:)

(Mon 31st Mar 2008, 10:47, More)

» Karma

Flatmate from hell
OK, so I'll get straight into it...

In 2002 I went to uni in Edinburgh. Initially I was quite anxious as it was quite a way from where I'm from (NW England) and I was the only one I knew going there, but it is a beautiful city and student life is great. Turns out anyway, that Edinburgh uni doesn't really present much of a cross section of Scotish society, being largely made up as it is of rich English people from Surrey eager to try out the snowy wastelands on Daddy's tab.

Cue the end of 2nd year. My group of friends and I are choosing who lives with who as we move from halls to flats. My course is pretty intensive so 9 times out of 10 I would have to turn down any invitation for a night out/spliff/party. Hence, my name was not too high up on people's wishlist when it came to populating their soon-to-be uberparty-pad. So I got lumbered with 3 other guys. Now, two of these guys are fine, one (Joe - a rather wealthy Surrey boy) was unknown to me and, as you'll see, turned out to be a bit of a shit.

We got lucky with our flat. Super-close to the new Parliament and with 3 floors for 4 people, the rent was undervalued hugely because it was brand new and we were the first tenants. Everything was gleaming - it was worth £500k apparently. Not bad for £270pm each in Edinburgh. So we got everything signed and went to our prospective homes for summer to work etc. Except for J, who decided to hang around for summer and enjoy the festival. The last I see of him is when I leave for home having just put all my coursework, architecture models, computer stuff etc in my room and locking the bedroom door behind me.

About a month later, I'm heading up to Edinburgh with 2 friends. We decided to celebrate my birthday by having a week in the festival. Why not? I've already paid for the rent. On the train up I get a phone call from one of the other flatmates telling me he's moving out.

'What?!' says I, a tad surprised and concerned.
'It's the flat, man. It's fucked up. Joe's fucked it all up'. Says he.

It doesn't sound good. So I tell him I'll check it out for myself and not to tell Joe that I'm coming.

We arrive in Waverly, walk the short distance to the flat and get ready for what awaits us. The plan was set: go quietly straight up to my room on the top floor, leave our stuff then have a look around. Up we go. As I reach the top of the stairs I notice something different about my bedroom door. There seems to be only half of it left on the hinges, the rest splintered across the floor. Shit.

We go in to my room. There's three tussled but empty sleeping bags. I step on a used condom. I survey the room. My flatmate's description was accurate: it's fucked. The blinds have been torn and snapped off the wall. The en-suite (nice flat as I say) - brand new until now - was a tip. Piss everywhere. Smears of what I can only assume to be shit along the shower walls. The shower head is smashed and hanging like a New York payphone. I open my wardrobe. Coursework: crumpled into a ball. Architecture models: completely decimated. Computer: side has come off and one of my jumpers has be shoved inside it. On inspection the insides have been smashed. Time to see Joe.

We go down to the kitchen via the living room. The living room is off the kitchen with double doors, so it's pretty much one huge space. Walking in, we see about 10 sleeping bags and a mattress (we had no furniture at this stage). In the corner is a comatosed Joe half on the matress, half on the floor. His head being on the floor. We step over him and enter the kitchen.

What followed was the most breathtaking site I've ever seen (including goatse). Scattered amongst spilled beans and cans of beer were: 1 large pile of coke - the scale of which can only be described as 'Scarface', the remenants of about 50 lines, a bag of ketamine, 5 large bags of pills, 2 (!!) ounce-bags of weed. Many discarded pieces of foil with burn marks (I presume crack, heroin). The fridge is ajar. It's full - to the point it won't close - of mushrooms. And there, in the middle of all this, is one used syringe.

I walk over to Joe to wake him up. His eyes are deep pink. His expression on seeing me standing over him was a lot like the 2 girls 1 cup mammal thing on the front page. Imagine your expression if your dad walked in on you wanking over a picture of your mum. That's the kind of shock/shame/fear in his eyes right now. He stares at me. I stare at him. Finally he pipes up with, 'What the fuck are you doing in my flat?'.

Come again?

'Get out, man. This is my flat now. You can fuck off. Go find yourself another place to stay.'

This went on for a while. Me pointing out the obvious, him still tripping off his tits telling me to get out of his newly-conquered territory. I'll cut this bit down as this is getting long... Basically, I looked for another flat. Eventually, I realise I've got a good one as it is and shouldn't have to be spending my birthday flat hunting because he decided to fuck up our current flat. I decided I'd better get the landlords involved.

We met the next day outside the flat (we were staying at my mate's in the meantime). On the way we walked down Princes St. We saw something rather bizarre: some guy leaning forward off a traffic light post in the middle of the road (think Titanic, king of the world scene) staring at oncoming traffic as if wanting a fight. He then lets go and runs straight at the oncoming cars. Cue much beeping, running over bonnets, and narrowly avoiding a bus. All while half naked and screaming 'Wahoooooo!'. Wierd. But it is festival time.
Anyway, I explain everything to them. They were shocked but, to their credit understanding. They appreciated the honesty and the chance to save their expensive new property. We say thanks and stand back as they enter the flat...

Now, you know that scene from Ratatouille where the woman's ceiling falls down and about 10,000 rats come flooding out of the house. Yeah, like that but with Spanish and French people. Some half naked, some fully. All fucked up and running as if Robocop himself had just walked in. I've never seen so many bouncing dredlocks in all my life. After about 5 mins it's pretty quiet except for a shouting/whimpering exchange. Then, just as things look like they're coming to a close someone sprints past us heading for the flat, bumping us on the way:

'Wooohooooooooo!' The half naked guy pelts straight in ready to join the party. About 3 seconds later he comes running out again, minus the woohoo.

So yeah, the karma is, he got kicked out, he lost many friends and fucked up his degree. The one stand out moment, though was when my friends and I were sitting in my bedroom window a few minutes later. I was enjoying the fact that I no longer had to face flat hunting at the worst time of the year or be homeless, while my mates were happy to be watching the spectacle. As Joe slinked away, pashmina-clad girlfriend in toe, he looked back and we all gave him a wave. The cunt.
(Wed 27th Feb 2008, 7:14, More)

» Housemates

Flatmate from hell
I previously posted this as an answer to the Karma qotw, but this seems like an appropriate time for it to come back round as it were.

OK, so I'll get straight into it...

In 2002 I went to uni in Edinburgh. Initially I was quite anxious as it was quite a way from where I'm from (NW England) and I was the only one I knew going there, but it is a beautiful city and student life is great. Turns out anyway, that Edinburgh uni doesn't really present much of a cross section of Scotish society, being largely made up as it is of rich English people from Surrey eager to try out the snowy wastelands on Daddy's tab.

Cue the end of 1st year. My group of friends and I are choosing who lives with who as we move from halls to flats. My course is pretty intensive so 9 times out of 10 I would have to turn down any invitation for a night out/spliff/party. Hence, my name was not too high up on people's wishlist when it came to populating their soon-to-be uberparty-pad. So I got lumbered with 3 other guys. Now, two of these guys are fine, one (Joe - a rather wealthy Surrey boy) was unknown to me and, as you'll see, turned out to be a bit of a shit.

We got lucky with our flat. Super-close to the new Parliament and with 3 floors for 4 people, the rent was undervalued hugely because it was brand new and we were the first tenants. Everything was gleaming - it was worth £500k apparently. Not bad for £270pm each in Edinburgh. So we got everything signed and went to our prospective homes for summer to work etc. Except for J, who decided to hang around for summer and enjoy the festival. The last I see of him is when I leave for home having just put all my coursework, architecture models, computer stuff etc in my room and locking the bedroom door behind me.

About a month later, I'm heading up to Edinburgh with 2 friends. We decided to celebrate my birthday by having a week in the festival. Why not? I've already paid for the rent. On the train up I get a phone call from one of the other flatmates telling me he's moving out.

'What?!' says I, a tad surprised and concerned.
'It's the flat, man. It's fucked up. Joe's fucked it all up'. Says he.

It doesn't sound good. So I tell him I'll check it out for myself and not to tell Joe that I'm coming.

We arrive in Waverly, walk the short distance to the flat and get ready for what awaits us. The plan was set: go quietly straight up to my room on the top floor, leave our stuff then have a look around. Up we go. As I reach the top of the stairs I notice something different about my bedroom door. There seems to be only half of it left on the hinges, the rest splintered across the floor. Shit.

We go in to my room. There's three tussled but empty sleeping bags. I step on a used condom. I survey the room. My flatmate's description was accurate: it's fucked. The blinds have been torn and snapped off the wall. The en-suite (nice flat as I say) - brand new until now - was a tip. Piss everywhere. Smears of what I can only assume to be shit along the shower walls. The shower head is smashed and hanging like a New York payphone. I open my wardrobe. Coursework: crumpled into a ball. Architecture models: completely decimated. Computer: side has come off and one of my jumpers has be shoved inside it. On inspection the insides have been smashed. Time to see Joe.

We go down to the kitchen via the living room. The living room is off the kitchen with double doors, so it's pretty much one huge space. Walking in, we see about 10 sleeping bags and a mattress (we had no furniture at this stage). In the corner is a comatosed Joe half on the matress, half on the floor. His head being on the floor. We step over him and enter the kitchen.

What followed was the most breathtaking site I've ever seen (including goatse). Scattered amongst spilled beans and cans of beer were: 1 large pile of coke - the scale of which can only be described as 'Scarface', the remenants of about 50 lines, a bag of ketamine, 5 large bags of pills, 2 ounce-bags of weed, many discarded pieces of foil with burn marks (I presume crack/heroin). The fridge is ajar. It's full - to the point it won't close - of mushrooms. And there, in the middle of all this, is one used syringe.

I walk over to Joe to wake him up. His eyes are deep pink. His expression on seeing me standing over him was a lot like the 2 girls 1 cup monkey thing that was once on the front page. Imagine your expression if your dad walked in on you wanking over a picture of your mum. That's the kind of shock/shame/fear in his eyes right now. He stares at me. I stare at him. Finally he pipes up with, 'What the fuck are you doing in my flat?'.

Come again?

'Get out, man. This is my flat now. You can fuck off. Go find yourself another place to stay.'

This went on for a while. Me pointing out the obvious, him still tripping off his tits telling me to get out of his newly-conquered territory. I'll cut this bit down as this is getting long... Basically, I looked for another flat. Eventually, I realise I've got a good one as it is and shouldn't have to be spending my birthday flat hunting because he decided to fuck up our current flat. I decided I'd better get the landlords involved.

We met the next day outside the flat (we were staying at my mate's in the meantime). On the way we walked down Princes St. We saw something rather bizarre: some guy leaning forward off a traffic light post in the middle of the road (think Titanic, king of the world scene) staring at oncoming traffic as if wanting a fight. He then lets go and runs straight at the oncoming cars. Cue much beeping, running over bonnets, and narrowly avoiding a bus. All while half naked and screaming 'Wahoooooo!'. Wierd. But it is festival time.
Anyway, I explain everything to them. They were shocked but, to their credit understanding. They appreciated the honesty and the chance to save their expensive new property. We say thanks and stand back as they enter the flat...

Now, you know that scene from Ratatouille where the woman's ceiling falls down and about 10,000 rats come flooding out of the house. Yeah, like that but with Spanish and French people. Some half naked, some fully. All fucked up and running as if Robocop himself had just walked in. I've never seen so many bouncing dredlocks in all my life. After about 5 mins it's pretty quiet except for a shouting/whimpering exchange. Then, just as things look like they're coming to a close someone sprints past us heading for the flat, bumping us on the way:

'Wooohooooooooo!' The half naked guy pelts straight in ready to join the party. About 3 seconds later he comes running out again, minus the woohoo.

So yeah...he got kicked out, he lost many friends and fucked up his degree. The one stand out moment, though was when my friends and I were sitting in my bedroom window a few minutes later. I was enjoying the fact that I no longer had to face flat hunting at the worst time of the year or be homeless, while my mates were happy to be watching the spectacle. As Joe slinked away, pashmina-clad girlfriend in toe, he looked back and we all gave him a wave. The cunt.
(Fri 27th Feb 2009, 10:15, More)

» Bullies

Poor Ben
I should start by saying that I heard this story from the person involved. It may well be total shite and a story that every school has. If that's the case, though, I've no idea why he didn't admit so and save himself years of bullying.

Anyway, there was a kid at my school called Ben. He was super clever and also a really nice guy. The kind of guy who was honest to a fault. He was into radiohead before anyone else and got stick for years before everyone else realised he was right. Music tastes, however, were the least of his worries. He had very strick parents. The kind that ensure academic success through a distint imbalance of the carrot/stick ratio. I dare say he was terrified of them. We sure were. Two super-strict Egyptian surgeons who prided themselves on discipline. And this made sure the story that sentenced him to 2 years of abuse all the more special.

As the story goes one day 16 year old Ben was sitting at his desk in his bedroom doing a little bit of internet surfing. As is the way with a combination of a teenage boy, privacy, and an open internet connection, he soon found himself looking at porn.

Now, Ben had recently heard that having a wank while sitting at your desk is like having a shit with your clothes on - it gets the job done, but there are more enjoyable ways. So he decided to walk on the wild side and have a standing wank. Hence, a couple of minutes of flesh-staring later, reaching the vinegar strokes and legs spasming, he was in the wanking version of what sportsmen would call 'the zone'.

Then in walks his mum.

Now, under usual circumstances - as we all know - the reflex kicks. Something is thrown over your crotch, monitor turned off and tissues hidden within about 0.1s. This is, apparently, not so easy with your trousers round your ankles, monitor out of reach and legs going through spasms. So, horror-struck at hearing the door open what does Ben do? He freezes. He turns to face the door and freezes. But it was too late. The vinegar strokes had arrived. So, stopping dead and clutching at his penis, his mum enters into the room to be welcomed by the sight of - you guessed it - Ben jizzing right at her.

Apparently he hit her dress near the ankle. She didn't stop. She simply walked in, got spunked on, and walked straight out again like an incestuous dial-a-bukkake. All within the space of about a second.

Needless to say, they never spoke about it. And, riddled with such a mental cluster-fuck, Ben confided in his best friend. Who told his best friend. Who told.....etc His life was misery from then on. Even the teachers knew - one once even joking about "seeing Monica Lewinski, er, I mean you mum" at parents evening. I mean, what's Ben going to do? Tell his dad?

The poor lad is getting married soon. Almost none of his friends from school are invited. Presumably to avoid his fiance learning that her new husband once spunked on his mum.
(Tue 19th May 2009, 5:45, More)

» Kids

Frazzle Frazzle Frazzle
When I was about 13, I used to spend every weekend with my best friend. Thing is, we lived quite far apart so one week he'd stay over at mine, the next I'd stay at his. One week his little cousin was staying over. He must have been about 8. These days, he'd probably be diagnosed with ADD but in those days he was a 'hyperactive little shit'.

After some hours, we got a bit impatient with the little bundle of despair so decided to annoy him as much as we could. It turned out this wasn't hard. We would simply whisper to each other in the childish manner of 'pppssswwwssswsss' that you do. He soon figured this out though, so we stepped up to Stage Two of our highly sophisticated plan: whisper 'Frazzle Frazzle Frazzle' (yes, we did eat many packs over the weekend).

Cue one child going absolutely mental at the merest mention of 'Frazzle'. What did it mean? Why did the bigger boys know about it and I didn't? etc etc

The highlight came when we (me, my frend, his mum, the cousin and the aunt) were all having a rather civilised lunch in the back garden when the aunt offered the child some crisps:

'Do you want some Frazzles?' she asked
'I HATE YOU!' came the reply as the kid hastily slid off his shoe, threw it square into her face, and ran away crying.

We managed to stifle our laughter while the kid was whisked away, leaving us to play Duke Nukem for the rest of the day.
(Sun 20th Apr 2008, 3:01, More)

» Abusing freebies

I got a freebee once
Pulled its stupid little wings off. Fucked it right up.
(Thu 8th Nov 2007, 18:46, More)