I lasted six days...
but I should have realised something wasn't right much sooner.

Huge house in Darlington, elderly couple lived there and rented out rooms to mugs. I was one of them. Went round for visit before renting... house nice and clean, no pets, landlords sweet as pie.

Moved in - house full of dogs, cats and parrots (where the hell did they hide them?), stinking of animals, landlords drunk as skunks.

I came home to find that my landlady had been through all my boxes of possessions and unpacked everything for me - from CDs to pants - "to make me feel like home". actually, it made me feel invaded and cross.

anyway, general weirdness continues until day five. should mention that landlady sleeps on ground floor, her husband in separate bedroom on first floor (separate bedrooms are one thing but separate floors? that's a bit excessive), and I have the bedroom next to his.

come midnight and I'm awoken by demonic shrieking "MARY! MARY! MARY!" (for that was not my landlady's name, but it'll do for now) coming from the bedroom next door. I bang on the door "Are you alright Mr. X?" No answer, just more screaming "MARY! MARY! MARY!". I run downstairs, bang on my landlady's door. She comes upstairs, goes into her husband's room (he's still yelling) and starts yelling herself.

10 minutes later the ambulance arrive. apparently my landlord is utterly sozzled, pissed himself, fell out of bed, can't get up... yet when the ambulance men try to help him he starts swearing, lashing out, refuses to let them help him, so they have to leave.

he keeps screaming for his wife "MARY! MARY! MARY!" who has got cheesed off with him and gone downstairs again. I bang on her door again and she shouts back to just ignore him. She tells me: "I'm sick of the crazy bastard. He did this last week too. And the week before he chased me around the garden with a knife. I'm going to leave him"

at 4am he finally stops screaming. not that I slept a wink.

next morning at breakfast, Mrs Landlady hands round polaroids she took of her husband the previous night. pissed out his mind, in a pool of his own piss and poop even, stark-bollock naked. she says she's handing round the polaroids "to teach him a lesson".

I moved out later that day.
Minus any rent, because her husband suddenly became a "dear elderly man who was taken a little poorly" and apparently I was trying to take advantage of them. The bastarding bastardy bastards.

ho hum
( biscuitbiscuit is in ur garden, watering ur plantz, Sat 7 Apr 2007, 23:36, Reply)