» Housemates from hell

Fond memories
When I was a strodent I shared a house with four other guys and a girl (who officially didn't live there but actually did quite a lot of the time much to the chagrin of others). Our flat was bad to start with and got quickly worse thanks to having no clean dishes after the first week (the enitre contents being balanced delicately on the 'coffee table' in our front room along with every glass and mug in the house and an array of beer cans). Mostly people ate out of pans and drank out of measuring jugs and the like.

One of our flatmates was a touch unstable (the night he spent charging out into the street with a knife every time he heard a noise and threatening to stab one of our flatmates springs to mind). The unstable one would live on cheese and tuna toasties. Our scouse flatmate would live on ready meals (five for a pound in ASDA), apart from once when he tried to deep fry chips in a milk pan with obvious results.

Given that nothing was ever cleaned and the bin was only emptied when the pile of mouldy food on top of it was basically at its critical limit the kitchen was not particularly hygenic. As a result our nutrient deprived scouse flatmate caught a strain of gut rot so serious that Evironmental Health had to come out and check our water supply. At which point they also realised we had rats. It transpired that the reason for my scouse flatmate's debilitating dose of the shits (it lasted for about two weeks, he also had to stay in hospital for a while) was mouldy cheese and tuna. This increased tensions somewhat. Also one of the downstairs toilets was blocked so our scouse flatmate was constantly in the only avaiable shitter, which stank.

This is but one occurence. There were many others. By the end of our tenure we had stalagtites on the walls resulting from wet garlic bread fights, also knife holes. A large hole in a plasterboard wall resulting from us kicking a hole in the wall when drunk. The hole was filled, expertly in our view (but not our landlord's) by a dirty pizza box. And an obscene mural depicting our welsh friend engaging in familial relations with a sheep drawn on our kitchen wall in green stablio marker.

The year after this I moved out. Everyone else decided that they got along just fine really and moved in again.
(Wed 11th Apr 2007, 15:36, More)

» Posh

Norfolk Gentry
Having lived a fairly nomadic life my accent tends, rather inexplicably, to originate from somewhere in Hertfordshire. As I am currently living in Newcastle my accent automatically gains me 'posh' status despite the majority of my life having been lived in Norfolk. For some reason women find this attractive, I often find the addition of white lies such as 'my parents own two farms / rollers ...' help as well.

They usually only realise their mistake when they wake up and the tv's gone.
(Thu 15th Sep 2005, 14:54, More)