In my second year at uni, it was a house full of 5 guys
and the dynamic quickly split the house in half. Thinking six years down the line, Im still in two minds about whether I hate the three guys who made that year hell, or love them. They were something like the Marx Brothers, with a kilo of charlie shoved up their combined noses.
One, tall, thin, violent, a Sports Scientist. The next, wiser, old, stockier, and the brains of the bunch.
But Johnny. Oh, Johnny. I miss that crazy son of a bitch. When sober, Johnny was the nicest guy in the world, if not the cleverest, but when plied with cheap alcohol and drugs, Johnny was a monster. Johnny set himself on fire. Johnny can fit 54 Maltesers in his mouth. Johnny got arrested for shitting on the pub pool table and then falling asleep naked in that pile of faeces.

Between the three of them, they were banned from 50 pubs in Portsmouth. They once bought an incontinent ferret for a fiver and let it loose in the house before letting it roam free in Portsmouth's happy streets. They smashed every plate, cup and bowl in the house clay pigeon shooting, but throwing rocks because they didnt have guns. They lifted the entire three piece suite and the TV a mile to the beach just to watch the football by the sea (and were then arrested for Fly Tipping) Every single one of our neighbours hated us, the police visited once a month because of their combined antics, the landlord couldn't kick them out and they did a total of 10 grands worth of damage to a poxy student house. I despised them, but, thinking back, I admired them.
( Grrrmachine the indifference engine, Thu 5 Apr 2007, 21:02, Reply)