I mentioned the other day that we'd found our fifth housemate for next year, but sadly this has fallen through. Apparently he's found a house nearer to his uni or something.
So, instead of telling you about Henk, our housemate never to be, I shall cast an eye to the past and (briefly) tell ye a couple of stories from yore that slipped under the Cutlery radar...
I. Eggs
I was not present for this incident, so I shall be recounting it secondhand. My housemates were assembled in the kitchen, for one reason or another, when some bright spark decided to open the fridge. Out tumbled several of Gemma Ward's eggs, which presumably had not been fastened down in the proper manner.
"My eggs!"
The eggs were lost, but that wasn't the worst part. They didn't quite make it to the floor, instead aiming to land on Peter Murphy. They found their mark, splattering his lower appendages with eggy goo.
"My legs!"
II. The Cunning Trickery of Sophie Jones
A knock is heard at the door. Joel Dear wonders whether or not to answer it, but the scamper of feet coming downstairs indicates that the matter is under control.
Sophie Jones heads towards the door, but can see through the window that it is not someone she would care to speak to. She decides that Joel is better equipped to handle this one, so, instead of opening the door, she calls for her housemate.
"Joel! It's the landlord!"
Joel gets on fairly well with the landlord, and his happy to greet him. But upon opening the door - shockhorror! - Joel realises that he has been duped, and that he is in fact now saying how-do to a couple of Jehovah's Witnesses.
He deals with them in a curt manner before shutting the door and calling Sophie a cunt.
Joel.
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