Ahh, the oft-recounted story of sock mountain...
A mate of mine moved in 'for a couple of weeks while he sorted himself out'.

This was lies, and not something I'd have minded when he was still here some four months later.

But the mountain.

Jesus.

He never seemed to wash, and flat-out refused to do any washing... the pile of clothes in his room soon escalated to some 5 feet high, and began to gain the smell of a thousand year-old curries, with a slight hint of rotting sweat.

Turns out the horrible git was just picking stuff from the bottom of the pile and wearing it again, leading to body odour that would make homeless people consider him unsuitable for companionship.

I eventually took matters into my own hands when he was at work, using a shovel, a pair of marigolds and a large sack, dumping this behemoth of stink outside the back door.

The stain on the carpet remains to this day, as does a faint whiff of ungrateful git.
(ArfurDaley Must try harder., Mon 9 Apr 2007, 13:35, Reply)

Warzone
In our second year at uni, my boyfriend lived witth two guys and two girls. For a couple of months, everything was going well and everyone got on. But then the house divded. We noticed that one of the guys and one of the girls weren't doing any tidying, cleaning or washing up. Not just the odd plate, but takeaway containers left to grow stuff in the lounge, bits of food all over the floor, plates left for food to ingrain itself. And when they ran out of their own plates, they started using the others stuff. When I was staying I got so fed up with it that I gave in and did the washing up, scrubbed the tables etc and hoovered. It didn't stay clean for long though. They were back to their usual ways, leaving the toilet in a state etc. By the the end of the year we took to locking our stuff in our rooms to stop them using it. The atmosphere in the house was so bad, I felt really uncomfortable being there. It sucked.

I also met one person with really bad hayfever and they had obviously been too lazy to get a tissue, cos there was snot smeared all over the door :S
( El Lazarus is calm now, Ish,, Mon 9 Apr 2007, 10:51, Reply)

"A complaint had been made about your behaviour"
oohh bugger.

The letter arrived though the door of my halls of residence" room...

Now although though I did share my room with John: literally the son of a preacher-man and potentailly the nicest guy on the planet. He got one aswell.

After a rief wander, it appeared tat 6 oof us had got letters asking us to meet the student liason officer, regarding complaints about our conduct/behaviour. Much collective crapping of pants ensued.

I was the last to meet the "officer" that day, and hadn't had a chance to talk to the others before-hand.. I, a mere lad of 19 was a wee bit worried... the letter had droned on about how this could effect my university career.

Walk in, Sit down... and the guy says "Tell me about Brian" ....*and relax*

"Paranoid Schizophrenic" sayd I.

"hmm.. you're not the first to use that phrase" he said..

"goodness?? really?? maybe thta's because he's a dangerous nutter, and shouldn't be left un-guarded at nights!!"

Brian was a lad with whom we shared floor 13 of the Central Services Building at our university. Brian had a slight nervous tick when he arrived, we thought nothing of it.. He always seemed a little withdrawn, but he was a quiet sensitiv lad, so that was ok too.

Then it started to go wrong. We'd all be in the kitchen as ususal, and Brian would sidle along the wall, twitching as he went, until he could peer through the door. He'd ask why we'd been
talkign about him.. erm.. we hadn't been..

Many things like this happened, but it came to a head on one sunday night.

Many people had been away. lots of us were crowded into Neil's room playing Tekken 2 (for it was new and
spangly) and Brian was shouting.

To outline a long and rather wierd rant, Brian *KNEW* that people had been gone over the weekend purely to spread rumours about him.
How did he know this?.. The trees and the hills told him.

I shit you not.

Later in the evening he tried to break down a guy's door, and when that failed he then cornered me in the lift - at knifepoint - and made me swear that I'd stop spreading rumours. I might have made a false confession and sworn to never spread any more, then apologiesed profusely... (Did i mention that Brian was a big bloke?) ... I might have done all that, but to be honest I don't remeber: I was too busy trying to stop myself from parking my lunch in my underpants.

Brian left the university for a couple of years, only to return with a bigger twitch. We gave him a wide berth.
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Mon 9 Apr 2007, 8:01, Reply)

Oddly appropriate...
In my first year at uni last year, I replaced my ex on the contract for a house he'd agreed to live in with his mates, before getting into another uni around 200 miles south, hence him wanting to bugger off. Living with 3 guys I didn't know, had only met one of them briefly before was not at all daunting, and we generally got on really well.

There's always one though, and ours was...well, lets call him R!@h. He was ok to live with at first, but after a bit he lost his sense of humour/touch with reality, stopped being his usual fun self and started throwing tantrums for no reason, being a moody bitch, worrying that his fat body was putting women off him (it was the smell/ugliness/personality more than anything), and asking "does this shirt make me look fat?" and generally being a lady about stuff. He also messed my wok up by rinsing it after he used it every single day to make a stir fry, as he was now "on a diet", which the stupid douchebag could not shut up about. He also had fucking terrible BO, only really noticeable if you went into his room, stood by the door, or went within 2 metres of him, so in our tiny house it was pretty damn noticeable. We decided it was like a cross between shit, sweaty balls and 'wank', as he was (and still is) a virgin, so not even a sex smell for him. He actually did shower every day (at least, he got water all over the bathroom every day- a leg injury apparently made it impossible for him to get into the shower properly), but to no avail.

I always noticed the smell outside his room, but just assumed it was his general scumminess seeping out from under the door. One day, however, my parents visited, and immediately started making a fuss about the smell of gas (like, flammable, burny city gas) by the front door. A few calls to landlords and British Gas later and it turns out that gas had been leaking into his room through a tiny hole in the interior wall for ages and the room was full of it- good job he wasn't a smoker. The best bit (of our potential fire hazard) was that he couldn't even tell, his stench must have covered the smell from even him, plus he never opened with window in his room at all...also the fact that he's Jewish, and so the idea of him slowly being gassed provided us with many a sick joke. He since moved in with people who were too nice to say no to him, and is still harassing us with his smell and repellent social skills, as he has a crush on my housemate and refuses to leave her alone...He invites himself over ("I'm coming over, I've got to see you NOW, it's been an entire 3 days and I miss you!") and he cried like a little bitch when once she didn't go to his house for dinner. a restraining order might just about do it. Creep.
(Ryuken-Kai, Mon 9 Apr 2007, 4:19, Reply)

Hell holds no fear for me after this lot.
I have had my share of odd flat mates and will freely admit to being petty....

1st year Uni The girl who took over the sitting room as her TV was colour but because it was hers she got to choose what was watched, then inviting her female friend to stay over (sharing her double bed!!!) who then would stay up all night on her own and cook seperate meals, while my flat mate who blow styled her hair for an hour each morning demanded to pay less on the bills as she went home each weekend in her nice new car daddy bought her to see her boyfriend. This is the same BF who threatened to hit me because I moved the remote for the afore mentioned TV.... I said if he ever came back I would call the police. In this same flat while we were hime for christmas and easter the owner thought it was OK to stay overnight with the spare keys she kept.

2nd year Uni Owner occupier two words that should make you run a mile. Also like many of the other posts a social worker added wierdness Welsh speaking. She clearly wanted someine to pay her rent and never be there I know this cause she pretty much said it to my face. She was nice enough but did odd things like not put subtitles on when watching something in welsh because she thought it would damage the TV so I would try to read or something which was hard because she would keep telling me hat was going on “he just said to her that the baby’s not his” type thing. And one day she came home and I was playing on my game boy (old style B/W) and she freaked out thinking it might damage the TV. I never did work out how that might work. I was asked to leave due to ‘being there’ after 3 months. Then I moved in with friends who were loverly but it didn’t work out as they hadnt been married long and what with the baby they needed there space but thanks for mid term rescue. Finaly that year I ended up in a half board B+B where we were not allowed in the kitchen had to be in by 10pm no visitors and her strange grandson would hide behind the chairs in the students sitting room and spy on us. We had no say in what we had for tea and frequently if was something that I just couldn’t eat (I used to be quite fussy) and I was too poor to buy anything else (living on less than £3 per week). I learned to make meals with a kettle and did you know instant whip can be made by drinking 1/3 of a pint of milk and pour the powder into the bottle close and shake.

3rd year Uni A little tip if you’re a science student never live with art students they just ponce around smoking joints the size of parsnips and playin loud music with their mates while you try very hard to sleep the night before your exam/ big paper is due and not quite finished so requires an early start. They just don’t get it as exams happen to other people and deadlines involve making a mess on the carpet with little foam blocks and sandpaper.
Although at least one was the perfect house mate,never seen or heard and we even doubted that he existed until he got some mail!

3rd year summer break just me and one housemate left for the holidays and she is moving out in a couple of weeks. New guy comes to view a room seems a bit weird sets the spider sence jingling both of us after he leaves hope he didn’t like the place…. He did and moves in a week later he is about 35 and a philosophy student who likes the house because its near the art house cinema. Seems ok if weird, buys tesco value fizzy water cause its cheaper than the still type and makes coffee with is (I find out later that he isnt disposing of the bottles but collecting them). Wierd but harmless????? Not really the day the other girl moves out his manner changes he snaps. Coming home I say hi in the hall, as you do, only to be told in frightening terms that I will only speak to him if gives me express permision first. Among other things he is about a foot taller than me and the eyes say craaazzzyyyy…… I try to put up with coming home and locking myself in my room and hoping not to see him (when I do see him its scarey). I eventualy tell my land lady who chucks him out.

4th year more art students aggghhh!!! Nice people for the most part one guy leaves at christmas due to spending his grant and loan on gifts and travelling to see his GF. Unfortunately he left his biggest fan behind.
This is a boy who chose for his first year in Uni to leave the co-ed halls where the heating was stuck on "all the girls were running around in their undies" he complained, to move into a box room with a boiler in it just to be near his friend (who didn’t really like him that much anyway). Well we were all convinced so we took him clubbing with some gay mates of mine to get an expert opinion. It was decided that he couldn’t be gay because he hadnt ironed his T-shirt :-)
Later in the year he bought a phone as the house phone was broken and he decided he wanted a posh mobile handset which he would leave locked in his room when he went home for weekends, so we had to buy a cheap binatone anyway. Cant remember why but for some reason he go all worked up just before my exams and threatend to hit me and at about the same time my bicycle breaks were tampered with so I spent my final’s staying at my new BF’s place with the woman who was to become my mother in law (boy did she make me nervous, still does).

Many of the details of the wierdness and scaryness of these have been lost in the years since then , especially since after housemates from hell came neighbours from hell.

Also we let a friend stay for a couple of weeks as we foundout he was sleeping in his car. A couple of weeks turned into 3 months in the tiny 2 up 3 down cottage we were in at the time. I eventually asked him to leave as he wasn’t even looking for somewhere else. Well why would he, living rent and bill free.


I feel the need to ask...

IS IT ME ?????

Sorry about the length but I missed out loads to keep it this short.
(frankiemouse, Mon 9 Apr 2007, 2:32, Reply)

Dirty crack
After living in halls for my first year at uni I needed somewhere to live next year so when I was asked if I wanted to live with a mate off my course, 2 of his mates from back home and some other random guy called Joe, heck I said yes!
It started out quite okay, sort of. Everyone else seemed capable of washing their plates and pans after eating food, but not Joe, ohhhh no he was special. So special in fact that he figured that he didn't need to wash anything up so his crap would stay on the side in the kitchen and gather mould and start smelling something rotten until I got sick of the mess and cleaned it up.
After a while everyone got a bit lazy taking out the bin so I made a bin rota which brought happiness because order was restored and there where no arguments, apart from Joe. Because he is such an idle bastard he didn't seem capable of taking the bin out on his day and when he did he just took the full bin bag out of the bin and left it in the back yard, or in the boiler room* for them to get nice and hot and smell fucking rotten!

And this one is a corker, one day we ran out of toilet paper but this didn't bother him, he told us how it felt like a clean shite so he just whipped up his kegs and went about his day.

From time to time also he would play shite music really loud using my CD system in the living room at stupid times day and night which meant we got a letter from the council saying there was a complaint about the noise and our house was being watched (I have 2 three foot speakers and a CD stack system that would not fit in my shitty small room so I put it in there for everyone to enjoy) so that makes him a twat as well. We took the fuse out of the plug in the end, that stunned him for a bit.

He had some friends over to play poker one night and moved the dinner table into the centre of the living room only to not move it back for about a 5 days after and also leaving about 20 empty beer cans all over the floor with various other pieces of rubbish which I cleaned up in the end managing to fill an entire frigging bin bag with, oh yeah he also left the table covered in his poker crap as well so no one could use it, arse crack.

For some unknown reason as well all the bills for the house are in his name, which means we have to rely on him to open the bills (not actually all that hard) and perhaps inform us that there is a bill that needs to be paid. But no, he doesn't quite seem to have the ability to open them so I have now taken to opening his post after we have had about 3 letters telling us that we are going to have the bailiffs round if we don't pay up within the next 4 days and shizzle like that.

Basically this guy just does not have any life skills, and furthermore I can't for the life of me figure out how he has a girlfriend, it cant be for his ability to use buy toilet paper and not be such an inept fucktard that's for sure, I hear she is ugly though so alls well that ends well!

*I should explain that the boiler room is actually about 5 steps that go between the kitchen door and the back door to the outside of the house.
(Rt Hon Quargflax, Mon 9 Apr 2007, 1:12, Reply)

Minger
Big Annie was the worst person I have shared four walls with. She was a nasty, drunken, bully and had a nasty habit of bringing violent men back to the flat and playing Nothing Compares 2 U by Sinead O'Conner at top volume on her scratchy stereo. I remember her permanently stinking of cheap pizza and gassy beer. She also sported a permed mullet and nylon football shirts. Not a pretty sight.
(Pantyliner, Mon 9 Apr 2007, 0:23, Reply)

Not Quite A Housemate, But...
My ex-boyfriend is quite possibly the biggest slob I've ever met. Now, I'm not exactly tidy, but this is taking the pish.

I used to walk into his room and end up picking my way through a minefield of loose change (The time I spent peeling coins off my bare feet is unbelievable), dirty clothes, week-old plates (some with food still attached and growing mould), game cases and other peoples stuff.

And the mess didn't stop in his room. Oh no. It extended to his car. McDonalds packaging, more of other peoples stuff, more clothes (in a car! Why??)...you name it, it was probably there.

On the few occasions that he did stay at mine (when the parents were away, they hated him), he managed in one night to make my house look messier that my younger brother and I have in 10 years.
Among his list of crimes: leaving his dirty plates lying around the living room floor (I wouldn't let him eat in my room), snot rags on my sofa, a bottle of Jack Daniels in my bed (how he managed that one, I'll never know), as well as various other bits of shite scattered around the house....and then he complained if I mentioned it!

And this guy wanted me to live with him....*cue hysterical laughter*

Apologies for length? There should have been. (All together now...."Oooooh....baetch")
(TuftyBee should have been working on, Sun 8 Apr 2007, 20:52, Reply)

When I was a student I flat shared with 2 other girls in a 2 bedroom flat.

Making the rent was tough so we got a 3rd girl in too. As you can imagine it was cramped but we were affording things a bit easier now so we were well over the moon.

Until the bill money started going missing, thurns out the new girl was stealing our money and refused to pay it back.

So I cleaned the toilet with her toothbrush, probaly the only time it got cleaned actually. Broke a few of her cds, poured nail varnish remover in all her shoes and a few other nasty, spitful childish things, I know it's bad but...she started it.
( diffy maybs, Sun 8 Apr 2007, 20:52, Reply)

Just to prove FE students are stupid......
My mate back in 1985 lived in a shitty flat share with 4 other FE students. Within 3 weeks of moving in to the place he kept getting stomach cramps and kept having to take days off college. And he wasn't the only one - all of his co-habitees also were getting ill.

They blamed everything - the crap fridge for not being cold enough, the water system for having lead in it, the smell from the next door restaurant which was particularly pungent but no attempt at fixing things sorted the problem. My mate thought about moving out.

One day coming home from a media studies tutorial (a.k.a. watching Ferris Bueller's Day Off) he walked into the kitchen to find the youngest of his flatmates washing up. Standing in a pinny at the sink just as his mom did at home cleaning with a brush - only he'd got a little mixed up: the large toilet brush from the bogs he always used when it was his turn for the chore wasn't really suited to getting into the small cups, although (as he pointed out to the astonished flatmate) it WAS doing a great job on the cutlery and plates!

(Anyone outhere got any copies of Permanent Food magazine nos 1 - 7 for sale? - I'd be happier with that than "I like this" clicks although the latter'll do as a fallback action ta!)
(beaverwastemanagement a real company. I want to work for them!, Sun 8 Apr 2007, 20:31, Reply)

Rosie the seal
ahhh, been waiting for this one!

In our second year at uni we had to move out into houses and me and my mates needed one more person. So somehow my friend knew a girl called Rosie who would be willing to live with us.

She was a fat slob, leaving dirty period stained knickers on the floor of the bathroom for weeks on end, smoking in nothing but her dressing gown 4 sizes too small for her size 24 frame, leaving fat from a fry-up in a pan for 5 weeks then using it to make breakfast and setting the kitchen on fire.

The best though, was she came home after being so pissed, that when she needed the loo, she couldnt be arse to shift her lump of lard arse to the bog downstairs. So she decided to grab a pint glass and piss in that. god knows how she managed it. then she left the house for 2 weeks. we smelt something in her room, went to discover the cloudy wee, dinner plates with mould, old pants, clothes. we didnt dare move the glass.

The night she came back we heard the sound of the wee being tipped out the window to the garden. the next day the glass turned up on the sink. not cleaned or wased. Scummer!
( squiddylyd Once you pop you can't stop!, Sun 8 Apr 2007, 20:13, Reply)

Freak
I moved into this house and i thought it was nice and for a month it was ok, then it started teh freak housemate refused to let me put up a bird feeder over winter as they was afraid of catching bird flu, i fixed the lock in the bathroom which they then 'unfixed' as they was afraid of having an accident in the bathroom and being unable to be reached, they cried to me all the time talking about her parents and how much they hated them yet demanded money of them and still got £50 a month pocket money - they are nearly 30, when one room became free i tried to put everyone off by shaking my head when they were not looking one sucker did move in i told them give it a month and you'll see and surely enough one month later she was being driven up the walls. weird one also believed they had everything wrong with themself, had a cupboard full of every sort of pill, teh werid one even knew the doctors recepitionists name's off by heart by teh sound of their voice on the phone, yay my first post any good?
(TheFallGuy doesn't it?!, Sun 8 Apr 2007, 20:07, Reply)

my mate from school
now a very high up management bloke in one of France's biggest banks.
Totally fucking anal retentive with compulsive must arrange everything in my life to be neatly squared off disorder.
I decided to make our answerphone message have a backing of the Odd Couple theme tune.
Most friends said it was a perfect choice.
(Maybe he thought I was the flatmate from hell, cos i such a sleazy never clean up anything except the kitchen kinda guy).
(Man in Japan, Sun 8 Apr 2007, 19:47, Reply)

oh jesus christ
now i remember joelle. same houseshare, different shit.

she was as thick as a brick. unbelievably so. to the extent that we were playing trivial pursuit one exciting night and she couldn't ask the questions because she "couldn't read those little cards". so, couldn't read, then.

her question was: name the generic type of plant that grows to over 6' tall and is covered with bark.

and she didn't know the word "tree".

her next question was: name britain's most prolific serial killer who practised as a doctor in the north of england and murdered many hundreds of elderly patients.

"don't know," said joelle.

now, i could (just about) understand forgetting the name. but when we said "shipman"... she'd NEVER HEARD OF HIM!

how she remembered to breathe is beyond me.
( rachelswipe with a fork, Sun 8 Apr 2007, 19:25, Reply)

i've been pretty lucky really
mostly only ever lived with friends.

however, when i was in a houseshare in west london, we let a girl named jess move in with us. jess was normal and quite pretty (although if she was half as pretty as she thought she was, she'd have been very pretty indeed) but very very spoiled. she had this boyfriend whom she called jamesy and she would cry if, for instance, a vw golf appeared on tv - "oh, look, it's a jamesy car." and she would ring him and talk over the top of "friends", asking what he was having for "din-dins". i once heard her ask him if he wanted "to go wee-wee" before they got in the car.

anyway, a couple of months after she moved in, jamesy went on a round the world tour/fled from her, not sure which. i was expecting a call from my bloke so i took the phone (mine) up to my bedroom and jumped in the shower before he rang. about 2 mins later, jess barged in, straight into my bathroom, where i was covered in hot water and soap, and started screaming hysterically about me being a selfish fucking bitch.

turned out jamesy waymesy woo woo poo head was calling from america and she had missed his call because i had "stolen" the phone. i've never been yelled at by another woman whilst naked in the shower before or since.

and no, i didn't hold out the baby oil and suggest that she join me...

(although i wish i had, then i could have rammed the damn bottle up her STUPID ARSE!!!)
( rachelswipe with a fork, Sun 8 Apr 2007, 19:10, Reply)

My boyfriend's housemate
is a girl who is very much "in type". They sleep in the same room. That's hell enough for me.

Should I be worried?
(EasilyRecognisable I’m back baby, Sun 8 Apr 2007, 19:05, Reply)

and at first I thought, all my flatmates have been nice...
PAH! How time, dope and alcohol dull the memory....
skip to the last one if you have a short attention span ;)

Having been a poor lad from a poor family, I couldn't afford to go to uni when I was young. This resulted in me living at home till I was 21. I didn't think this was too old to be living at home until my parents sat me down and asked me when I was moving out (two weeks after I'd gone my bedroom was turned into a gym).
I moved in with an ex-girlfriend and her gay (male) friend. I'm a pretty patient and accomodating chap, so I didn't really mind the music being played at 4am or the fact that her 'friend' woud sit in the front room at night, with all the lights on (and the curtains open) sniffing poppers. I didn't even mind when another guy moved in without any noticed or when I came home one morning to find some stranger in my bed.
What did get my goat is when they decided that as there were no clean cups, plates or cutlery, they need a washing up rota. They waited until I came back from a week away to point out that now I was back, it was my turn to clean everything up, pointing at the new rota on the wall - despite everything being clean when I'd left.

Next chap (and several years later) is a mate of mine and had been for many years. Due to some 'dodgy' dealings (that I didn't want to know about) someone (a total council scumbag) ended up owing him a lot of money. Rather than pay him or come to some arrangement where he could pay over time, he told the police that my mate had held a gun to his face. Cue, my mate being dragged out of his house at 3am by the armed response unit and forced to lie in the road, butt naked, whilst they search his house.
Even though they found nothing, they still took him back to the police station, kicked seven shades of shit out of him and then put him up on a gun charge.
In court the next morning, I managed to get the magistrate to release him into my custody. Sadly for me, he made one of the conditions that this guy couldn't return to his home borough until the court case was settled. So, the court ordered him to live with me.
now, I love my mate. Honest. But live with him? The guy smoked grass all day (can't blame him for that), drank tennants from the moment he woke up till the moment he went to sleep and chained smoked in my house all day, despite the fact it's a non-smoking house as my GF has asthma. Somehow, when cooking he managed to get tomato sauce all up the walls and on the ceiling (and never cleaned it up). One day I even found him in my bedroom, going through my change stash to find enough money for a can of tenants. Another time I realised after trying to talk to him that he was on smack (he did that nodding thing and kept drifting off mid-sentance).
One time, my ladies sister was staying so I let her have my bed. I slept on the floor in his room and during the night I heard him puke up into his mouth and then swallow it again. This happened several times...
It took six months for the court case to run it's course. We now don't speak anymore and he's a crack addict.

Last one - and the worst....
Aforementioned girlfriends sister. Poor wee lass didnt have much money to her name, but had got a good job. She also needed somewhere to live. At the same time my partner and I are looking to buy somewhere. We thought a really nice charitable thing would be to buy the house together and then she could move out after a couple of years and take a little bit of profit with her, getting her self onto the property ladder.
Anyway, somehow we managed to do the above and for three months we all lived in bliss and harmony. Then she 'turned'.
For some reason, she thought we were trying to 'get' her. About what, I dont know.
Examples of her oddness
we were not allowed to make any noise before she woke up. This included things like, boiling a kettle, getting things out of the fridge, opening and shutting cupboards, having the radio on radio 4 (even though it was only tuned to radio 4 on her insistance). all this despite the fact that she never got up till about 2pm. If you did make a noise she would run down stairs and scream at you.
She refused to say hello or good morning, ever.
Flew into a rage if you spoke to her before she'd woken up properly(this would be after 2pm and anytime upto 4pm).
Would fly into a rage for no apparent reason (once she asked me to pass her the tv guide, I picked it up and threw it to her. Apparently I'd thrown it 'at her' and this caused a screaming argument).
Would have screaming arguments with you, then when you tried to talk to her later to resolve it, would forget what had actually happened, make something up and then scream at you about that.
One time she locked me in a cupboard when I was trying to help her fix something (she used to interpret my normal behaviour as pisstaking and sarcasm - it wasn't).
Screamed at my girlfriend and made her cry (on her birthday) as she'd spoken to her "before she'd woken up properly".
She found a smelly mouldy armchair in the road and decided she wanted it in the front room. I pointed out that it stank and was mouldy, but took my meaning to be "you are nothing, you own nothing and you will die lonely". Not sure how that happened, but she screamed at me and cried three seperate times (and this was after I'd relented and was helping her carry it into the house).
Several times I'd buy minor items like gardening gloves, masking tape etc. She would steal these and hide them in her room. If she accidently left them out and I used them, would scream at me for going through her room and stealing her things.
Would constantly complained that we were filthy people and never cleaned up despite (you guessed it) the fact that she never cleaned up and her room was littered with dirty, stained knickers.
Could only cook three things - pasta with tomato sauce, mushroom risotto, and quiche (all of which I hate). As we had a cooking rota, it meant I ate these dishes about 300 times each before she moved out.
She insisted that we repaint the backroom 'off-white', but not any off white. We weren't allowed to just use any as she was an artist (who'd been kicked out of uni after one year). So, three months for her to make up her mind about which off-white to use. Three months!
She refused to speak to us at all for the last two years we lived with us because I was a bastard and my girlfriend (her loving older sister) was a bitch.
We eventually bought her out of the house, but it took six months (three to put the idea into her head and another three to agree on the price).
Now (four years later) she makes like nothing happened. I once made a reference to the 'rowing' that had gone on. She looked at me puzzled and said "But we only had one row"
Yeah bitch, it just lasted for three years.
she did have great norks though and one morning, when she thought I'd already left for work, I found out that she liked to walk around naked when she thought she was alone.

Sorry about the size of that. On the plus side, I feel alot better now.
(EvilMeister, Sun 8 Apr 2007, 18:41, Reply)

noisy neighbours
Chewbacca’s fur was moist with passion. He growled as he saw Princess Leia approaching; apple of his eye, mandarin of his heart. She ran towards him, chains rattling, her more than ample bosom bouncing with each step she took. Chewy took her roughly into his arms, and ran his paws through her long, dark, and now tangled hair.
“Oh Chewy, Luke was hitting on me again, but it turns out he’s my brother. How fucked up is that?!”
Chewbacca howled an affirmative at the bikini clad beauty before him.
“Oh Chewy, I knew you’d understand. You’re the only one who truly understands me. You can be my walking carpet any day, if you know what I mean.” She added suggestively.
Chewbacca stalked up to her with that animal magnetism she always found so alluring, snapping her bikini off with a deft snip of his claws. Leia’s opulent orbs of love bounced unapologetically forth, and she cooed like a blushing pigeon. Slowly and sensually, Chewbacca unbuckled his ammo belt, and let it gently coil onto the floor, revealing his hard furry abs to Leia’s delight.
Unsheathing his formidable wookie bow-caster, Chewy let out a bray a passion as he swept up the barely clad princess in his huge animal arms. With a final snip of his experienced wookie-paw, he rendered the succulent princess bare as freshly plucked poultry ready for a roasting. With his wookie bow-caster now fully charged, he took aim for her quivering crumpet. Slowly he slid his beastly truffle into her pre-heated love oven, hot for the baking. Dominating her, Chewy’s paws explored very peak and trough of her undulating form. Tugging furiously at her chains, Chewy grunted and thrust into her liquid delight; his wookie bow-caster making the Princess squirm like a freshly caught haddock with pleasure. He furiously docked into her harbour repeatedly, readying the ships to set sail. Together, Leia’s polished triangle and Chewy’s gargantuan organ made beautiful music long into the night.

...noisy buggers, always kept me and C3PO up
(Sir_Psycho, Sun 8 Apr 2007, 17:40, Reply)

Well
I'm living with 9 roommates at the moment, so 10 in all, in a slightly cramped Dorm in Upper Manhattan, but they're all pretty cool. But so far its be been my worst experience (and my only), so I suppose it counts
( Arsonade is saving up for a new box of hummus, Sun 8 Apr 2007, 17:20, Reply)

Worst Housemate Ever (I imagine)
She never took her turn to go out for the shopping, always left it to others to put the garbage out, avoided taking the dog out for a walk all the time, she pretty much locked herself away and kept herself to herself. Aye, I'm glad I never had Anne Frank as a housemate.
(Fatima Whitbread's hardon drugs and the causes of drugs, Sun 8 Apr 2007, 17:12, Reply)

Sausage thief
My great grandad was an engineer who worked in Vienna back in the 1920s. Money was tight and he had to take a flatmate to meet the rent. Turned out to be a funny little guy who shouted a lot about history and politics. He was a part-time decorator who fancied himself as a painter. I think you see where this is going...

The first clue was when grandad was looking in the fridge for a sausage he'd bought earlier that morning.

Granddad: Have you seen that sausage I bought?
Lodger: Nein. The Jews must have taken it.
Granddad: It was a pork sausage. Have you eaten it?
Lodger: Nein. This country has suffered too long under the yoke of the pacifists and aristocracy!
Granddad: What about my sausage?
Lodger: It was the communists.
Granddad: And where's the ketchup? You're going to have to start pulling your weight.
Lodger: Ja, pull this, you British dog [raises finger] etc.

A few years later, granddad saw the same decorator in a cine film of the Nuremburg rallies, ranting and screaming and gesticulating like a madman. And he thought again about that sausage. Food for thought.
(frankspencer, Sun 8 Apr 2007, 16:54, Reply)

Where to start...
How about the time he stabbed himself in the neck with a chopstick when I asked him to clean up his stuff? Which was followed by attempting to jump out the second floor window (as you do).

Or perhaps when he 'overdosed' on tranqs (or much more likely, flushed them down the loo and pretended to be royally fcuked) then came damn close to strangling me when I called for an ambulance... The bastard didn't have ambulance cover, so that was a nice $800 bill for him.

Or maybe the time he beat the living hell out of me for asking if I should save him some dinner.

Ahh yes. Not the best choice for a fiance. No wonder he's been committed to a psych-ward.



Bye-bye b3ta V-plates.
(is0lati0n, Sun 8 Apr 2007, 16:11, Reply)

My flatmate the terrorist...
Not so very long ago, I was a 20-something postgraduate desperately looking for somewhere to live in a strange new city. I ended up moving into a house with five 19 year-old students, none of whom I’d met before. They were a cosmopolitan lot - four lovely (and relatively wealthy) young expat ladies hailing from Dubai, Thailand, Italy and Egypt, and a working class lad from Blackburn. They had a few of the requisite quirks that sharing a flat with strangers always entails, but they were for the most part easy-going and clean living. Which was a good thing, as there were six people crammed into a house meant for four, the landlord ingeniously having managed to convert various closets into bedrooms.

After about six weeks, the Egyptian girl (we’ll call her Sara, for ‘twas her name) mentions that her boyfriend will be coming over from Rome to stay for a while. Sadir. Age 26. Half Italian, half Iraqi. “Oh right”, I say. “Coming for the week is he?”

“No, actually, he’ll be staying about a month,” Sara replies.

Not wanting to rock the boat with a bunch of people I was still getting to know, I acted all cool, although the prospect of a month making small talk with another stranger didn’t really thrill me. Fortunately however, Sadir was a nice guy and just as into football as me and the Blackburn lad so all was well. Well, almost.

Being from the Middle East, he and Sara had some views about the Western world. Capitalist pigs. Corrupt. Decadent. That sort of thing (didn’t stop Sara taking advantage of the finest education Britain had to offer and Sadir stuffing his gob with Burger King though). I had some of those Iraqi playing cards - you know, the ones given to soldiers with pictures of Saddam and his cronies on them. He went through them, sharing anecdotes about Iraq’s most wanted, most of whom were “friends of the family.” Hmmm.

Anyway, Sadir’s holiday lengthened. He arrived in October. By Christmas he was still in the flat, using our electricity, cramping our space and turning the heating up to the sweltering Mediterranean climate he was used to. And I’m not a petty man, but coming home in the evening after a hard days work to find him just out of bed did get a little galling sometimes.

“Don’t worry,” said Sara. “He’ll get a job after Christmas, and he’ll be gone by Easter.”

He didn’t, and he wasn’t.

He did get a job, speaking Italian at a Call Centre, but lasted two days. We asked for rent or at least something towards the bills, but Sara and Sadir, hospitable Arabs that they were, couldn’t quite grasp the notion of a guest paying for his keep. Even if that ‘guest’ had been there four months and now got more mail than I did. Eventually, in April, he decided to go. We bid him a fond but firm farewell as he got in the taxi to the airport.

Two hours later he was back. They wouldn’t let him on the flight due to ‘irregularities’ with his identity documents, apparently.

The next day I was woken by banging at our door. Wandering downstairs in my dressing gown, I found my flatmates sitting on the sofa looking extremely worried and two burly plain clothes detectives escorting Sadir to the police station for questioning. In one of my rare displays of cool, I gave a nonchalant “morning” and proceeded to make breakfast, as if dawn raids from the fuzz seizing suspicious Iraqis were an everyday occurrence for me.

He wasn’t a terrorist, of course. Too lazy. And not even a particularly devout Muslim. During his entire stay he did little except sit around in his pyjamas and play Pro-Evolution Soccer 4, which I’m sure Osama bin Laden would have frowned upon.

Anyway, he finally went home in May, seven months after his arrival, having barely left the house and not paid a penny for his upkeep. He speaks three languages fluently and has an influential family, so he may well be working for the UN by now. Or possibly he’s bumming around in the flat of some other unfortunate students.

He didn’t apologise for length (of stay), so nor will I.
(Richard of York gained battles in vain, Sun 8 Apr 2007, 15:59, Reply)

two-day housemate
My sharehouse was devolving - I was happy to see the back of thicky, fat-arsed Jazz but Tash and I had lived together happily together for over a year, and would remain friends unto this day.

So I went on the rounds of searching/interviewing for a place. But what luck, the third place I went to was a lovely apartment - close to the city, with a pool in the complex and sharing with a girl of similar age to myself.

Saturday morning I rock over with a carload of stuff. The new girl seems overly eager to help me with my moving. Making sure that I put everything away neatly in my room. We make small talk and she tells me what terrible trouble she's had finding someone permanent. Everyone stays for only a couple of months for some reason. 'Crap' I say. 'That must suck'. Oh well, methinks, I am a nice person and am definitely looking for somewhere to live for a year or more.

Later that day, I bring over my next load. Kitchen and lounge-room stuff. As I begin to disperse some of my possessions in the lounge she starts having issues with it. 'That's not staying there is it?' Ummmm, well, yes it is. I ask if she's made space for me in the kitchen. Yes she has. One shelf. For my food, cutlery, crockery, everything. I tell her this won't be enough and she looks angry. Finally she says she'll give me one more shelf. When I say this still won't be enough she gets quite huffy. (There are about 14 cupboards in the kitchen btw).

I decide to leave it and go about unpacking the rest. But she follows me around. Everywhere. She obviously doesn't trust me or something. I'm beginning to get a bit stressed out by her behaviour and wonder who I've moved in with. But I stifle those worries as it's a great pad.

Later that evening, she also casually mentions that she's a christian, so will be at church tomorrow. She goes in the morning and the afternoon.

Ooer, I think. I would have liked it if she'd told me before I moved in, I think. i don't have an issue with religious folk per se, but perhaps some of my activities don't always gel with the christian lifestyle... I begin to worry.

At 3am I wake up, worrying about this strange new house I've moved into. Insomnia isn't unusual for me, so I go downstairs for some crappy telly and hot milk. I've barely turned the telly on when she wakes up (I don't know how - I was quieter than a mouse's fart) and joins me - unable to trust me in the lounge on my own.

She commandeers the television, and insists on watching one of those weird-arse US evangelists... then she starts telling me how when he toured Australia she went to see him in concert and how great it was. She starts to tell me about his wonderful teachings...

I'm starting to freak out excessively at this point.

The next day was a repeat of the first. Her following me everywhere around the house. Getting angry if I place anything anywhere except in my room. And starts getting narky if I do 'outrageous' things like cooking without asking her.

I speak to my boyfriend. I'm not happy. I don't know what to do. I feel that i may have made a terrible mistake. He calms me down and urges me to give it a bit more time - maybe she'll settle down in a week or so?

But later that afternoon, after more weirdness and her starting to try to convert me, I am in my room, crying with tiredness and fear. I decide I need to talk to someone with Yoda-like wisdom. My mum. Since it's a long distance call, I ask where the phone is.

No, she says. I want you to get your own account. Oh, I say, like the pin-number thingy with separate phone accounts? No, says she again - I want you to pay the phone company to put in an extra line as I don't want you using my phone.

The final straw. I responded hysterically 'But that costs hundreds of dollars - and I just want to call my mum!' and burst into tears.

To be fair, my tears melt her previously ice-cold christian heart and she 'lets' me use the telephone to call my mum.

My mum is very wise. When I tell her the story of all the goings-on she says, sagely: Get out, now!!!!

To cut a ridiculously long story a bit shorter - after losing my bond and some rent money, and being abused by the christian, the christian's boyfriend, and the 'heavy' she brings round the next day, I end up moving my stuff to a friends house on a monday evening. The quickest f**kin move I've ever done.

That was very stressful. It then took me about two months to find another place. I now ask any potential housemates about ANY religious affiliation before moving in. I would recommend you, dear reader, do the same.

That is all. Very long, isn't it?
(blu-k, Sun 8 Apr 2007, 14:45, Reply)

I knew a guy
not only was he not very similar to me, but also he was well-rounded, deep, and a very solid character.

He was the worst flat mate I ever had.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sun 8 Apr 2007, 14:08, Reply)

I know it's not QOTW, but I thought I'd share a nice story
Having spent my first couple of years at uni living with some of the girliest girls around (can't remember quite why... oh yes, finding affordable housing in the area was a cut-throat and desperate business), for my third year I decided I'd had enough, and moved in with a brickie and a plumber.

It took me a little while to get used to the fact that they would invite all their mates from the building site round to drink a crate of Special Brew and watch porn films - at 10 in the morning, but it wasn't actually a problem or anything. They were actually really tidy too, and always washed up.

The day I moved in, I went to the pub, and found they had looked through all my stuff. Nothing was taken and nothing was moved. So how did I know? Because they told me how astounded they were by how many books I had (about a dozen), and had I really read them all? The brickie proudly told me "I read a book once. It was about that Ghengis Khan, and his horse Mongol".

I once had a massive go at them for going out and leaving all the windows on the ground floor open. Their response? "This isn't London, you know. It's a small town, and we know all the local burglars. They're our mates and they wouldn't nick from us." And they didn't.

With my studenty female friends, I sometimes used to walk past the building site where most of them worked. They would shout out stuff like:
"Awright darlin ... get your tits out luv ...." etc. Then:
"Hang on a minute, that's Dan's flatmate. Oops, sorry, Dan's flatmate - didn't mean you, was talking to the other birds. How's it going?"
Then, when I'd gone past, back to shouting about tits.

And they often offered me a can of their Special Brew. I almost got to like it.
(Turangalila, Sun 8 Apr 2007, 14:00, Reply)

he kept a loaded shotgun in the wardrobe next to his bed
need i continue?

alright then, he also had a spastic girlfriend with a mental age of about 9.

spastics, loaded shotguns... nuff said.
(Nobody Likes Mortal Wombat, Sun 8 Apr 2007, 13:56, Reply)

Second year Uni blues
In my second year at uni in Reading, I descided to move into a house near the city centre. Two mins from pubs bars and shops, sorted. Didn't move into a house with anyone from halls (cos basicaly the majority of them were twunts!) and moved into a spare room in a student house. People seemed friendly enough, was told I would be replacing a mate of theirs called Andy. Fair enough, nice big room.
Came back after the summer to find that another chap called Nigel (good lad, but a dirty fucker) had been staying, and had never cleaned the house....ever! Before I go into detail I just want to say I had a right giggle in this house all things considered.....
1) The house was beyond filthy, never cleaned, dust and crap everywher, dirty plates etc the usual Student mess.
2) There was no lock on the back door. When I asked the landlord why, he said they never needed it. Told him that if anyone broke in I didn't give a fuck cos my room was insured to the hilt, but he really would be fucked, cos no insurance company would pay out if the house wasn't secure! Next day 8am I awake to the sound of a lock being installed. Success!
3) Old TVs and shopping trolleys frequented our back yard, which was a literal jungle by summer (we couldn't find the lawnmower, the grass was that tall!)
4) Nigel after getting pissed on his 20th, proceeded to come home smashed and vomit in the bath and shit in the sink AT THE SAME TIME! To be fair, he did clean it up after.
5) One of the girls decided she didn't like me/loved me at the same time (I heard her drunkenly telling the others) despite the fact she had a boyfriend who came to visit (who she 'loved' of course) who was a sorted bloke (plus I really was not interested in any chubby lovin'!)
6) The lad in the next room to me, who grew his own weed and would leave his alarm clock going off all weekend in his room, that pissed us off so much that I was given permission to kick his door down to turn it off. He wasn't pleased when he came back.
7) Two of the lads regularly stealing armchairs/any furniture from outside shops/rubbish tips and bringing them home as 'smoking chairs'.
8) Finally, one of the guys let a mate of his stay over Easter. This guy, who we took to calling 'Rat Man Dan' left shit everywhere, including a manky tramp coat in the sitting room. Getting pissed one night I decided to burn it ceremonialy outside. Apparently when he returned for the coat Nigel handed him a rather chared sleeve......

Apologies for length.......but you love it you slag!
(Polish bstard, Sun 8 Apr 2007, 13:35, Reply)

Scum
This is my first experience sharing a house. I have to say that i was a bit worried about having to move in with 6 individuals I did not know but a couple of them I really get on well, so I guess it's not so bad. The other 4 are a bit weird though. Especially the one we nicknamed scum. Why scum? Because she's dirty and incredibly stupid.
Amongst the stupid/scary/disgusting (delete as appropriate) things she's done were:
- Unfold a tent in the lounge while 2 of us were trying to watch telly, then take it back to the bathroom and wash it in the bathtub.
- Fall asleep in her car in front of the house and then, when someone woke her up said "i thought i was still on the motorway".
- Leave her tuna and pasta salad in the kitchen overnight, then put it in a food container in the morning and take it to work.
- Put her alarm clock on and bugger off for the week end. That way, we did not only got woken up at 5am, but at 5pm too. Then deny she did it and hinted that someone might have gone in her room (that was locked).
(coxval, Sun 8 Apr 2007, 13:32, Reply)

Housemate from beneath.
i once shared a flat with Harold bishop, he wasn't that bad actually.

always gave me biscuits for some reason...
( Gerbilinafishtank Gerbil in a fish tank...TURTLE POWER!, Sun 8 Apr 2007, 13:25, Reply)