Some of the names in the following story have been changed to protect the innocent from the wrath and writs of the guilty.
Not such a long time ago (last Tuesday, actually) in a galaxy far far away, the CRAP accomadation bureau ruled many lands. And lo, they did rent these lands unto the students of the University that they may have a roof over their heads and annoy thy neighbours with loud music and endless parties.
By the way, this story is based entirely on fact, and I'm not apologising to anyone for it. So there.
Featuring a cast of several thousands, err, sorry, that should just be several:
The Four Intrepid Tenants (F.I.T.)
Nat the Metal-Fatuigued; Kat of the Many Giggles; Liz the Protector of Traffic Cones and Jo the Wielder of Sharp Instruments.
Brassy Women - Empress of CRAP, Chief bullshitter and wearer of offensively pink false nails.
The CRAP-ers - trogladytes and dedicated followers of Brassy Women who inhabit that haven of helpfulness and good workmanship, Castle CRAP.
The House - the battleground where the F.I.T. attempt to live.
and a few others: the Parents, faxers extrodinaire; Chris, the incredibly nice bloke at Southern Electric and some more I can't actually remember at the moment (well, what do you want? blood?)
The sun rose, bright and early over the fair city of Portsmouth. The birds sang and the teletubbies were nowhere to be found (thank god for small mercies). Today was the first day of the F.I.T's new lease... suspecting nothing, Jo made her way to Castle CRAP, large check in hand. Innocently (well, innocent for her) she made her way to The House. Fumbling with the millions of keys, she opened the door. Something was wrong. Very wrong. Staring at her and blocking her path, in a menacingly silent manner at the other end of the corridor were those two monsters of the Kitchen, the cooker and the fridge. Realising that there was no way past them, she turned and fled southwards back to Castle CRAP.
There, she managed to get an audience with Brassy Women, who promised her that she would dispatch two of her best trogladytes to deal with these rampaging kitchen appliances and return them to their lino-covered lair. Upon her return, the Wielder of Sharp Instruments found that Brassy Women's servants had indeed been and subdued the monsters, but had failed to chain them to their relevant supplies. The fridge was no problem, but the cooker, ah, now that was another problem entirely. For the cooker needed someone with a parchament from Lord CORGI allowing them to deal with these beasts, and Jo, skilled though she was at many things she did not have such a scroll.
By this time, Liz the Protector of Traffic Cones had arrived, her trusty supporters (okay, parents) in tow. The four of them slowly surveyed The House, and they saw that many things were not good, and the musty smell wasn't much to write home about, either. They decide to move some of Liz's stuff in, in an attempt to make the House seem more like a home (ugghh... what a crap line!), including one of the sacred traffic cones that was once displayed in the temple of St Harry of Law. It was around this time that Nat arrived, and she too saw much that troubled her about The House.
So the F.I.T. split up, to follow their quests... Liz to castle CRAP to demand an audience with Brassy Women; Nat to Tescos and other lands of plenty (and loyalty cards) from which they could stock the house and Jo to a nearby safe land from where she could reach the followers of the Saints of the Utillities.
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