Flatmates Stories
Discussion
I've shared various staff houses around the world and here's a tale of one.
We had a big apartment in 1991 in Luanda. 6 bedrooms, shared bathrooms, common lounge & kitchen etc.
We came back from one trip offshore to find that the company had moved in an engineer who had transferred from Egypt.
Bit of a prototype ISIS member, he had proceeded to chuck out all our food from the fridge & freezer as it was not Halal and also binned our somewhat large beer stash.
This was before he'd met us. No asking if we could get 2 fridges or a discussion on alcohol. Just gone ahead as it was all Haram.
The proselyting little t
t loved nothing better than giving regular sermons to us "Kuffars" and we were all going to hell.
Now, I've worked with plenty of people with different religious beliefs but this bloke was off the deep end.
Imagine him as an Andrem Choudry or Omar Bakri type.
Ok then. From then on, we were pretty much barbequing sausages in the lounge and pissing it up in front of him as he went slowly more mental.
We also discovered that (according to him) public nudity was sinful so most of this barbequing and boozing went on with us naked (a real sausage fest
) and we would delight in getting out of the shower, going over to him, bending over and spreading the cheeks to ask him if you had a bit of a spot or a piece of fluff stuck up there from your towel.
One of the lads discovered that he had a mobile prayer mat with a built in compass (really) and took great delight in magnetizing it so it read differently every day.
He didn't last long after that and requested another transfer.
I still wonder if he was the bad flatmate or we were?
We had a big apartment in 1991 in Luanda. 6 bedrooms, shared bathrooms, common lounge & kitchen etc.
We came back from one trip offshore to find that the company had moved in an engineer who had transferred from Egypt.
Bit of a prototype ISIS member, he had proceeded to chuck out all our food from the fridge & freezer as it was not Halal and also binned our somewhat large beer stash.
This was before he'd met us. No asking if we could get 2 fridges or a discussion on alcohol. Just gone ahead as it was all Haram.
The proselyting little t
t loved nothing better than giving regular sermons to us "Kuffars" and we were all going to hell.Now, I've worked with plenty of people with different religious beliefs but this bloke was off the deep end.
Imagine him as an Andrem Choudry or Omar Bakri type.
Ok then. From then on, we were pretty much barbequing sausages in the lounge and pissing it up in front of him as he went slowly more mental.
We also discovered that (according to him) public nudity was sinful so most of this barbequing and boozing went on with us naked (a real sausage fest
) and we would delight in getting out of the shower, going over to him, bending over and spreading the cheeks to ask him if you had a bit of a spot or a piece of fluff stuck up there from your towel.One of the lads discovered that he had a mobile prayer mat with a built in compass (really) and took great delight in magnetizing it so it read differently every day.
He didn't last long after that and requested another transfer.
I still wonder if he was the bad flatmate or we were?
Back in '83 I got a late place at London Uni and had to find my own accomodation. Knowing nothing about anything I found a basement room in Stoke Newington, went to meet the landlord who seemd a bit strange but I needed a place so took it. bathroom and kitchen were shared.
Arrived on the Sunday with my stuff, family didn't look too happy leaving me there but off they went. I unpacked and wandered up to the kitchen to make some toast where I met the other two occupants. On the ground floor (above me) was a bloke in his forties who had been in the Rhodesian war and on the wrong side of some of the "depravities" there - he was violently racist (in Stoke Newington!)had something like shell shock and later on I heard the howls and shouts above my head as he relived it. The other was a raving feminist who stank and whose opening line was to ask if I'd considered having a sex change.
The kitchen was filthy, stank of rotting fish as someone had cooked it during the week and the bins hadn't been emptied, and whilst I was making some toast a rat ran along the top of the sink and down behind the bin.
I was pretty unhappy, and to cap it all, I was woken at midnight by my door rattling as the landlord tried to get in (I'd douible locked the Yale from the inside). Turned out he had a liking for boys.......
I started Uni the next day, slept in the halls common room for two nights until I found another flat I could share with a guys on my course..........
Arrived on the Sunday with my stuff, family didn't look too happy leaving me there but off they went. I unpacked and wandered up to the kitchen to make some toast where I met the other two occupants. On the ground floor (above me) was a bloke in his forties who had been in the Rhodesian war and on the wrong side of some of the "depravities" there - he was violently racist (in Stoke Newington!)had something like shell shock and later on I heard the howls and shouts above my head as he relived it. The other was a raving feminist who stank and whose opening line was to ask if I'd considered having a sex change.
The kitchen was filthy, stank of rotting fish as someone had cooked it during the week and the bins hadn't been emptied, and whilst I was making some toast a rat ran along the top of the sink and down behind the bin.
I was pretty unhappy, and to cap it all, I was woken at midnight by my door rattling as the landlord tried to get in (I'd douible locked the Yale from the inside). Turned out he had a liking for boys.......
I started Uni the next day, slept in the halls common room for two nights until I found another flat I could share with a guys on my course..........
Some of these stories bring back memories.
The first share house I lived in was in Carlton, Melbourne, before the suburb started to get trendy. If anyone has seen "Monkey Grip", that's the scene.
It was quite cheap, which may have something to do with the previous occupants running a massage parlour /brothel until the owner got shot and killed - no lie. There was still one of the massage couches there when we moved in. The only down side of this history was the seedy looking guys knocking on the door late of a friday / saturday night for the first few months, thinking it was still open for business.
Downstairs lived a lovely guy, although a little vague and prone to acid flashbacks.
I have good memories of climbing the wall to swim in the Carlton baths at 2 am on a sweltering summer's night, then playing pool till dawn.
The first share house I lived in was in Carlton, Melbourne, before the suburb started to get trendy. If anyone has seen "Monkey Grip", that's the scene.
It was quite cheap, which may have something to do with the previous occupants running a massage parlour /brothel until the owner got shot and killed - no lie. There was still one of the massage couches there when we moved in. The only down side of this history was the seedy looking guys knocking on the door late of a friday / saturday night for the first few months, thinking it was still open for business.
Downstairs lived a lovely guy, although a little vague and prone to acid flashbacks.
I have good memories of climbing the wall to swim in the Carlton baths at 2 am on a sweltering summer's night, then playing pool till dawn.
Blimey, some of these put my housemate experiences in to perspective!
I lived in shared houses for about 10 years, first at uni and then in my first job. Obviously been very lucky as only had one problem one (which probably means I was the problem housemate).
3 of us all working for the same company sharing a place and one joined the RAF so we got in a new bloke, Derek, who seemed ok to begin with. Not long after he moved in he was signed off work with stress for a while and it went down hill form there. He basically turned nocturnal and would spend all night playing computer games and sleep most of the day, and getting more depressed about work. This meant he'd have the heating on all hours so our gas bill went through the roof, although at least he didn't make too much noise.
I saw him one day up and dressed and asked if he'd been back in to work, but no, he'd been to see the doctor to get signed off for another week...and then been and had a flying lesson!
He was weird and unhappy but harmless and eventually decided to pack up the job and move to Scotland to work for/with his father who ran a small hotel. Hopefully it did him the world of good but on the morning he was due to leave his mother was due round mid morning to help pack the van they'd hired but he was still up playing computer games and hadn't even started packing yet.
I lived in shared houses for about 10 years, first at uni and then in my first job. Obviously been very lucky as only had one problem one (which probably means I was the problem housemate).
3 of us all working for the same company sharing a place and one joined the RAF so we got in a new bloke, Derek, who seemed ok to begin with. Not long after he moved in he was signed off work with stress for a while and it went down hill form there. He basically turned nocturnal and would spend all night playing computer games and sleep most of the day, and getting more depressed about work. This meant he'd have the heating on all hours so our gas bill went through the roof, although at least he didn't make too much noise.
I saw him one day up and dressed and asked if he'd been back in to work, but no, he'd been to see the doctor to get signed off for another week...and then been and had a flying lesson!
He was weird and unhappy but harmless and eventually decided to pack up the job and move to Scotland to work for/with his father who ran a small hotel. Hopefully it did him the world of good but on the morning he was due to leave his mother was due round mid morning to help pack the van they'd hired but he was still up playing computer games and hadn't even started packing yet.
greggy50 said:
Will summarise my flat at uni with a photograph...
I was put into a room which was bigger than the others and had a sofa. As a result it was taken over every day for parties (I've no idea what was wrong with the kitchen/lounge).It was a hell of a lot worse than that, constantly
and I barely ever slept. That year was just noise, overflowing ashtrays and carpets covered in beer and trodden-in crisps.soad said:
Playhouse?! 
Flatmate was minted and walked into Toys R Us one day battered and spent £300 on a selection of st. Shortly after the door was snapped off and after an unsuccessful attempt to melt it back on with a lighter it was smashed to pieces. The sofa apparently gave us "a look" so therefore whilst drunk it was again decided a good idea to smash it to pieces...
Other highlights included at one point a pop up castle, a huge sea monkey aquarium which literally lasted 1 hour before being smashed over the floor and a 4 foot paddling pool.
Best year of my life however as thankfully none of the flat seemed to mind the fact the living room was a s
t hole as amazingly all the bedrooms were ensuite and spotless!Edited by greggy50 on Tuesday 21st October 16:17
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