Mine

I was honestly doing my solid best to not leap headfirst into the frequently touted bandwagon of ‘I hate all students me’. Not wishing to insult any of my friends by saying that but given I know quite a few students and the ones that I actually dislike are in the minority I think it’s a fair comment. This is in spite of working at That Student Pub and coming face to face with overbloated, ‘Snakey-B’ drinking, badly-coiffed rugby players and their high heel toppling followers on a regular basis. My mind was cranked wide open.

This is until last night. Being the night after the media awards I was still hungover by 11pm, as is frequent the older I get, and I decided to go to bed. I closed my window fully expecting the Saturday night party-goers to be a ‘bit noisy’. I was first woken at about 2.30am by a gang of rowdy idiots conducting their own mini festival outside my window. That passed and I quickly returned to my slumber.

THEN it went further wrong. A bit of scene-setting: I have the downstairs front bedroom. In front of our house is some garden putting us about five yards from the street. Outside my window is a very sturdily bolted letting agent sign. I know it’s sturdy because for some time it made noises outside my window and I tried to pull it off. But I failed because it’s very sturdy. At 3.45am some clever sod decided to go into our garden and dangle himself from the sign in an attempt to pull it off. As we do not have double-glazing this naturally scared the living daylights out of me as I woke with a jolt at what sounded like someone trying to push my window pane through (which actually wouldn’t take that much pushing, I would wager).

He continued to yank at it whilst yelling something in protestful merriment to his friend. I laid in bed still recovering from the shock of being woken and scared stiff that he may actually break the window. When I had enough of the presence of mind to put on my glasses and look out the window he was making his way out of the garden in defeat. One of the few things that Charltons letting agent can do is put up sturdy signs.

I imagine the sheer audacity of this cocky shitbag is not lost on anyone. I mean, What The Fuck? Who on this earth does he think he is? Scenerio 1) I am one of the aforementioned high heel toppling rugby followers and currently have a 6’6” boyfriend built like a brick shithouse sleeping away in my bed. I can’t imagine that lad would be seeing his next birthday with both legs left.

Had I had a spare cricket bat to hand I would have gone out there full of rage and literally beaten that rotten little cock-end to pieces. Regardless of the fact I was wearing pyjama bottoms with dancing women on them. I can actually picture the entire bloody experience now but it’s not for me to repeat here.

So to conclude, I have packed my bags and am waiting at the bandwagon stop with my thumb stuck out. Hope there’s a spare seat.