Having made a
total balls of my A-levels, I didn't get in to my uni of choice and ended up going through clearing. I hadn't expected to fuck up quite so badly so hadn't really put much thought in to a back up plan, and in the end I simply applied to the old poly in the same city as my first choice. Got in fine, no problems etc. But I'd left it too late to get in to halls, so had to find somewhere to live.

The uni had rather kindly organised a massive list of private landlords and their properties, but again, having left it so late I was pretty much looking at the dregs when I got down there. Thats how I came to live in a house with a psychotic chinese lass and a bloke with an excessive fondness for Bolivian marching powder.

This guy was 26 and had been at uni for seven years. He'd never completed a course, either repeatedly failing years or changing his mind about the course and starting a new one. I can't imagine what role his penchant for little bags of white powder played in this...however I digress.

At the age of 26 his mother would:
1) Come down from London twice a month to tidy his room, and if she saw fit the communal areas of the house as well - once sparking a blazing row between her and the our mentalist female housemate for 'moving her knives'.
2) Take him to Tesco for his big shop whenever she came down, then put it all away, frequently moving or throwing away my food to do so. This is despite the fact that he lived mainly off takeaways paid for by
3) His stonking great allowance. He also had a credit card which she would pay off in full every month.
4) There were other things too; taking his laundry back to London, going with him to the GP because she didn't feel the doctor was taking him seriously, choosing which hairdresser he went to, etc etc...

Until one day in March sometime, I came home to discover the front door open, a police car outside and lots of shouting. Lots and lots. It seems that during a routine tidy and rummage round of his bedroom she'd found his stash; just over an eighth of weed and a couple of lines of coke. She'd rung the police and tried to demand an ambulance too, then tried to have him detained under the mental health act when - rather understandably - he had a massive go at her. When she started throwing things and screaming I scarpered and returned a few hours later. No sign of him. Weeks pass - still no sign of him. One day I come home to discover most of his stuff has gone. Then in June when I'm preparing to move out myself, I heard the door go and an unfamiliar male voice; he's back to clear out the rest of his stuff under Mummys watchful eye.
She'd locked him in his room 'for his own good' until he agreed to spend a couple of months in rehab. True, the guy was a dick but it really wasn't necessary. Needless to say, I never saw him again.
(berk, Fri 11 Sep 2009, 16:34, 4 replies)

Hubris
and all that...

The mother was a twat for fawning over her GROWN UP son and the son, well, he just sounds like a twat. Great post - clicks all round!
( SpankyHanky, Fri 11 Sep 2009, 16:37, closed)

And a great...
Result!
(TheProfessor For all your redbearded intellectual needs, Fri 11 Sep 2009, 23:42, closed)

OK, so maybe his mother was initially over-protective...
But he got what he deserved. Anyone who flushes their life away with drugs deserves to be deprived of certain freedoms until they sort themselves out.

Drugs are evil.
(EuroSong I love horse meat: best of all the animals, Sat 12 Sep 2009, 14:06, closed)

Charles Darwin dropped out of university three times and
never graduated (his doctorate was honorary - he had no actual academic qualifications). His father forbade him from going on HMS Beagle, but ended up funding the whole trip. Charles Darwin was in his mid-30s when he signed on with the Beagle.

Still, he eventually turned out okay.
(Seance Trumpet has got no beef with a man enjoying a croissant, Sun 13 Sep 2009, 21:04, closed)