How coursework lead to the discovery of the creepy housemate

Though this blog will most likely go out during mid-afternoon it is important to establish that it begun at 1:36am.

The reason for this is that my body clock over the past week has become completely distorted because of that old foe... the coursework deadline. And what better way to spend this peculiar time of night than writing a blog about the state it has left my mind in and what I have discovered harbouring in the house.

Firstly, I understand that some irritating and patronising few reading this might state 'but Matt, you shouldn't have left it to last minute' (goes out specifically to my dad who loves making this point). Yes it was set ages ago, but due to seminars on novels I am writing about having only recently happened, I wasn't going to begin the work to find out I had been wrong and needed start all over, DAD.

I have currently spent 10 hours in three days in the library. Might not sound like a lot but considering the other 62 hours were spent reading on relevant academia on the work done in those 10 hours, I think I have balanced it quite well. Reading academia for those not familiar with the term just means reading published articles on your essay topic to realise you cannot write anything near as good.

I much prefer coursework to exams and English does favour this. For example for the whole of my second year I have not had to endure one exam to my relief; mainly because I am crap at them.

But the problem with having an extensive piece of work is that it has the great ability to change your patience from a solid 8 to a complete zero. Your diet will become incredibly pizza orientated and will screw with your sleeping pattern. Even now it has got to 1:53 am and I am still wide awake.

Now the time is 16:52 as I finish it up and though it has been a few days since the deadline I have found that my sleep is still a little muddled. However, I have found that one certain individual awakens at this time of night (around 12am) and goes about his 'nightly' life.

We have someone living with us who never socilaises with us and the only time we see him is when he is skyping his American girlfriend, to which he attempts to imitate her accent with complete cringeness. His actual name will be hidden but that doesn't matter as we refer to him as Paddy, not that he knows this... The reason behind this name is because of Patrick Swayze who played a ghost in the film 'Ghost', a rather peculiar nickname but certainly has relevance.

In the middle of the night I hear him ponder downstairs to the kitchen whilst his irritating and fake American accent is in its most confidence. I hear the odd 'I love you baby' followed by an incredibly sloppy kiss sound or sometimes if he is feeling rather intimate 'what was that puppy?'. I lie in bed in complete horror that anyone could possibly act in this way.The nearest I get to imitating my Polish girlfriend is by shouting 'eeeshh meeesh' in a Borat accent to describe how the Polish language is thought to by the English, or maybe just me.

I struggle to understand how anyone can live with others without attempting to talk to them or even acknowledge them. We might be a group of guys who constantly take the piss out of eachother but we are a friendly bunch.

I am now forcing myself to wake up earlier so I can go to sleep before he wakes. Mainly so I don't have to endure his poorly executed American accent claiming that he is so in love with her that he feels the need to put his mouth right up to the camera to slobber... yes he does actually do this.

I get that not everyone wishes to socialise with certain people but come on! You can't stay in your room for the entirety of time doing things in front of a camera I am pretty sure would be illegal in most countries knowing of his character.

Yet even though he comes across as an nocturnal 'thing', he has succeeded where the rest of the group has failed. He possess something that usually makes someone an integral part of any friendship group. He has the 'nickname'. And for that he has some respect but I highly doubt he will be making the most of that come tomorrow when all the 'paddies' will be out drowning themselves in Guinness on his name day, St Patricks Day.

So tomorrow I feel it might be appropriate to raise a glass of the black nectar to honour Lord Paddy of the 10th floor and all of his creepy mannerisms. He might not ever speak to us but he has sure lead to us lot giggling and in a way contributing to our happiness.

A traditional uni birthday

Birthdays are usually the most anticipated day of the year for the majority. Yet as you get older you usually find that they lose the excitement that they originally had until you get to your 18th.

Birthdays from 0-12 usually consist of burgers and ice-cream with the occasional birthday party thrown in every couple of years. At 12-17 they lose a lot of what they originally had and the presents normally dominate the day more than they should. 18+ they become something completely different.

At uni, birthdays aren't always seen as a positive for the individual having the birthday but more of an opportunity. Presents are very rarely anything but a drink in the pub but this is not to mean that it is a kind gesture of buying them there favourite drink.

My birthday started with myself buying a pint and everyone sat together enjoying a simple beverage. Then out of nowhere there were two shots waiting for me on the table. One being black sambuca, a vile liquid thick with everything evil in the world. The second was chili sambuca, a bright green acid that when the disgusting taste has passed a burning goes about destroying your mouth and throat. Luckily the following two drinks were a pint of Carlsberg and my favourite, a pint of Guinness. A few shots of tequila followed and a couple more pints and then the pricks of the group had there say in buying me a drink. Joe, whose birthday drinking session is luckily tonight, bought me something called 'liquid cocaine'. This is a shot made of tequila, gin, vodka and baileys. Then a little bit is extracted so that when necking the shot, the extracted bit is then snorted through a shortened straw. The pain cannot be described in normal langauge but to simplify it, it is not a pleasant experience. The last drink was something called a 'gas chamber'. This is in essence flaming sambuca but the fumes are kept so that after drinking the shot the fumes are inhaled, this time luckily through the mouth. A few pints followed and the rest of the night was left for me to try and digest the foul drinks and for them to laugh at my drunk sayings and doings.

One of the main benefits of having a birthday at uni is that firstly you don't have to worry about coming home to your mum or dad waiting to judge you or see you embarrassing yourself. Another is that if you are living with the people who are giving you the drinks, it is their responsibility to get you home safely so you can get yourself to a proper screwed up state.

So to finish up, if you have a mate who has a birthday coming up don't just settle for buying them a drink. Buy them the strongest/ most repulsive drink that is available as if you're going to spend money on someone, make sure it is well spent. However, this is not to say you shouldn't look after them. As soon as they get that drunk they are your responsibility. So just make sure they get home and that when you are there then anything goes.

Mini-saga (50 word story)

As part of my creative writing module this term, we were asked to go to a museum and take inspiration to write a piece of flash fiction, an exact 50 words story. This was inspired by a replica of a bomb shelter from the second world war. 

The leftovers

In a cold and twisted heap, it stank of decisions of powerful men. The metal with its black scars ripped through the onlookers. Sour understanding the haven from the shells, the unpredictable rain, was never protection but an unmarked grave for those who lack the simplicity of luck and fortune.