Weirdest housemate ever!?

I thought this would be about big brother lol

I thought this would be about big brother lol

Mike neglected to mention that he'd enclosed the key in a full condom for security purposes.

LOL, who does that???!!! haha, I have to meet Mike at some point in my life.

Ok, this one was at Reading Uni, but have to admit it wasn't my house, but a friend's. I'm glad it wasn't my house. I was living in halls for my second year, but a few of my mates moved out into a shared house. All blokes again.

As student houses on the Basingstoke Road go, it was a bit of a dump. And in the kitchen, well it was pretty small, so they had put a fridge in the downstairs loo, which was across the corridor and also had the washing machine, tumble drier, etc. Yeah, I wasn't sure of the hygiene issue either, but the blokes living in the house didn't mind. Being blokes and not being big on cleaning, the house started to take on an odour of rotting kebab. But when you are 20 and perpetually drunk, this is no big deal really.

Soon enough, most of the uni year ticked away. Even with exams coming up after Easter, we still went out clubbing right up until the end of term. The five people sharing the house and me all went home for the Easter break. I don't know if you remember Easter in 2000, but it was absolutely roasting. Memorable for one reason only.

I was back in halls a few days before term started to help get things sorted out at the hall, but I had a call from Andy saying that he was going to be back early as well and would I mind giving him a hand carrying stuff as he lived on the top floor. What are mates for eh?

Well, I was waiting outside the house at the prearranged time and Andy was late as usual. He rang me to tell me he was just coming off the M4 as the M25 had been hell. But no, I think hell would have been pretty mild compared to what awaited us inside Andy's house.

We noticed the smell the second we got in. The sweet sickly odour of something that's been dead a long time. Andy knew that they had a problem with the occasional mouse and enlisted my help to try and find the corpse, hoping it would be somewhere easy like behind a sofa and not under the floorboards. We sniffed all round the house, and oddly enough, the smell was coming from the downstairs loo. But we were puzzled. The toilet I'll agree was filthy, but it was not a dead mouse.

Thinking that the mouse was behind one of the appliances, we decided to shift them to check. Washing machine, no; tumble drier, no; fridge...

Andy puked - luckily he made the toilet, and the smell was so bad I had to leave the room. As Andy had moved the fridge, there was a sloshing noise, the sound of spilling water and a wave of putrid gas filled the air. Gagging, Andy looked round the back of the fridge.

If you ever look behind your fridge - and because of this, I will never forget - you will see a little bucket or tray that pulls out. This is where all the water that condenses in the fridge drains to and collects. This bucket is cleverly sat next to the pump and heat exchanger so that the warmth from this machinery help the water evaporate. This is a fantastic piece of design.

Unless a rat has gotten itself stuck in the bucket and drowned. Then, together with the warmth and wetness, it becomes a perfect machine for creating rotting rat soup.

In spite of the stink, Andy knew he had to get the contents of the bucket out of the house, so he armed himself with a stick and a bin liner. He planned to fish the rat out with the stick, into the bin bag and go straight to the outside bin. Unfortunately when a rat is marinading in warm water for several weeks, this usually contributes to its reduced structural integrity. The stick went right through the rat like a hot knife through butter. This filled the water in the bucket with an even stinkier mixture of rotting rat and maggots.

Eventually he realised that the only way to deal with the matter was to dump a bottle of bleach in and head down the pub for a pint before removing the rat and contents with Marigold rubber gloves.

Ok, this one was at Reading Uni, but have to admit it wasn't my house, but a friend's. I'm glad it wasn't my house. I was living in halls for my second year, but a few of my mates moved out into a shared house. All blokes again.

As student houses on the Basingstoke Road go, it was a bit of a dump. And in the kitchen, well it was pretty small, so they had put a fridge in the downstairs loo, which was across the corridor and also had the washing machine, tumble drier, etc. Yeah, I wasn't sure of the hygiene issue either, but the blokes living in the house didn't mind. Being blokes and not being big on cleaning, the house started to take on an odour of rotting kebab. But when you are 20 and perpetually drunk, this is no big deal really.

Soon enough, most of the uni year ticked away. Even with exams coming up after Easter, we still went out clubbing right up until the end of term. The five people sharing the house and me all went home for the Easter break. I don't know if you remember Easter in 2000, but it was absolutely roasting. Memorable for one reason only.

I was back in halls a few days before term started to help get things sorted out at the hall, but I had a call from Andy saying that he was going to be back early as well and would I mind giving him a hand carrying stuff as he lived on the top floor. What are mates for eh?

Well, I was waiting outside the house at the prearranged time and Andy was late as usual. He rang me to tell me he was just coming off the M4 as the M25 had been hell. But no, I think hell would have been pretty mild compared to what awaited us inside Andy's house.

We noticed the smell the second we got in. The sweet sickly odour of something that's been dead a long time. Andy knew that they had a problem with the occasional mouse and enlisted my help to try and find the corpse, hoping it would be somewhere easy like behind a sofa and not under the floorboards. We sniffed all round the house, and oddly enough, the smell was coming from the downstairs loo. But we were puzzled. The toilet I'll agree was filthy, but it was not a dead mouse.

Thinking that the mouse was behind one of the appliances, we decided to shift them to check. Washing machine, no; tumble drier, no; fridge...

Andy puked - luckily he made the toilet, and the smell was so bad I had to leave the room. As Andy had moved the fridge, there was a sloshing noise, the sound of spilling water and a wave of putrid gas filled the air. Gagging, Andy looked round the back of the fridge.

If you ever look behind your fridge - and because of this, I will never forget - you will see a little bucket or tray that pulls out. This is where all the water that condenses in the fridge drains to and collects. This bucket is cleverly sat next to the pump and heat exchanger so that the warmth from this machinery help the water evaporate. This is a fantastic piece of design.

Unless a rat has gotten itself stuck in the bucket and drowned. Then, together with the warmth and wetness, it becomes a perfect machine for creating rotting rat soup.

In spite of the stink, Andy knew he had to get the contents of the bucket out of the house, so he armed himself with a stick and a bin liner. He planned to fish the rat out with the stick, into the bin bag and go straight to the outside bin. Unfortunately when a rat is marinading in warm water for several weeks, this usually contributes to its reduced structural integrity. The stick went right through the rat like a hot knife through butter. This filled the water in the bucket with an even stinkier mixture of rotting rat and maggots.

Eventually he realised that the only way to deal with the matter was to dump a bottle of bleach in and head down the pub for a pint before removing the rat and contents with Marigold rubber gloves.

Ok, this one was at Reading Uni, but have to admit it wasn't my house, but a friend's. I'm glad it wasn't my house. I was living in halls for my second year, but a few of my mates moved out into a shared house. All blokes again.

As student houses on the Basingstoke Road go, it was a bit of a dump. And in the kitchen, well it was pretty small, so they had put a fridge in the downstairs loo, which was across the corridor and also had the washing machine, tumble drier, etc. Yeah, I wasn't sure of the hygiene issue either, but the blokes living in the house didn't mind. Being blokes and not being big on cleaning, the house started to take on an odour of rotting kebab. But when you are 20 and perpetually drunk, this is no big deal really.

Soon enough, most of the uni year ticked away. Even with exams coming up after Easter, we still went out clubbing right up until the end of term. The five people sharing the house and me all went home for the Easter break. I don't know if you remember Easter in 2000, but it was absolutely roasting. Memorable for one reason only.

I was back in halls a few days before term started to help get things sorted out at the hall, but I had a call from Andy saying that he was going to be back early as well and would I mind giving him a hand carrying stuff as he lived on the top floor. What are mates for eh?

Well, I was waiting outside the house at the prearranged time and Andy was late as usual. He rang me to tell me he was just coming off the M4 as the M25 had been hell. But no, I think hell would have been pretty mild compared to what awaited us inside Andy's house.

We noticed the smell the second we got in. The sweet sickly odour of something that's been dead a long time. Andy knew that they had a problem with the occasional mouse and enlisted my help to try and find the corpse, hoping it would be somewhere easy like behind a sofa and not under the floorboards. We sniffed all round the house, and oddly enough, the smell was coming from the downstairs loo. But we were puzzled. The toilet I'll agree was filthy, but it was not a dead mouse.

Thinking that the mouse was behind one of the appliances, we decided to shift them to check. Washing machine, no; tumble drier, no; fridge...

Andy puked - luckily he made the toilet, and the smell was so bad I had to leave the room. As Andy had moved the fridge, there was a sloshing noise, the sound of spilling water and a wave of putrid gas filled the air. Gagging, Andy looked round the back of the fridge.

If you ever look behind your fridge - and because of this, I will never forget - you will see a little bucket or tray that pulls out. This is where all the water that condenses in the fridge drains to and collects. This bucket is cleverly sat next to the pump and heat exchanger so that the warmth from this machinery help the water evaporate. This is a fantastic piece of design.

Unless a rat has gotten itself stuck in the bucket and drowned. Then, together with the warmth and wetness, it becomes a perfect machine for creating rotting rat soup.

In spite of the stink, Andy knew he had to get the contents of the bucket out of the house, so he armed himself with a stick and a bin liner. He planned to fish the rat out with the stick, into the bin bag and go straight to the outside bin. Unfortunately when a rat is marinading in warm water for several weeks, this usually contributes to its reduced structural integrity. The stick went right through the rat like a hot knife through butter. This filled the water in the bucket with an even stinkier mixture of rotting rat and maggots.

Eventually he realised that the only way to deal with the matter was to dump a bottle of bleach in and head down the pub for a pint before removing the rat and contents with Marigold rubber gloves.

Oh, I have loads of stories - after uni I always end up in a new house every six months, either because I find out that one of the randomers I move in with is so disgusting, or someone moves out and life with the new resident becomes unbearable.

I'll tell you about the garlic mayo and sour milk incident I think, but I have plenty more experiences that are equally hilarious...

Well, I was living in this house in Nottingham for a couple of months, and there was an empty room. There was a call from the landlord to say that he was having someone move in and could someone be home to let him in, give him a key, etc etc.

This guy actually ended up ringing one of us, his name was Mike. Mike said that we were all going down to the Lady Bay pub, he was leaving a key on the inside of the back bathroom windowsill and he was to reach in and get it, and then meet us all down the pub.

Mike neglected to mention that he'd enclosed the key in a full condom for security purposes.

Being frosted glass, the guy obviously couldn't see in and was groping around blind when he found it. I can only imagine what it would have been like. James was pretty much fuming when he turned up at the pub later.

Mike assured him that the substance in the condom wasn't actually cum but garlic sauce. "Don't believe me? Smell your finger". Nice!

Revenge was a long time coming, but that was also absolutely hilarious!

After being in the flat for about a month, James discovered the three month old milk in the back of the fridge that was left by the previous tenant. You know how it goes with fridges, if it's not yours, you don't bother with it and if the owner isn't there, it keeps on getting more rancid as time goes by.

This milk was disgusting after three months and smelt pretty bad, but James came up with quite a prank to get back at Mike.

Mike was out, staying with with his girlfriend C at her and her parents' place. She was a lovely girl and I felt sorry for her every time she came round to stay as our place was such a tip, Mike's bedrooom even more so. James had tipped the four pint carton of rancid slop into a mixing bowl and gave it a good stir. The stench made me almost want to vomit.

James then went into Mike's room and placed this bowl under his bed, along with a copy of Red Hot 60+ and a box of Kleenex that was on Mike's table. The doors were closed and left that way until Mike got back at the weekend with C for a night of "Oh my God, we're out from under the parents' gaze lets have lots of sex" sex.

We were all in on this, and sure enough, we heard "WHAT THE HOLY ****" and sounds of an argument. Mike came storming in and demanded to know who'd replaced the air in his room with a rancid dairy product in a gaseous state.

James suggested he smell his fingers. Mike was proper angry. He went for James and we had to pull him off. Apparently the stench and the realisation that Mike was rubbing em out over grannies and then keeping the contents under his bed long enough for them to turn rancid didn't sit well with C.

James said that he could keep the mag as long as was required. Unfortunately we were laughing so hard, we couldn't stop Mike punching James this time.

Oh, I have loads of stories - after uni I always end up in a new house every six months, either because I find out that one of the randomers I move in with is so disgusting, or someone moves out and life with the new resident becomes unbearable.

I'll tell you about the garlic mayo and sour milk incident I think, but I have plenty more experiences that are equally hilarious...

Well, I was living in this house in Nottingham for a couple of months, and there was an empty room. There was a call from the landlord to say that he was having someone move in and could someone be home to let him in, give him a key, etc etc.

This guy actually ended up ringing one of us, his name was Mike. Mike said that we were all going down to the Lady Bay pub, he was leaving a key on the inside of the back bathroom windowsill and he was to reach in and get it, and then meet us all down the pub.

Mike neglected to mention that he'd enclosed the key in a full condom for security purposes.

Being frosted glass, the guy obviously couldn't see in and was groping around blind when he found it. I can only imagine what it would have been like. James was pretty much fuming when he turned up at the pub later.

Mike assured him that the substance in the condom wasn't actually cum but garlic sauce. "Don't believe me? Smell your finger". Nice!

Revenge was a long time coming, but that was also absolutely hilarious!

After being in the flat for about a month, James discovered the three month old milk in the back of the fridge that was left by the previous tenant. You know how it goes with fridges, if it's not yours, you don't bother with it and if the owner isn't there, it keeps on getting more rancid as time goes by.

This milk was disgusting after three months and smelt pretty bad, but James came up with quite a prank to get back at Mike.

Mike was out, staying with with his girlfriend C at her and her parents' place. She was a lovely girl and I felt sorry for her every time she came round to stay as our place was such a tip, Mike's bedrooom even more so. James had tipped the four pint carton of rancid slop into a mixing bowl and gave it a good stir. The stench made me almost want to vomit.

James then went into Mike's room and placed this bowl under his bed, along with a copy of Red Hot 60+ and a box of Kleenex that was on Mike's table. The doors were closed and left that way until Mike got back at the weekend with C for a night of "Oh my God, we're out from under the parents' gaze lets have lots of sex" sex.

We were all in on this, and sure enough, we heard "WHAT THE HOLY ****" and sounds of an argument. Mike came storming in and demanded to know who'd replaced the air in his room with a rancid dairy product in a gaseous state.

James suggested he smell his fingers. Mike was proper angry. He went for James and we had to pull him off. Apparently the stench and the realisation that Mike was rubbing em out over grannies and then keeping the contents under his bed long enough for them to turn rancid didn't sit well with C.

James said that he could keep the mag as long as was required. Unfortunately we were laughing so hard, we couldn't stop Mike punching James this time.

this is the sort of **** that scares me about uni, i don't want no dirty smelly housemates who leave pubes on the toilet seat and don't clean up after themselves and are unable to grasp the concept of basic hygiene, no ones gonna make friends with me LOOL dirty buggers

There is a difference between being clean and going nuts and OCD demanding things of your roomates that are ridiculous