Sex, drugs, extramarital affairs, lost wealth, rancid meat, and used jamrags
Fuck me! I really could go to town on the batshit loons I've had to live with over the years. Here's the highlights.

One couple moved into a room in the house I shared, they seemed nice but it was obvious they were looking for somewhere to live in a hurry. We thought they were fairly nice people compared to the other nutjobs who'd applied so we decided to give them the room.

A week or two passed and he'd been through three jobs as a security guard, while his wife was hard at work as a human rights lawyer.
By now it was obvious that he was keeping stuff from her, like the time he ran out back to smoke "hash", or so we thought at the time.
Turns out he was smoking heroin, crack, and pretty much everything else he could get his hands on.
He'd get the elbow from another job he'd lost after scoffing down a few disco biscuits and leaving his post without even telling anyone, then come home to switch on the gas hob, blow out the flame for some reason, and fuck off again to see his dealer for the afternoon.
We'd come home and smell the reek of gas filling the house and be able to get no sense out of him whatsoever.
One day the local paper had pictures of some crack den busts in the city, and forgot to pixel out the face of one female detainee. So, fresh from having just denied outright to us that he was ripped to the tits on Class A substances, two minutes later he pointed the female dealer out in the paper and said: "You know, she's such a bitch. She gets all huffy if you don't have enough cash for the crack. It's so fucking rude!"
He really didn't have a clue why this statement would seem so odd to us.
He'd rest lit cigarettes on the livingroom carpet before going for a kip. The amount of times he nearly burned the house down was astonishing.

As usual, his wife would come home, and see his eyes rolling in his head like a fruit machine and leave for a few days. Turns out he'd taken £800 of her hard-earned cash out of her account to pay for the stuff too. He'd speak like a baby on the phone to her, call her "Bunny", she'd forgive him, and believe him when the unemployed waster told her he'd never touch it again.
This happened around every two weeks for the six months they were there. Each time she took him back, claiming he was done with the drugs.
She used to be a drug counsellor, so she claimed she'd be able to tell if he was an addict. Truth be told, she was the only one who couldn't tell. Or refused to believe it for the 15th time.
Shame. She was pretty nice, but she's dug her own grave. He's found his goldmine - a rich woman who is blinded by his charms, poor though they may be. Thanks to some seriously bad parenting he's never had to face up to anything in his life. They've always just swept it under the carpet.
They only left because the landlord threatened to bring in the police after asking him outright: "Have you used drugs on my property?"
His reply was astounding: "No, I haven't used drugs on your property. I just smoked crack in the garden, and had some herion round the back where no one would see."

When they left, some young girl moved in, about 17, who seemed ok, but was a bit shy. She brought a cat with her, despite not mentioning it when asked earlier. She used emotional blackmail in a phonecall ten minutes before she was due to move in to get her way.
"Hey, sorry, I forgot to mention. I have a young cat. Can I bring her with me? If it's not ok, I can 'get rid of it'."
What are we supposed to do?
Not only was she paying no rent, letting her cat soil the place, and refusing to clean up after it or herself, but she didn't even give money for bills. She worked at an army base on the catering staff, and was shagging one of the married soldiers whose wife had a baby on the way. She didn't realise that he was using her cause the wife couldn't perform: "No, it's not like that or nuffink! He loves me! We're going to get custody of the baby when it's born, innit!"
Silly hoor was dumped the minute the wife shat out the sprog.
She also got our address banned from using several taxi firms because she'd jump out and run off after refusing to pay.
To avoid paying any cash for bills or rent whatsoever, she just up and left one day while we were at work, taking some of our stuff with her without any warning.
Thank fuck. I couldn't bare to hear her get loudly violated again. Hence, I never asked for my airbed back.

Finally, there's SmEllah (nickname given due to her personal hygiene.) After she'd finished using Dracula's Teabags, she'd just lob them out her window. She rarely flushed.
Her room stank to high heavens. She'd leave rancid meat of questionable origin out to thaw for days, till the blood was running down the worktop and all over the floor, and worst of all, would put food on the hob and just leave the house for hours, forgetting it was there. It was a daily occurrence. If she couldn't be arsed to finish the corn on the cob she had in her hand she'd just put lay it down on the hallway carpet and refuse to pick it up.
She also managed to run up a £420 phonebill in my name one month because she couldn't be arsed to use the discount phonecard she had when calling Kenya. She still owed me £120 for the previous month.
One weeknight I was awaoken harshly when she came rolling in at 2am, the stereo from some guy's car pounding as it parked directly outside my window.
She got in, shouting all the way, then went into her room and turned the stero up loud as she could. I was about to get up, knock on her door, and tel her to keep it down, when I heard the first moan.
She wasn't alone.
Suddenly, the music wasn't loud enough for my liking.
The thought of that skanky bitch getting nailed turned my stomach.
Hope it was worth it though. Judging by the moans, he gave her the best 4 minutes he had in him.

Oh, and I suppose I could also mention the ex who moved in without asking. I've mentioned her before somewhere. She had a hair-trigger temper and started arguments at the drop of a hat. Never paid her share of the rent or bills, and even got me to help with her car insurance.
Once when we came home from work she went apesshit at the state of the house (it was all her mess).
The conversation then went exactly thus:

Me: "Don't worry about it. I'll sort this out. It's Friday night, sit down, put your feet up, I'll go get you a glass of wine, while I sort out this mess."

Her: "You insensative BASTARD! How dare you!"

I better go. I'll be here all day if I mention any more.

If you too have struggled to rid yourself of social parasites and misfits in your home, click, "I like this"
(Barry Subchimp, Fri 6 Apr 2007, 13:51, Reply)