As Welcome as a Fart in a Spacesuit

I’ve moved into a new flat and I seem to have the Midas touch when it comes to annoying my neighbours. I don’t think I’m particularly loud (no one does when they’re drunk do they) but my two friends and I have recently had another noise complaint – this time written in an email to the owner of the flat. This email said ‘Have you rented this flat out to students?! They are party animals – they are so loud and it happens so often, please help.’ To clarify, we are young professionals who should certainly now know better. The real trouble started on Sunday night.

I was going to have an old friend over for dinner. This snowballed into 7 people all piled around my kitchen table, enjoying garlic bread, vodka pasta, and drinking copious amounts of gin and tonics. Two people left, leaving the rest of us playing a particularly vicious game of adult snap (nothing dirty about the game, just lots of rules) and smacking the table in a competitive drunken haze.

A knock at the door at 11pm on a Sunday night can’t be good, especially when it’s the block manager. He had a face like thunder (as obviously you would have if you were forced out of your bed by angry residents) and asked to see my friend and I to have a chat. This was not a good idea as we were fairly inebriated, to say the least. This is how the conversation between me, T (my friend), and Miner (block manager) went:

Miner: How many people do you have in there?

T: We only have our boyfriends round

Miner: Please, you’re being so loud. People have to wake up and go to work tomorrow, could you possibly be a little quieter? Perhaps go to bed?

T: Are YOU saying we CANT have our BOYFRIENDS round?????

Me: shhhhh T. Sorry it’s unacceptable (slurring).

Miner: I’m not saying that please. The block just needs to be quiet after 11pm and a few residents have complained. I don’t want to be out of my bed on a Sund….

T: Do you have a …girlfriend? (giving off ‘officer pretty’ vibes)

Stunned silence. Only broken by Miner giving my sober friend who’d lived in that house for 3 years a perplexed sideways glance. We were all baffled, apart from T of course who was standing her ground as she obviously thought that was an appropriate/relevant comment to make. He quickly left, muttering he’d come back and have a chat when we are sober.

We are now having a hiatus of parties from the flat. It just seems that every flat I move into, I am as welcome as a fart in a spacesuit. Curious.

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