Our last flat was the ground floor of a terraced house that had been converted into two flats, one above, one below. Sadly for us our upstairs neighbours, who we were assured by the landlord were a lovely retired couple turned out to be a derelict alcoholic trainwreck and a shrill, foul mouthed fish-wife with a vocabulary that'd make Roy Chubby Brown blush. The usual pattern for them would be that the bloke would drink himself into a stupor, then the fish-wife would spend the next several hours screaming the most foul-mouthed abuse I'd ever heard at him, with the odd demand that he "GERRRROUT!" thrown in for good measure. He only seemed to have one response in that state, which was to suggest in a roundabout way that she should go forth and multiply.
Just to keep things interesting, when they weren't at each other's throats they also had an odd habit of getting up at 4-5am and doing what I can only assume was rearranging the furniture, which was loud enough to almost shake the pictures off the walls in my room. They also threw the odd party in as well, one starting at around 7pm one evening and was still going on the following morning when we left for college at 8:30am.
During this time we confronted them on several occassions, we remained polite and they were always apologetic, but would soon lapse back into old habits. It used to become depressingly familiar site to walk through the churchyard on the way back to the flat from college and find a load of empty Carlsberg Special Brew cans scattered around the benches, that's when we knew he'd gotten slaughtered again, and at some point tonight it was going to be like the thunderdome up in there.
Luckily though we've got another flat arranged for the new term which starts in a few weeks, hopefully we won't have a repeat.
