Tab Cribs: Murray Edwards

This week we leave behind the columns and turrets of central Cambridge for something very much more ‘breeze block’. Jessica O’Driscoll-Breen opens her doors to us with a scream of: “Who the feck are you?” before leading us into a domestic dungeon of heady aromas and dark night-time visitors.

Ben Dalton: How did you get this house? 

Jessica O’Driscoll-Breen: We were, would you believe, actually bottom of the ballot. Initial impressions of the house weren’t fantastic, with us noticing before all else the pungent smell and bars on the windows. Then we transformed it from a hateful asylum to what we now know and love as ‘The House of Gin’.

Jessica reposes on her sofa, aside her gin and her Amy

BD: It smells absolutely cracking in here – what is that?

JODB: Oh thanks! That’s my incense – it’s called Nag Champa and it reminds me of my mum. She recently got into weird mystic shit and our house in Ireland is strewn with angel cards and incense. It’s good craic.

The Capri Sun sets over bedlam

BD: ‘House of Gin?’ 

JODB: We called it the House of Gin in a moment of epiphany one night. I also made a sign for the hall way to enforce this.

BD: Your house recently made Tab headlines as the scene of the crime of the Murray Edwards masturbator. I believe it happened in your room…

JODB: Yes. This was actually one of the perks of living here – the arrivals of the police made us look cool to our neighbours. The flasher made me realise that even being so far out of town, one is never truly alone. It’s nice, I guess.

Jessica reenacts the fateful night

BD: Your walls are lined with women with their bottoms showing. Why such naturist choices?

JODB: I’d rather not talk to you about it.

Botties a-plenty

BD: Starring in Tab Cribs is an honour by anyone’s standards. What makes the House of Gin Murray Edwards’ top pad?

JODB: The Elvis posters on the bathroom doors add undeniable spice to my quotidian. A supermodel also lives here. Although she didn’t want to appear in this article as she is quite camera shy.

Elvis died on the toilet.

Thank you very much Jessica. Don’t mind if I help myself to a pot of Alpro Soya on the way out…