still, he wasn't as bad as the ex-con nutter bloke that moved in the next year (see my last post)

Wooyay - I'm back :o)
(, Thu 12 Apr 2007, 7:33, Reply)
The Jizz Master
Just to keep things confidential, let’s give this guy a made up name, um, let’s call him Kevin.

Kevin was 26 and lived in a flat filled with 19 year olds. He was a short, stocky, hairy, profusely sweaty chap whose sexual urges and desires far outweighed his ability to fulfill them in the normal time honored tradition of shagging girls. This led to some rather aberrant behavior. Let’s move through the list shall we?

1. Caught masturbating on the upstairs landing while listening to our girlfriends chat in the downstairs lounge. On two different occasions.
2. Describing to said girls the color of their underwear while they leaned forward to grab their drinks.
3. Consistently winning the household trophy for the longest shower in the history of masturbation.
4. Having a constantly wet mattress (he had the only video player in the house and we used to have to go into his room to watch movies)
5. ‘Jizzumriffic’ scented room.
6. Caught sleeping, sucking his index and middle fingers with his ear pressed up against the door of my bedroom after a night spent listening to me and my missus shag. He got a kick in the stomach for that one.
7. There was a little young Asian chap who would come round from time to time…
8. Describing his experiences of ‘circle-jerking’ when he was twelve.

Other non sexually orientated weirdness from Jizz master K…

1. Wearing tiny little stubby shorts, sitting in the middle of the lounge and eating mandarin oranges, but instead of eating the whole mandarin he would eat swallow the juice and spit the mashed up rind into a plastic bag, noisily, in front of anyone.
2. Once not making it up the stairs to the toilet in time to realize he needed more bog paper, falling down on the stairs and screaming until someone fetched him some.
3. Having a hissy fit when anyone ever touched his food, which was odd because he was…
4. …an avowed Marxist. I thought they were all about sharing everything until no one has anything except the guy at the top? I hate you filthy commies.

In the same flat there was a guy called Dinky. Dinky was a young Maori boy, quite skinny and prone to, um, we believe it was schizophrenia. One day some fool company gave him a credit card. He went on a drug binge. He was dancing around the lounge, singing about Jesus and waving a decent size knife or two. We tried to get him to put the knives down, but he didn’t and instead proceeded to run into the city. He was eventually found dancing in a convenience store, with said knifes. The police set about him with dogs, which savaged him, and then they beat the living shit out of him. When some mail eventually did come for him, it turned out his name really was Dinky.

On the other hand, once I lived with a guy who managed to grow five enormous (6foot plus high) cannabis plants in our backyard. I remember harvest day fondly, and not much more of the next few weeks after that.
(, Thu 12 Apr 2007, 6:55, Reply)
Not his only effot but the one worth mentioning the most.
My old flatmate was a right tight bastard. Being a student, we all were but he took it to extremes. It wasn't uncommon to go into the kitchen of a morning and find that he had washed his used condoms and left them in the dish drainer to dry overnight.
(, Thu 12 Apr 2007, 1:44, Reply)
B@st@rd Housem8
I once got beaten up when my bastard housemate decided to remove the jingles from my tambourine the night before I went out busking. I tell you, the next morning I looked like a proper fruit cake when doing my re-enactment of the Battle of Hastings in 10 seconds down Kings Road without my jingles.
(, Thu 12 Apr 2007, 0:23, Reply)
Aussie c**t


To all aussies that have left a perfectly good house in Walthamstow recently and pissed off to Manchester with out telling anyone, I still have your bond money for the house and a bill for 3months rent!

(, Thu 12 Apr 2007, 0:01, Reply)
Am i evil?
Take one house,
fill with poor stoner friends.

Wait till food starts to go missing (not very fcukin long!)

Make chocolate rice crispy treats, and tell everyone not to eat them on pain of death.

leave in fridge, near to affor mentioned pot smokers.

neglete to inform friends that said rice crispy treats were made with a heroic dose of ex-lax chocolate.

roll on floor laughing then accuse person(s) who cannot stray from toilet for more than 20 minutes. (if your kind/weak you'd make sure their was plenty of TP in stock, alas - I'm evil)

Reading this through I think I've just made a case for myself as the housemate from hell...

still, worth a giggle.
(, Wed 11 Apr 2007, 23:55, Reply)
Gavin saw nothing wrong with setting fire to a live chicken in his room. You could smell it for weeks, and chicken shit with burning flesh is not a nice smell :(

(name changed to protect the guilty)
(, Wed 11 Apr 2007, 23:26, Reply)
I lived in halls for all my 3 years of uni. I pity the poor sods who will be sharing a house with my brother next year, however. He smells a bit, due to lack of showers and teeth-cleaning (came home from uni with a bar of soap that looked like it hadn't been used). He will probably eat all the food in the middle of the night. He won't bother with things like cleaning and washing-up. He will almost certainly max out the broadband. And he will growl like a right twunt when accused of doing anything wrong.
(, Wed 11 Apr 2007, 23:14, Reply)
Evicted alien
South Manchester, pre-Desert Storm Mark I, in a shared house with a slightly mis-matched bunch of folk: the professional dentist hanging onto the last vestiges of studenthood by living in a cheap rat-hole, the couple with cats on the ground floor (one of their rooms being a de facto litter tray for the moggies (no tray, just the much-abused carpet), the devout (selfish) Christian, the student rag writer, the obligatory stoner (a certain Groover J.), and dear old Assad (name unchanged to persecute the guilty).

Assad was Iraqi, and had lived there for ages. He was writing his thesis (in a tiny room packed to the rafters with suspicious boxes) on a number-plate recognition scheme, approved and supported by the existing regime, which would send a letter to the criminal and deduct the corresponding amount from his unsuspecting bank account. Nice guy.

Assad lived entirely off boiled (frozen) mince with small sour aubergines and various pungent spices which reacted spectacularly badly with a hangover the morning (imagine the smell of rancid regurgitated doner kebab, inhale once, then boke). He also left computer-printed notes (a novelty in 1989) all over the shop in badly-written English (PLEASE NOT TO OVERENJOY HOT WATER. ENJOY YOUR TIME). These were ceremoniously burnt one evening after an over-indulgence with the smokables.

Fast-forward a year or so, with anti-Iraqi feeling running high (they were killing our boys! Hell!) The house was suspiciously broken into a couple of times, but without anything being stolen. Somewhat odd in South Manchester, even then.

Eventually (via the front page of the student rag), the truth became known. Assad had been escorted off the premises (and out of the country) by Special Branch, as he had been recruiting naive teenagers (does such a thing exist in South Manc?) for services for the Iraqi resistance.

I wonder where he is now.

On second thoughts, I don't. I somehow think that the last thing the Iraqis need is some pervert fining them for speeding...
(, Wed 11 Apr 2007, 21:45, Reply)
Are you a female from Emsworth?
If so, did you live in a house in Westbourne in 1983, liked irish folk music and a lesbian ?

Because, you boring sad fat stupid female, I hope you got off with someone eventually but dont ever get near me again.

If you'd been attractive I might have been game.

Rant over.
(, Wed 11 Apr 2007, 20:32, Reply)
Snowing in the kitchen
My flat mates had gone out for a night out, and me being broke stayed in....now i was prepared for the ruckus and noise on their return and ignored it. the next morning however I wander into the kitchen and discover a thick white powder layer on everything as if it had been snowing in the kitchen....turned out they had sat fire to some sausages they tried to cook and used the carbon dioxide fire extinguisher....on everything...grrrrr...
(, Wed 11 Apr 2007, 19:02, Reply)
bad in retrospect
About 2 years ago me and the now-ex moved down to brighton, and moved in with my brother and his girlfriend. The house was always a tip and there were always randoms coming and going. Never any arguments about tidying or washing up or noise or anything, just lots of chilling and happiness (well, apart from the sour-faced ex, but never mind).

Anyway, one day my brother's mate Paul moved in after his girlfriend kicked him out. He's a bit of a waster and generally sat around watching porn, getting stoned or drunk and trying to avoid getting fired from his job (which didn't work in the end). Anyway, he acted pretty much like a lot of the people in these stories, but strangely it all seemed to fit and everyone rubbed along alright (well, until he launched into an anti-christian tirade against my brother's girlfriend's best friend one night, and swiftly got given his marching orders...and we got the sofa in the front room back).

So yeah, that was about a year and a half ago...and last Friday I found out that he'd been boasting to some friends of mine that while he was living there he'd taken my ex (my gf at the time, obviously) out to a fetish club after she'd started a row with me and run off, and he'd shagged her. And then continued to pretend to be my mate for the next year and a half.

So yeah, in retrospect he was actually the worst housemate I've had. Still, karma's a wonderful thing - following a lot of incidents including nicking money out of the till at my brother's pub when he'd been given a job there as a favour and generally being a moaning sod, he's going to find that the next time he gets dumped and kicked out his options of places to crash will be limited :D

As for the ex...frankly I'd be surprised if he was the only bloke she was knocking off behind my back. Dumping her felt so good I'd happily get back with her so I could do it again....but that's a different QOTW innit? Girls are funny creatures - watch out for the ones who make unfounded accusations of infidelity against you, chances are they're doing it to cover up their own little adventures.
(, Wed 11 Apr 2007, 17:36, Reply)

This question is now closed.

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