I scavenged food off my housemates for a week

If you’re anything like me, your student loan is long gone and the only way to make it to pay day is to steal food from your housemates.

So I decided to spend a week doing just that.

At first I thought it would be easy. I planned to raid the freezer for the reduced meals that everyone saved for a later date but forgot about.

But I soon found out it wasn’t that simple. Following a night out, the freezer door mysteriously fell off and by morning the Iceland chicken korma was inedible.

I was going to starve.

Monday

The first day started off well. I found some peanut butter in the communal cupboard and was eating like a king – peanut butter on toast for breakfast and peanut butter sandwiches for lunch.

I had a feeling that peanut butter jar and I were going to be best friends for the week.

But I couldn’t steal anything that would go unnoticed for dinner – leaving me with dry Wheetos from the international student’s cupboard.

Tuesday

Life as a scrounger wasn’t too bad. For breakfast I raided the fridge and managed to make myself a luxurious sausage sandwich.

By lunch the fridge was looking empty, so I spent most of the day trying to convince my housemates to go food shopping.

They didn’t realise I had no intention of paying for my food and was going to “accidentally” forget my wallet.

That plan failed when my housemate refused to drive.

So I combined lunch and dinner and stole some gone-off egg to make a surprisingly tasty breadless mackerel and egg sandwich.

Wednesday

With a full day on campus I was wondering if Campus Kitchen would let me borrow food for lunch.

But I didn’t need to ask, because luckily I bumped into my saviour – a hot dog wielding friend.

She offered me some and I managed to secure three bites of mouth-watering hot dog.

Later I came home to the sweet smell of bacon. I rubbed my empty stomach, dreaming of the crispy delight being cooked by my housemate.

To my horror he had demolished it before I had the chance to groak (watch him eat in the hope he offers me some).

I turned to the now unappetising peanut butter jar. Unable to face the end slice of bread – now two days past its sell-by date – I grabbed the nearest spoon and began to chomp down.

I couldn’t work out why my housemates weren’t going food shopping – maybe they’d realised what I was up to.

Thursday

I was struggling. Breakfast and lunch became non-existent.

It also didn’t help that my international housemate had discovered the Tesco Meal Deal. By buying up to three per day, he had breakfast, lunch and dinner covered.

But I did manage to bag half a southern fried chicken wrap for lunch with a couple of kettle chips by doing some top notch groaking.

To my dismay, my international housemate persuaded my other housemates to get the infamous deal for dinner too, so it was back to Wheetos and milk.

Being paid exactly at midnight meant that not only could I drink my body weight in Jagerbombs when the clock struck 12, I could treat myself to Prince of Wales’ finest food outlets.

At the end of the night I gave in and paid for the best doner kebab.

Friday

Worrying about what I was going to eat for breakfast I had forgotten that it was pay day.

I no longer had to steal, scavenge and suffer.

I was preparing to head straight to Tesco’s but after acquiring a set of hunting skills that would put me on a level playing field with Bear Grylls, I found myself still managing to steal food.

Would I do this again? Yes. Food always tastes better when it’s not yours.

Could I do it again? No. I don’t think my flatmates are ever going to trust me around their food or the freezer door again.