Horror Stories From Our First Shared Houses

For those who have now come out the other side, the first few years of living with people other than your parents are remembered not as seamless transitions into grown-up life, but as clunky (at best) attempts to emulate something distantly related to adulthood.
Those years were characterised by gross misinterpretations of what Mum used to make for dinner (pasta and gravy), barely any interior or environmental hygiene (not once replacing the hoover bag) and pushing our bodies to the limit with alcohol, drugs and sex.
This being 2017 in London with house prices at an all-time high, no doubt many of us are still living in said shared houses, but here's hoping – now that we're actual grown-ups – the worst of it is behind us. Now, at least, we have a recycling bin that's not a carrier bag.
Read on for the most horrifying stories about our first shared flats...

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