I want to say 'awesome' but fear being owned, pwn'd, :sonned: or whatever else happens exclusively on forum msge boards.
But f*ck it, I'm sayin' it. Drove home buzzing.
Awesome night. Engaging, erudite and incredibly generous chats. Hope I didn't hijack the flow too much with my pet project which you all seem waaaay more qualified to be pursuing than me. Deep seams to mine which I'll endeavour to pursue in a way that creates further evenings, drinks, good times and maybe reconnects old friends.
I'll see you here more often, IRL too and if any of you ever stray east along the A11 Norwich-bound you'll be properly fed, watered and re- homed.
Thanks for welcoming me and thanks for the record gifts. Some way,some how, y'all gonna get payback for that!
Right, everyone unscathed?
Got in at 1, at work for 7.30, sausage+egg sammich & latte combo killed off any lurking hangover vibes by 9, it's all good and Clerkenwell pub crawl tonight.
Finally made it home! Had avoided foisting my own drinking habits on you guys as I figured I would be no fun for the friend I was meeting afterwards, turns out his night had been a bit of a weird one and we went out for more drinks and the best chicken kebab I've had in years. Proper drinking should be done next time (on a weekend!).
Sh*t, was a great game aswell!
Always great to see you again Stev* and Al* - you missed a trick with those burgers, very tasty. Secret Wenger love revealed from Junior! Everybody loves an idealist.
Nice to meet you Ian, as I said, if you want to find out more about bad housemates there are some blog-like entries in this thread but I might search out some choice morsels for you... probably using such keywords as "crack", "smack", "ketamin psychosis", "abhorrent perversity", and "kept me awake all night".
Dom, if you're reading, sign-up and share some knowledge! Was great to meet you and would be good to learn more about the Colchester acid-jazz/rare groove scene - do a mix for your intro thread entitled Music To Be Hip To or something ;-)
Duder, your devotion to the tequila is admirable.
Can't fathom where you put it all.
DocMcCoy"Go and laugh in your own country!" 5,913 Posts
Gentlemen, it was truly a pleasure to meet you all. A first-rate way of rounding off my most enjoyable return visit to London yet - it must have been, if seeing LFC lose to Yanited in The Pub With Almost No Beer wasn't enough to put a crimp on the evening. The generous donations of chud were a delightful and unexpected treat - ta muchly, Skel & Duder.
I did feel a bit Damien Duff heute morgen, though.
Whoa, in my hungover state forgot to say it was a pleasure saying hi Doc, and you're more than welcome to the chud. Definitely hook up again next time your in Blighty!
Dom, if you're reading, sign-up and share some knowledge! Was great to meet you and would be good to learn more about the Colchester acid-jazz/rare groove scene - do a mix for your intro thread entitled Music To Be Hip To or something ;-)
Ha! I thought I was quite valiant to admit to my previous misuse of his image for personal gain. I probably shouldn't have told him it five times while laughing excitedly though.
On top of the declaration of Wenger appreciation I think I also expressed a wish to see Liverpool rewarded for taking a punt on Rogers. Must have been a very benevolent evening. Was great fun and knew I'd missed out on the burger when it turned up with a steak knife driven through its heart.
My only request is that next time we do it within semi sight of either a railway or through road for black cabs to accommodate those of us lacking the Ray Mears gene. Still trying to work out the route I chose that took over an hour to get back to Stratford....
In the PMG, Chicago Blues, New Orleans Jazz, MerseyBeat and SF Hippy have now been joined by the Colchester Acid Jazz n Rare Groove scene as pivotal musical junctions that have led us to where we are today.
Thank you all.
And, it turns out, a key influence on the beer-sodden, chip-strewn youthful escapades of the boy Junior.
Also a source of much potential research info for the boy Pattrick.
RW YOLO right there
DocMcCoy"Go and laugh in your own country!" 5,913 Posts
skel said:
Hipster/girl/pint/portable-R
Someone please re-up the fateful photo.
And, it turns out, a key influence on the beer-sodden, chip-strewn youthful escapades of the boy Junior.
Also a source of much potential research info for the boy Pattrick.
Gutted I may have missed Corduroy being repped to the nth degree for the purpose for which it was created - Identifying the most hardcore of jazzers.
Or suede.
Apropos of nothing, I bought meself a pleather jacket in Ibiza. It was too good a deal. Problem was, I had to wear it going home to keep the baggage down. Sweated like a rapist. And I had food-poisoning from the night before. How it was rocked onstage for Lizzy and dem BITD I will never know.
Nice to meet you Ian, as I said, if you want to find out more about bad housemates there are some blog-like entries in this thread but I might search out some choice morsels for you...
No need, recent events I didn't get to tell you all about should do the trick;
So my landlord (an old school friend) is an unrepentant alcoholic (he recently brought a tramp back to our house and shagged her - that's another story altogether). His partner in crime, another old school friend, let's call him B.J. ahem, ahem, anti-search-text Cox (because that's his name), and a girl known as Crazy Emma had a bit of an escapade recently which came at a bad time for my landlord who was feeling a bit fragile after a heavy couple of days.
The musician keyboardist guy who lives here had a couple of friends round for a jam. One of them is a sound engineer by trade, and apparently worked on albums with the Rolling Stones & Elton John, but when the wife vanished he was left with the kids and had to take time out. He still knows how to take coke like a rock star though, and proceeded to cut up lines as long as your arm for my landlord who wouldn't turn his nose up at methylated spirits (which reminds me that at one stage when B.J.'s pharmaceutical trading career was in full swing - burying drugs in fields, Jnr - our house had three functioning coke mirrors). The next day my landlord got very very drunk and did an all-nighter on cider. The day after that, he went to Wetherspoons for a liquid breakfast and promptly shat himself. He went to the toilets, disrobed and discovered that the damage was limited to his boxers, so he went commando and wondered what to do with his kegs. He decided to flush them down the toilet. This of course led to the toilet blocking, and overflowing, so he got down on his knees and stuck his arm down the toilet, forcing his shite-smeared kegs round the u-bend to avoid the possibility of flooding the men's room and bringing unwanted attention to himself. He then received a text from Crazy Emma asking if he wanted to meet in town because she was taking her new lodger out for a meal. With the prospect of a free drink on his mind, my landlord set off for town. Somehow he lost his way, arrived late and had missed the food, but they were still drinking wine, so he happily joined them for a glass. And shat himself again. Crazy Emma took him back to her flat where he cleaned himself and his trousers. An unspecified amount of alcohol was consumed. BJ then entered the fray (BJ has since confirmed that, through personal experience, really heavy coke sessions can lead to this level of incontinence). Crazy Emma & BJ decided to go to Tescos to buy some more booze (my landlord cannot go to this branch of Tescos as he was recently barred*).
Crazy Emma & BJ returned from Tescos with more booze, and something else. The specifics are a little hazy as to how or why, I only know that they also had with them a lady of Pakistani ethnicity who announced that she was ready to pay for sex. She demanded to be licked-out, and without hesitation BJ got down to business. My landlord started to kiss her, and at some point in the proceedings acknowledged that some kind of introduction might be suitable and asked her name. It's a name that my landlord recognised instantly - this lady is the older sister of a guy, let's call him Rahmoo, who used to pick on him at school. When my landlord asked her to confirm if she is indeed Rahmoo's sister, her desire to be spit-roasted on the carpet by two strangers cooled somewhat. At this point Crazy Emma handed my landlord and BJ ??20 each. BJ asked what the money was for, and Crazy Emma explained that it was from Rahmoo's sister for services rendered. My landlord, perhaps sobered by his brush with the past, instantly returned his money to the lady, and told BJ to do the same. Crazy Emma refused to, saying it was her money now, even though she was the only person not to have, ahem, earned it. The lady went batshit crazy, screamed that she is a Muslim woman, if her family find out about this she and they will all be dead, and attacked Crazy Emma for her refusal to return the money. Choice words were exchanged while my landlord tried to separate the two. House turned into a war zone, so he escaped the carnage and returned to our house where he found me asleep on the sofa with a stray kitten snoozing on my belly - Who's cat is that? I dunno. Give me a drink, you'll never believe what just happened to me.
What happened after my landlord ran away? The Muslim lady left the flat, and left a note in BJ's pocket that said she had something of theirs which made no sense until Crazy Emma's new lodger came back to the flat and discovered her laptop was missing. Crazy Emma called the phone number on the note and told the Muslim lady to return the laptop not to her flat, but to my landlord's house - MY HOUSE - and said she would be refunded. Crazy Emma then went out that night, got drunk on the money she had taken from the Muslim lady, tripped and fell down some stairs to a nightclub and fractured her wrist. Karma! My landlord made some frantic and angry phone calls and had Crazy Emma call the Muslim lady back and arrange for the laptop to be returned to Crazy Emma's flat. Crazy Emma's lodger went ballistic, demanded the police be involved, but Crazy Emma is on remand for statutory rape (she had lesbo sex with an underage girl), panicked and came to our house. I had to help her check into a hotel because my landlord felt unsafe in our house and ran off to another town to see his casual sex partner (the slightly, no definitely, insane recovering anorexic that my landlord once had sex with when visiting her in a mental institution). When Crazy Emma went back to her flat, the night I was in London with you guys, the Muslim lady threw a brick through Crazy Emma's window, and has been arrested. We assume that she may well be explaining to the police that she paid for sex, that the one person she paid for sex in fact didn't have sex with her, and she wanted a refund, that if her family find out why the brick was thrown, there could be an honour killing. Or several.
So I write this stuff down in case you guys read about a cricket-bat massacre in a quiet suburb of Oxford and I go MIA.
* How my landlord got barred from Tescos; BJ & my landlord, both very drunk, went to the supermarket to get some booze. BJ handed my landlord a bottle of wine and he decided to steal it (down the front of his trousers). Was spotted by security and apprehended on the door. Security promptly phoned the police and took my landlord to a secure room. Once in this room, my landlord began to spill his guts, he gave them a pathetic sob-story that makes Chunk's confession sound like a weather report. He says this lasted a full 40 mins.
By the time the police arrive, the store manager doesn't have the heart to press charges, but the police officers are ready to arrest him, and begin to read him his rights. So he furiously went through the entire sob-story routine again, all 40 mins worth of material about his hard-luck life, how stupid he has been, how he'll never do this again... and by the end of it, the police un-cuff him and let him go! My landlord strangely takes so much pride in this feat of escapology that he still fails to acknowledge it was his own imbecility that got him into that situation in the first place.
DocMcCoy"Go and laugh in your own country!" 5,913 Posts
Screamed with laughter at this;
(my landlord cannot go to this branch of Tescos as he was recently barred*).
The backstory was like finding a tenner after losing a fiver.
Nothing makes sense anymore. Nothing. But the tequila is good clean fun. Nobody gets hurt, right?
The stray kitten is back.
I've just made a sick beat on ableton.
#keepingmyheaddown
edit: more info for Ian.
Housemates past:
The reformed junkie. Excellent guy, gutted he left actually, but while he was here he would have the occasional *lapse*. Probably best thing for him was moving out. Could do rubik's cube in a couple of minutes, works in computers doing maths stuff.
The gay ket addict from Zimbabwe (just remembered his nickname - Cold Feet Pete). Unemployed.
Night-shift guy. Moaned about noise during the day, pissed on the toilet seat and never cleaned up. Dude was 40-ish. Pain in the butt.
The sniff-dealer. Has two kids by his long-term gf, but regularly cheats on her, for some reason she took him back. Unemployed.
The Porn Dwarf. Alcoholic, good with I.T., great bloke when he's sober, but prone to 4 day benders blaring terrible 80s music all hours. Fuck I wish youtube had never been invented some times. Unemployed.
The gambler. When he was a teenager, he spent six months or something sulking and not moving - his legs look like he had polio. Unemployed, but he gambles like it's his profession - goes down to Bristol 3 times a week to play high stakes poker. Had a row with the landlord though and moved out after barely a week.
The paranoid schitzophrenic. Only manages to stay in the house for a couple of days before his inability to do basic things (like feeding himself) mean that he goes back to his mum's (he's 35, unemployed). Absences of two weeks are not unusual, so in this respect he's a great housemate!
Current mob:
The keyboardist IT wiz. Unemployed, brilliant musician, functioning alcoholic, has recently met a girl, seems to be straightening out.
The DJ/Promoter. Officially mentally ill and has lapses into paranoid schizophrenia (not the same guy as mentioned above, and yes, I know a third paranoid schitzophrenic who is regularly sectioned and can play Burt Jansch's Anji
better than any man alive or dead), but really the sanest of the lot. Super nice guy, but not really house-trained if you know what I mean.
The landlord. Unemployed alcoholic, 6, 7, 8 day benders are not beyond him. His behavior when he's drunk is one of the biggest problems in the house. I've known him since school, so on nights when he's lying on the sofa in a drunken stupor screaming his head off, I will fill up a bucket of water, walk downstairs, and calmly pour bucket of water over him, and then return to bed in an attempt to sleep.
One night, a bunch of people start turning up at the house. People I know, but they're mainly friends of the Sniff Dealer and the Landlord. Reform Junkie was still living in the house too. At this point the house still didn't have any curtains in the front room (it was over a year later when me & Porn Dwarf broke down and put some up ourselves after we gave up on 'reminding' the landlord to do it), but I knew something dodgy was going down when the Landlord got a bed sheet and pegged it up over the window - this was usually a sign that Sniff Dealer was going to start weighing and measuring in the front room. He also sold weed. He had 3 suitcases full of weed up in the loft, and when Sniff Dealer showed me, I told him that it was more weed than I'd ever seen in one place. It was just like a film looking at these vacuum packed bundles. On top of the sudden need for privacy, the guys who turned up all looked a bit sheepish. This was a work night, and I figured they were just going to have a mammoth coke session, so I went upstairs thinking if I turned in early I might sleep through the worst of their excesses. It wasn't to be. Throughout the night there was mad shouting, banging, loud music, and people pounding up and down the uncarpeted, raw floorboard stair case.
In the morning, pissed-off at a shit night's sleep, I go downstairs. Somebody's fuck-off christmas tree is in our hallway... just like it had been dragged in off the street, and left lying there totally blocking access to the front room and the kitchen. I climb over that and an armchair is on it's side in front of the kitchen. I walk into the front room, and everybody must have left in the wee hours. Furniture is turned over, empty cider bottles and beer cans everywhere. I see a weird lump on the floor, and pick it up. I realise it's a mouthful of spinach - MY fresh babyleaf spinach - that somebody has chewed up and spat out. There are more of these spitballs and my satsumas have been thrown around. And there are converted coke-can crack pipes all around the room. I later find out that Reform Junkie had scored some crack, told Sniff Dealer & the Landlord, they invited a bunch of friends, and they all had a naughty crack session, a food fight, and somebody decided it would be mental to go and steal a christmas tree from a front garden.
So one night I get woken up by the sound of female voices and the braying, full-throated donkey-like laughter of the Landlord coming from downstairs. Initially pissed-off, I think to myself "Fuck me, they've pulled", and decide to try and get back to sleep. But there's some shouting, banging, and after a while silence. In the morning, after angrily interrogating all 3 of my housemates, I pieced together what really happened.
That night Porn Dwarf (already plastered, second day of continuous drinking) decided to wander round the corner to the all-night garage to buy some cider (living with these fuckers has turned me into a fan of Torie minimum pricing policy on booze I swear). On his way back, two ladies of the night struck up a convo with him, perhaps thinking he might be a very quick and easy job, or more likely they simply recognised how drunk he was and followed him back to the house sensing an opportunity. Porn Dwarf entered the house on his own. They must have stood outside for a bit discussing how they might be able to get money out of him, but at any rate, the Landlord heard female voices outside the front door and let them in. He was also pissed, with at least 24 hours of drinking under his belt.
Once inside, according to Paranoid Schizophrenic, they convinced the Landlord to part with ??20 so they could score him some weed to get them *in the mood*, and took his mobile so they could call a dealer. They took the Porn Dwarf's keys, and tried to take his laptop with them. They also made off with one of the bottles of cider that the Porn Dwarf had just bought from the garage.
None of them wanted to admit responsibility for letting the women in or for being conned & taken advantage of, and I was just annoyed at having my night's sleep disturbed AGAIN, but had to laugh at the cretins as they slowly admitted how they'd been ripped-off.
To make things worse, the Porn Dwarf's bike was nicked a couple of days later from outside the house, most likely using the keys that had been stolen. The only saving grace is that most of the house looks like such a shit-hole they probably figured they had taken everything of any value. Zero chance of the Landlord changing the locks though.
(my landlord cannot go to this branch of Tescos as he was recently barred*).
Do you want to know why he's barred from a branch of Co-Op?
I'm alive, aren't I?
Not such a lengthy one this... he went to the local Co-Op to buy some cider. The guy at the counter told him that he was too drunk, and that they wouldn't sell him any alcohol. My landlord says "You wanna know what I think about that?"
and undoes his trousers and flops his cock out onto the counter.The guy runs around the side of the counter chasing my landlord out of the shop screaming "Get out of my shop! You're fucking barred!"
You want to know why he's barred from a bar with music club round the back?
Bottling somebody.
Who did he bottle?
He and his band had just done a gig, and the guitarist & drummer were berating my landlord for being too pissed (he played bass), my landlord couldn't deal with the agro, so he took the full bottle of beer in his hand... and smashed it over his own head! The manager witnessed this and promptly barred him.
I have an old friend who's a schizo alcoholic who went to college in Oxford.. I wonder if you ever met him. He has similar stories.
It all kinda begs the question of why do you still live there? Or maybe how! Putting up with that shit and holding down a job and not getting dragged down to their level, must be hard fucking work.
I've often pondered why Duder remains but then it hit me after watching Fight Club.
Duder is the Landlord?
This had me fucking laughing!
It's the tequila - it all makes sense now.
Ex left me with a sizable debt in my name, I wanted to pay it off a quickly as poss. ??300 a month over 3 years before rent or bills or food. Couldn't afford to do it anywhere else. It's now paid, and I'm planning on doing a TEFL and moving to Barcelona. Or maybe I should take a sabbatical (sign-on) and write a book?
Fuck knows, but now I'm out the other side and the pressure of having to live here is off, it's kind of fun - where else would all this fucked-up shit happen to you?
Comments
But f*ck it, I'm sayin' it. Drove home buzzing.
Awesome night. Engaging, erudite and incredibly generous chats. Hope I didn't hijack the flow too much with my pet project which you all seem waaaay more qualified to be pursuing than me. Deep seams to mine which I'll endeavour to pursue in a way that creates further evenings, drinks, good times and maybe reconnects old friends.
I'll see you here more often, IRL too and if any of you ever stray east along the A11 Norwich-bound you'll be properly fed, watered and re- homed.
Thanks for welcoming me and thanks for the record gifts. Some way,some how, y'all gonna get payback for that!
Right, everyone unscathed?
Got in at 1, at work for 7.30, sausage+egg sammich & latte combo killed off any lurking hangover vibes by 9, it's all good and Clerkenwell pub crawl tonight.
::yay::
Sh*t, was a great game aswell!
Always great to see you again Stev* and Al* - you missed a trick with those burgers, very tasty. Secret Wenger love revealed from Junior! Everybody loves an idealist.
Nice to meet you Ian, as I said, if you want to find out more about bad housemates there are some blog-like entries in this thread but I might search out some choice morsels for you... probably using such keywords as "crack", "smack", "ketamin psychosis", "abhorrent perversity", and "kept me awake all night".
Dom, if you're reading, sign-up and share some knowledge! Was great to meet you and would be good to learn more about the Colchester acid-jazz/rare groove scene - do a mix for your intro thread entitled Music To Be Hip To or something ;-)
Can't fathom where you put it all.
I did feel a bit Damien Duff heute morgen, though.
b/w
Jimster, you were missed.
b/w
https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=652678761409588&set=vb.638631559480975&type=2&theater;
Ha! I thought I was quite valiant to admit to my previous misuse of his image for personal gain. I probably shouldn't have told him it five times while laughing excitedly though.
On top of the declaration of Wenger appreciation I think I also expressed a wish to see Liverpool rewarded for taking a punt on Rogers. Must have been a very benevolent evening. Was great fun and knew I'd missed out on the burger when it turned up with a steak knife driven through its heart.
My only request is that next time we do it within semi sight of either a railway or through road for black cabs to accommodate those of us lacking the Ray Mears gene. Still trying to work out the route I chose that took over an hour to get back to Stratford....
Thank you all.
Someone please re-up the fateful photo.
And, it turns out, a key influence on the beer-sodden, chip-strewn youthful escapades of the boy Junior.
Also a source of much potential research info for the boy Pattrick.
RW YOLO right there
Here's both the pic and the thread.
Was there an earlier thread where this pic was posted and followed by a pile-on?
Probably last year.
Junior must have it. Shit, might even have been on the "other" board.
Or suede.
Apropos of nothing, I bought meself a pleather jacket in Ibiza. It was too good a deal. Problem was, I had to wear it going home to keep the baggage down. Sweated like a rapist. And I had food-poisoning from the night before. How it was rocked onstage for Lizzy and dem BITD I will never know.
Real men etc. No wonder the f*cker has a statue.
No need, recent events I didn't get to tell you all about should do the trick;
So my landlord (an old school friend) is an unrepentant alcoholic (he recently brought a tramp back to our house and shagged her - that's another story altogether). His partner in crime, another old school friend, let's call him B.J. ahem, ahem, anti-search-text Cox (because that's his name), and a girl known as Crazy Emma had a bit of an escapade recently which came at a bad time for my landlord who was feeling a bit fragile after a heavy couple of days.
The musician keyboardist guy who lives here had a couple of friends round for a jam. One of them is a sound engineer by trade, and apparently worked on albums with the Rolling Stones & Elton John, but when the wife vanished he was left with the kids and had to take time out. He still knows how to take coke like a rock star though, and proceeded to cut up lines as long as your arm for my landlord who wouldn't turn his nose up at methylated spirits (which reminds me that at one stage when B.J.'s pharmaceutical trading career was in full swing - burying drugs in fields, Jnr - our house had three functioning coke mirrors). The next day my landlord got very very drunk and did an all-nighter on cider. The day after that, he went to Wetherspoons for a liquid breakfast and promptly shat himself. He went to the toilets, disrobed and discovered that the damage was limited to his boxers, so he went commando and wondered what to do with his kegs. He decided to flush them down the toilet. This of course led to the toilet blocking, and overflowing, so he got down on his knees and stuck his arm down the toilet, forcing his shite-smeared kegs round the u-bend to avoid the possibility of flooding the men's room and bringing unwanted attention to himself. He then received a text from Crazy Emma asking if he wanted to meet in town because she was taking her new lodger out for a meal. With the prospect of a free drink on his mind, my landlord set off for town. Somehow he lost his way, arrived late and had missed the food, but they were still drinking wine, so he happily joined them for a glass. And shat himself again. Crazy Emma took him back to her flat where he cleaned himself and his trousers. An unspecified amount of alcohol was consumed. BJ then entered the fray (BJ has since confirmed that, through personal experience, really heavy coke sessions can lead to this level of incontinence). Crazy Emma & BJ decided to go to Tescos to buy some more booze (my landlord cannot go to this branch of Tescos as he was recently barred*).
Crazy Emma & BJ returned from Tescos with more booze, and something else. The specifics are a little hazy as to how or why, I only know that they also had with them a lady of Pakistani ethnicity who announced that she was ready to pay for sex. She demanded to be licked-out, and without hesitation BJ got down to business. My landlord started to kiss her, and at some point in the proceedings acknowledged that some kind of introduction might be suitable and asked her name. It's a name that my landlord recognised instantly - this lady is the older sister of a guy, let's call him Rahmoo, who used to pick on him at school. When my landlord asked her to confirm if she is indeed Rahmoo's sister, her desire to be spit-roasted on the carpet by two strangers cooled somewhat. At this point Crazy Emma handed my landlord and BJ ??20 each. BJ asked what the money was for, and Crazy Emma explained that it was from Rahmoo's sister for services rendered. My landlord, perhaps sobered by his brush with the past, instantly returned his money to the lady, and told BJ to do the same. Crazy Emma refused to, saying it was her money now, even though she was the only person not to have, ahem, earned it. The lady went batshit crazy, screamed that she is a Muslim woman, if her family find out about this she and they will all be dead, and attacked Crazy Emma for her refusal to return the money. Choice words were exchanged while my landlord tried to separate the two. House turned into a war zone, so he escaped the carnage and returned to our house where he found me asleep on the sofa with a stray kitten snoozing on my belly - Who's cat is that? I dunno. Give me a drink, you'll never believe what just happened to me.
What happened after my landlord ran away? The Muslim lady left the flat, and left a note in BJ's pocket that said she had something of theirs which made no sense until Crazy Emma's new lodger came back to the flat and discovered her laptop was missing. Crazy Emma called the phone number on the note and told the Muslim lady to return the laptop not to her flat, but to my landlord's house - MY HOUSE - and said she would be refunded. Crazy Emma then went out that night, got drunk on the money she had taken from the Muslim lady, tripped and fell down some stairs to a nightclub and fractured her wrist. Karma! My landlord made some frantic and angry phone calls and had Crazy Emma call the Muslim lady back and arrange for the laptop to be returned to Crazy Emma's flat. Crazy Emma's lodger went ballistic, demanded the police be involved, but Crazy Emma is on remand for statutory rape (she had lesbo sex with an underage girl), panicked and came to our house. I had to help her check into a hotel because my landlord felt unsafe in our house and ran off to another town to see his casual sex partner (the slightly, no definitely, insane recovering anorexic that my landlord once had sex with when visiting her in a mental institution). When Crazy Emma went back to her flat, the night I was in London with you guys, the Muslim lady threw a brick through Crazy Emma's window, and has been arrested. We assume that she may well be explaining to the police that she paid for sex, that the one person she paid for sex in fact didn't have sex with her, and she wanted a refund, that if her family find out why the brick was thrown, there could be an honour killing. Or several.
So I write this stuff down in case you guys read about a cricket-bat massacre in a quiet suburb of Oxford and I go MIA.
* How my landlord got barred from Tescos; BJ & my landlord, both very drunk, went to the supermarket to get some booze. BJ handed my landlord a bottle of wine and he decided to steal it (down the front of his trousers). Was spotted by security and apprehended on the door. Security promptly phoned the police and took my landlord to a secure room. Once in this room, my landlord began to spill his guts, he gave them a pathetic sob-story that makes Chunk's confession sound like a weather report. He says this lasted a full 40 mins.
By the time the police arrive, the store manager doesn't have the heart to press charges, but the police officers are ready to arrest him, and begin to read him his rights. So he furiously went through the entire sob-story routine again, all 40 mins worth of material about his hard-luck life, how stupid he has been, how he'll never do this again... and by the end of it, the police un-cuff him and let him go! My landlord strangely takes so much pride in this feat of escapology that he still fails to acknowledge it was his own imbecility that got him into that situation in the first place.
The backstory was like finding a tenner after losing a fiver.
And the Tequila, L*o, it helps you make sense of all this?"
No wonder dude(r) is getting a statue of his liver.
The stray kitten is back.
I've just made a sick beat on ableton.
#keepingmyheaddown
edit: more info for Ian.
Housemates past:
The reformed junkie. Excellent guy, gutted he left actually, but while he was here he would have the occasional *lapse*. Probably best thing for him was moving out. Could do rubik's cube in a couple of minutes, works in computers doing maths stuff.
The gay ket addict from Zimbabwe (just remembered his nickname - Cold Feet Pete). Unemployed.
Night-shift guy. Moaned about noise during the day, pissed on the toilet seat and never cleaned up. Dude was 40-ish. Pain in the butt.
The sniff-dealer. Has two kids by his long-term gf, but regularly cheats on her, for some reason she took him back. Unemployed.
The Porn Dwarf. Alcoholic, good with I.T., great bloke when he's sober, but prone to 4 day benders blaring terrible 80s music all hours. Fuck I wish youtube had never been invented some times. Unemployed.
The gambler. When he was a teenager, he spent six months or something sulking and not moving - his legs look like he had polio. Unemployed, but he gambles like it's his profession - goes down to Bristol 3 times a week to play high stakes poker. Had a row with the landlord though and moved out after barely a week.
The paranoid schitzophrenic. Only manages to stay in the house for a couple of days before his inability to do basic things (like feeding himself) mean that he goes back to his mum's (he's 35, unemployed). Absences of two weeks are not unusual, so in this respect he's a great housemate!
Current mob:
The keyboardist IT wiz. Unemployed, brilliant musician, functioning alcoholic, has recently met a girl, seems to be straightening out.
The DJ/Promoter. Officially mentally ill and has lapses into paranoid schizophrenia (not the same guy as mentioned above, and yes, I know a third paranoid schitzophrenic who is regularly sectioned and can play Burt Jansch's Anji
better than any man alive or dead), but really the sanest of the lot. Super nice guy, but not really house-trained if you know what I mean.
The landlord. Unemployed alcoholic, 6, 7, 8 day benders are not beyond him. His behavior when he's drunk is one of the biggest problems in the house. I've known him since school, so on nights when he's lying on the sofa in a drunken stupor screaming his head off, I will fill up a bucket of water, walk downstairs, and calmly pour bucket of water over him, and then return to bed in an attempt to sleep.
....................................................................................................................................................................
One night, a bunch of people start turning up at the house. People I know, but they're mainly friends of the Sniff Dealer and the Landlord. Reform Junkie was still living in the house too. At this point the house still didn't have any curtains in the front room (it was over a year later when me & Porn Dwarf broke down and put some up ourselves after we gave up on 'reminding' the landlord to do it), but I knew something dodgy was going down when the Landlord got a bed sheet and pegged it up over the window - this was usually a sign that Sniff Dealer was going to start weighing and measuring in the front room. He also sold weed. He had 3 suitcases full of weed up in the loft, and when Sniff Dealer showed me, I told him that it was more weed than I'd ever seen in one place. It was just like a film looking at these vacuum packed bundles. On top of the sudden need for privacy, the guys who turned up all looked a bit sheepish. This was a work night, and I figured they were just going to have a mammoth coke session, so I went upstairs thinking if I turned in early I might sleep through the worst of their excesses. It wasn't to be. Throughout the night there was mad shouting, banging, loud music, and people pounding up and down the uncarpeted, raw floorboard stair case.
In the morning, pissed-off at a shit night's sleep, I go downstairs. Somebody's fuck-off christmas tree is in our hallway... just like it had been dragged in off the street, and left lying there totally blocking access to the front room and the kitchen. I climb over that and an armchair is on it's side in front of the kitchen. I walk into the front room, and everybody must have left in the wee hours. Furniture is turned over, empty cider bottles and beer cans everywhere. I see a weird lump on the floor, and pick it up. I realise it's a mouthful of spinach - MY fresh babyleaf spinach - that somebody has chewed up and spat out. There are more of these spitballs and my satsumas have been thrown around. And there are converted coke-can crack pipes all around the room. I later find out that Reform Junkie had scored some crack, told Sniff Dealer & the Landlord, they invited a bunch of friends, and they all had a naughty crack session, a food fight, and somebody decided it would be mental to go and steal a christmas tree from a front garden.
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The whores.
So one night I get woken up by the sound of female voices and the braying, full-throated donkey-like laughter of the Landlord coming from downstairs. Initially pissed-off, I think to myself "Fuck me, they've pulled", and decide to try and get back to sleep. But there's some shouting, banging, and after a while silence. In the morning, after angrily interrogating all 3 of my housemates, I pieced together what really happened.
That night Porn Dwarf (already plastered, second day of continuous drinking) decided to wander round the corner to the all-night garage to buy some cider (living with these fuckers has turned me into a fan of Torie minimum pricing policy on booze I swear). On his way back, two ladies of the night struck up a convo with him, perhaps thinking he might be a very quick and easy job, or more likely they simply recognised how drunk he was and followed him back to the house sensing an opportunity. Porn Dwarf entered the house on his own. They must have stood outside for a bit discussing how they might be able to get money out of him, but at any rate, the Landlord heard female voices outside the front door and let them in. He was also pissed, with at least 24 hours of drinking under his belt.
Once inside, according to Paranoid Schizophrenic, they convinced the Landlord to part with ??20 so they could score him some weed to get them *in the mood*, and took his mobile so they could call a dealer. They took the Porn Dwarf's keys, and tried to take his laptop with them. They also made off with one of the bottles of cider that the Porn Dwarf had just bought from the garage.
None of them wanted to admit responsibility for letting the women in or for being conned & taken advantage of, and I was just annoyed at having my night's sleep disturbed AGAIN, but had to laugh at the cretins as they slowly admitted how they'd been ripped-off.
To make things worse, the Porn Dwarf's bike was nicked a couple of days later from outside the house, most likely using the keys that had been stolen. The only saving grace is that most of the house looks like such a shit-hole they probably figured they had taken everything of any value. Zero chance of the Landlord changing the locks though.
Do you want to know why he's barred from a branch of Co-Op?
I'm alive, aren't I?
Fuck me, there has to be a book in this. A BBC3 sitcom, even. Paging Thes...
Not such a lengthy one this... he went to the local Co-Op to buy some cider. The guy at the counter told him that he was too drunk, and that they wouldn't sell him any alcohol. My landlord says "You wanna know what I think about that?"
and undoes his trousers and flops his cock out onto the counter.The guy runs around the side of the counter chasing my landlord out of the shop screaming "Get out of my shop! You're fucking barred!"
You want to know why he's barred from a bar with music club round the back?
Bottling somebody.
Who did he bottle?
He and his band had just done a gig, and the guitarist & drummer were berating my landlord for being too pissed (he played bass), my landlord couldn't deal with the agro, so he took the full bottle of beer in his hand... and smashed it over his own head! The manager witnessed this and promptly barred him.
I could go on. But he is THE DEFINITION of YOLO.
Have you at any point thought "Maybe I should move out?".
It all kinda begs the question of why do you still live there? Or maybe how! Putting up with that shit and holding down a job and not getting dragged down to their level, must be hard fucking work.
Duder is the Landlord?
This had me fucking laughing!
It's the tequila - it all makes sense now.
Ex left me with a sizable debt in my name, I wanted to pay it off a quickly as poss. ??300 a month over 3 years before rent or bills or food. Couldn't afford to do it anywhere else. It's now paid, and I'm planning on doing a TEFL and moving to Barcelona. Or maybe I should take a sabbatical (sign-on) and write a book?
Fuck knows, but now I'm out the other side and the pressure of having to live here is off, it's kind of fun - where else would all this fucked-up shit happen to you?
Took a while to wade through the bacchanalian
Intricacies, but well worth it.
Definitely a Mop style opus in there.
All sacked after losing to West Brom. Please Malcolm, don't do it! I love what Moyes is doing at Man U.
b/w
When does Man U's difficult fixture list end?
Next May.