These are the housemates of horror you’ll encounter at uni in Newcastle

Student living, mostly pleasant and fun, can also mean residing with unexpected characters, turning living situations into a living hell.

From the biscuit bandit to the party girl, living with students means you’ve seen it all. Brace yourself for the comical chronicles of nightmare housemates. Maybe you’ve lived with them, or maybe you are one… Here are all the horrific housemates you’ll come across at university in Newcastle.

The digestive muncher

We all have one housemate who cannot be trusted around sweet treats that’ve been left out. In my house, this transpired around the petty theft of four packs of chocolate digestive biscuits within the space of two weeks.

The culprit? We will never know (we do know). The housemate who rightfully owned these said digestives foolishly left them out not knowing they would fall victim to a free-for-all. No luxury is safe in a house full of broke students, her trust in humanity now as fragile as a biscuit dipped in tea.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Picture this, within an hour of the first pack of digestives being purchased the silent snatcher strikes! The packet is open, and the first two biscuits are gone whilst the owner is tucked in bed – all that remains is an empty mug with a sad-soaked Yorkshire Tea bag covered in the crumbs of dishonesty.

As the days go on, and the packets become increasingly vacant, rumours begin to spiral around the house after the victim sends a message on the group chat: “Guys ngl someone’s been stealing my digestives, I’ve literally had none and I bought them”.

It is now a game of Cluedo; everyone has their suspicions, I shall refrain from naming names (for dramatic effect, of course), but let it be known that the culprit walks among us.

Dear students, consider this a public service announcement: Your biscuits are not safe. Repeat, NOT SAFE. Leaving them unattended is akin to placing a juicy steak in front of a hungry lion and expecting it to be there when you return. It’s a jungle out there, and your biscuits are the prey.

The party girl: An ode to the unapologetic night owl

In the wild world of house-sharing, especially in Newcastle, you will inevitably reside with a party animal. In other words, the person who never wants the night to end thus, brings the club home at 4am nightly, forgetting others might not share the same love for late-night shenanigans. Those 9am lectures? Well, they turn into a distant memory as the Party Dynamo hits the Toon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There are pros and cons to this type of housemate: For one, it never gets boring, they’ve always got a wild story to tell from the night before, plus you’ve always got someone to party with. However, living with a party girl requires resilience to sleep deprivation and a tolerance for the unexpected nocturnal chaos. And of course, in the dead of night, she rings the Für Elise tuned doorbell because she can’t find her keys. Who would have imagined Beethoven would be the soundtrack of sleep depravity?

Oh, and let us not forget the late-night romantic rendezvous. The wafer-thin walls separating each room act as an amplifier, projecting a full-throttle symphony of rhythmic thumping, played at a volume that ensures the entire household becomes unwilling spectators.

Sleep? Never heard of it (while some like catching Ds, others like catching Zs).

The messy housemate who makes it impossible to navigate life

Take away boxes, scattered menthol filters, open toilet seats, hair in the shower, dirty dishes – you name it, I’ve seen it all when living with chaos personified.

Residing with this type of housemate, often disguised as a mummy’s boy, is to witness a masterclass in procrastination and domestic neglect, never have they ever lifted a finger in their lives, and it shows x.

The trail of disorder they leave in their wake is a testament to a lifetime of avoiding the responsibilities that come with adulting.

Yes, this is student living, and we all are guilty of an occasional blunder, a rogue dish or a drunken takeout box left out for a day or two, forgetting our cohabitation duties with the tumultuous stresses of uni life. However, a week or more of such neglect transforms the shared living space into a silent plea for intervention, reaching a point where we ourselves begin to feel akin to the rotting apple core left on the kitchen counter for eight days.

The chaos also travels into the realm of post-meal cleanliness – or lack thereof. Dirty dishes stacked like the Leaning Tower of Pisa ready to collapse lay accumulating in the blocked kitchen sink. The concept of washing a plate after use seems as foreign to this housemate as ancient hieroglyphics. And oh, let us not forget about the mysterious ecosystems living in the neglected mugs, an uncharted territory that could very well give rise to a new strain of microbial life. The mould infesting these vessels might just harbour the potential for a new pandemic, and I guarantee that the housemate who leaves these potent mugs in their room is none other than patient zero..

The one who targets the bathroom

And then, there’s the bathroom – a sacred space where cleanliness should reign supreme. Alas, in a majority all girls house, the messy flatmate proves audacious when leaving the toilet seat up and creating avant-garde sink art in the form of hair shavings. The bathroom, once a sanctuary of feminine order, transforms into a battleground of inconvenience. It’s a small daily challenge, navigating around these quirky habits in our otherwise harmonious space.

Consider this a call to arms dear reader – neglecting the smallest chores can birth unexpected chaos. Act now before your stacked dishes become a hazardous tower structure before your mugs become a breeding ground for new strains of bacteria and your bathroom becomes a primitive man cave. Consideration is key to peaceful living.

The chronicles of the clingy housemate – a comedy of unwanted companionship

The clingy housemate—an unsuspecting sidekick in disrupting your peace in your own home. This housemate, with their insatiable desire for constant companionship, turns even the most mundane activities into a quest for some much needed alone time.

In the midst of the exhaustion that is uni life, where socialising becomes a necessary survival skill, all one yearns for at the end of a taxing day is some quality me, myself and Netflix time. However, as you are ready to embrace the rarity of peace, the clingy flatmate has other plans.

Plans that involve them insisting on watching their favourite shows while providing live commentary the entirety of the way through. You might be thinking, “Why not just say no?” The truth is, with a clingy housemate, a simple no won’t cut it; instead, one must weave intricate excuses to ensure a moment of cherished privacy.

I’m not sure about you, but I’m someone who treasures the solo act of cooking. In a student house, this might sound like a lofty dream, especially when our kitchen seems to shrink at the mere thought of accommodating one person, let alone seven. However, the struggle of cooking in a minuscule kitchen is multiplied when the clingy housemate is constantly at your side, hovering over you like a culinary critic, casting judgment on your every move, offering unsolicited advice on the “proper techniques” of chopping an onion – they are Gordon Ramsey and this is my kitchen nightmare!

Navigating life with a clingy housemate calls for finesse and subtlety. Mastering the art of setting boundaries without causing offence becomes your secret strength as you carefully carve out moments of solitude amid the shared living chaos. A closed bedroom door or a casual commitment to solo activities protects against the unintentional pursuit of companionship.

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