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Gross Housemate Story


michael

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I lived with a bloke from Plymouth when I was at Uni in Preston (in the first year when you can't chose your 'friends'). He used to shit and not flush.. or use any paper apparently.. he was very proud of this. Very strange.

 

One day we (me and the other relatively normal bloke, there were 3 of us living in a damp terrenced house) found a 'red thing' in the sink, right in the plug hole.. neither of us mentioned it to the other, both probably knew it was 'Plymouth bloke', but just in case..

 

I poured bleach over the 'red thing', drain unblocker.. the heaviest chemical stuff Morrisons could muster, and couldn't shift it at all.... then one day, the other normal bloke decided to don the marigolds and 'go on in there'... he managed to pick it off the plug hole, and it turned out to be (I'm no doctor, but this is best description I can think of) a foot long blood clot that has hardened to the point of almost becoming a living organism in it's own right... we gagged, flushed it down the loo and asked said Plymouth bloke if he'd care to find some alternative lodgings.

 

Every time I hear that west country twang I think of the blood clot...

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:rlol:

 

Did it wink at you :D

 

I lived with a bloke from Plymouth when I was at Uni in Preston (in the first year when you can't chose your 'friends'). He used to shit and not flush.. or use any paper apparently.. he was very proud of this. Very strange.

 

One day we (me and the other relatively normal bloke, there were 3 of us living in a damp terrenced house) found a 'red thing' in the sink, right in the plug hole.. neither of us mentioned it to the other, both probably knew it was 'Plymouth bloke', but just in case..

 

I poured bleach over the 'red thing', drain unblocker.. the heaviest chemical stuff Morrisons could muster, and couldn't shift it at all.... then one day, the other normal bloke decided to don the marigolds and 'go on in there'... he managed to pick it off the plug hole, and it turned out to be (I'm no doctor, but this is best description I can think of) a foot long blood clot that has hardened to the point of almost becoming a living organism in it's own right... we gagged, flushed it down the loo and asked said Plymouth bloke if he'd care to find some alternative lodgings.

 

Every time I hear that west country twang I think of the blood clot...

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Reminds me of digs I stayed at when I was at college in King's Lynn - there was an old alcoholic that had one of the rooms in the house. You could smell his room (we realised that he had never ever used the shower in all the time people had been there) from down the corridor even with door locked.

 

But worst was one morning after he'd been particularly drunk. I walked in to the bathroom to get ready for work and will never forget the sight that greeted me. He had tried to go to the toilet (with the shits) but had been too drunk to realise the lid was down. He'd tried to clear it up but obviously given up and gone to bed. Shite smeared over the walls, coating the toilet, in the sink and splattered all over the floor. He never did get kicked out, but at least it was clean by the time I got back from college.

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This one time (at band camp) I'd been nicked and was spending the night in the cells. I woke up in the night busting for a dump but there wasn't a bog in my cell. I rang the buzzer and shouted for ages for someone to take me to the toilet but nobody came.

So I just did it in the corner of the cell. Man did it stink! When it's not underwater it smells 10x worse than anything you've ever done at home.

I chucked a blanket on top of it but it didn't really help much.

 

The cops weren't very happy with me in the morning and added a charge of criminally damaging a blanket with excrement!

 

That looked great in the local paper that did. :blush:

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