So someone on Twitter was asking for flat-mate horror stories and I tweeted, ‘I had one who used to shoot at people out the window –does that count? And the one who moved his entire family into the living room.’
And he said, 'Go on...' And then I kept remembering others who were worse. Far worse. And went hurtling back down memory lane again. And figured I needed a list.
My top ten worst flat-mates.
So, in no particular order, here you have it.
1. The One Who Shot Things Out The Window. tbf, it was only an air rifle and he mainly shot rats and rabbits (to eat). Unless he forgot his meds or someone pissed him off. Also in possession of three ferrets.
2. The One Who Took Over the Living Room. Lovely guy, really lovely, but one day I came back to find his sister living in the living room. ‘Just for a bit,’ he said. She was swiftly joined by his girlfriend, his parents and their cat. It got mighty crowded in there. And a trifle smelly.
3. The One Who Tried To Kill Me While I Lay Sleeping in My Bed. Lovely girl. Just a trifle unhinged. One night she stormed into my bedroom and laid about my head with a Paul Masson carafe of wine (empty). Scary as hell. The choice of wine, that is.
|Yes, like this...but with wine in it.|
4. The One Who Gobbed. Nasty little toe-rag. Used to stand at the top of the stair and fire gobs at the bike parked in the hallway. Also cheated on the phone bill. Young Conservative (an oxymoron, surely?). Worst of all, wore really bad jeans.
5. The One Who Saw Ghosts. Put the fear of gods into everyone with her mediumistic powers. I mean, how do you concentrate on having a crap when you’ve been told the toilet is haunted by a six foot tall male ghost? It’s…offputting.
|This is a bona fide toilet ghost.|
6. The One Who Was Too Right-On. Once again, dead nice just… worthy. House became full of enormous art installations with titles like ‘The Bleeding Womb’. My high heels were sacrificed on a pyre; I had to hide my make-up bag and was forced to keep my tampons under lock and key (real women don’t hide their blood away). Became self-conscious because apparently I hadn’t communed with my vagina enough and preferred sex with (whisper it) men…
7. The One Who Thought He Could Do Voodoo. Boy, did I love that guy. And went along with it all for a fair while – the not sleeping for three nights at a time malarkeys, the vampire hunts, the astral orienteering. But he got into the wrong sort of spirits and having someone screaming, ‘I’m cursing you! You’re so goddamn cursed for curse’s sake!’ at four in the morning gets…tiresome.
8. The One Who Was Too Political. I mean, I was a good socialist back then. I even canvassed in a half-hearted sort of way (though it was pretty boring preaching to the converted). But when you couldn’t even squeeze through the door of your own flat because of yet another meeting of the Bermondsey Liberation Front, it got too much. I retaliated by hauling home bunches of random South Africans to sleep on the floor and it all got a bit…uncomfortable.
9. The One Who Hid. On paper the ideal flat-mate – clean, silent, inconspicuous, her portion of the rent and bills left on the table without fail each week. But it started doing my head in. Was she in or out? How did she manage to get up the stairs without making one single step creak? After a while I couldn’t even remember what she looked like. I left her a note: ‘Is this working out?’ She left one back: ‘Probably not’. And left.
10. The One Who Was Boring. Actually, come to think of it, he really was the very worst of all. J
‘You know what?’ said Kelly on Twitter. ‘You really ought to live alone.’
‘Couldn’t agree more, ‘ I said.
Anyhow, over to you - worse flat/room/house shares ever?