Returning students are currently find- ing out just who they chose to live with, as the merry quirks that were so endearing in halls become bone-meltingly tiresome over the early months of cohabitation.
“I don’t know what I was thinking”, sighs Gillian Clough, a second year Biology student. “Who would have thought that Wonderwall is all he can play?”
Other concerns now morphing into knife-sharpening loathing include dirty socks on the sofa, mysteriously missing milk, and a steadfast opposition to regular showers.
One student rumoured to be unex- pectedly awful is Benjamin Brinley-Scott, a third year classicist. As well as drinking alone every evening, he has spent hours dancing with his mother in the communal lounge (frequently smoothing the pleats of her skirt), and loudly satisfying his taste in Tennessee Bluegrass.
He can also often be heard sobbing uncontrollably about how his girlfriend from home is fucking someone else.
Mrs Brinley-Scott, 57, commented: “I don’t know what all the fuss is about. Benny never did anyone any mischief, and he’s come on so much since he learned how to make Super Noodles last week.
“If they don’t stop being mean to my baby I’m going to go down there and see to those naughty boys myself.”
While these turds in the Jacuzzi can often be hard to spot (because of the froth), collective vigilance and incessant gossiping helps to keep damage to a minimum.
If you suspect that your new house- mate-to-be might be a giant cock-end, in- serting clauses into your contract such as “tenants promise not to put licked forks back in the drawer” can help to separate the wheat from the cunts.