I’ve never been the tidiest person in the world.
Just ask poor old FoldsFive. He spends more time putting away books and shoes and CDs of mine than doing anything else. However, it is just clutter and not dirt, or filth. When I first moved out of home at the age of 18 after a massive row with my ma, my older brother and I were both students at Coventry Uni. We moved into a student house together and kept it clean and (relatively) tidy.

The landlord told us that we would be having some more tenants moving in. My bro and me pretty much kept to ourselves so it wouldn’t be an issue, really. Enter Andy and Jess. They were a couple and not students but we let this pass. We really shouldn’t have because in the six months that I lived there they:

1) Left the majority of their belongings in the hallway outside my bedroom which I kept tripping over.
2) Moved in their own manky looking fridge freezer. Once at a party, we looked in it and there was a black plastic sack in the freezer compartment and something resembling a human foetus in just behind that.
3) Only ever used mine and my bro’s cups, plates, bowls, pots, pans and cutlery. And then never washed it up leading to:
4) Me having a quick tidy up before a party only to discover when I moved the sofa plates and with mouldy food on them and cutlery strewn everywhere under the sofa. (Incidentally, it took me longer to tidy up before the party than afterwards).
5) FoldsFive stopped coming round because the house was constantly a state, it smelled rank, of rotting food and body odour (and I swear to Christ, none of this smell was anything to do with me). Their personal hygiene was disgraceful and my bro, me and FoldsFive soon boycotted the chip shop where they both worked. I don’t ever recall them once taking a bath or a shower when I’d been in the house.
6) My brother and I investigated their room when they were out and if the living room looked like a bomb had hit it, their bedroom looked like three A bombs had been dropped on it, along with a fuck load of stink bombs.

My brother was going through a bad time at that point and so had been drinking a bit. He came home one night and tore up the place, kicking fuck out of the bags and boxes that they STILL hadn’t moved from the hallway (they’d been there for about five months by this point). It was after this, I moved out. I couldn't, and still don't understand to this day, how people can live like that.

Possibly gone off topic a little and onto the subject of housemates from hell, but still, they thought it was NORMAL to never ever do the washing up and live like pigs in shit.
( Blue Star was working part time at the 5 and Dime, Mon 29 Mar 2010, 16:40, Reply)