A fine city, with some not-so-fine landlords. Student housing is often described as a rite of passage, an initiation–if you will–into the tumultuous world of adulthood, marked by leaky ceilings, white appliances, and quirky décor. As students, we often find ourselves navigating a maze of HMOs in search of the perfect balance between affordability and livability. However, the reality is often far from ideal, with tales ranging from outrageous conditions to comical eccentricity becoming the stuff of legend. We asked you for your best, and here they are (anonymised for the safety of students, landlords, and dodgy tradies).

Student One

Student one thought they’d hit the jackpot with their freshly renovated open-plan HMO. Little did they know, they were in for a landlord special. Imagine their horror when sewage water started seeping through the floor of an upstairs ensuite and onto the carpet inches from their bed. It’s a miracle that their hero landlord was on call to swiftly address the issue, immediately calling someone in to clean the carpet, replaster the ceiling, and fix the plumbing…

Just kidding, in fact, they didn’t manage to get round to the former tasks at all. As for the latter, the landlord did manage to eventually send round a plumber straight out of Only Fools and Horses. He spent more time sat on their sofa, smoking, munching a takeaway, dropping a racial slur or two, and boasting about how he was ripping off the landlord than he did plumbing. Best believe he also didn’t waste any time in announcing to them all that Universities were “useless nowadays” and bragging about how rich he was since starting his own firm (as expected, matey’s Companies House accounts told a different story). Luckily, he finished and left after a few hours, probably sparing the lads from a conversation that started with something like “You know what boys, that cabbie in Football Factory had his finger on the pulse didn’t he?” All in a day’s work, as they say.

Moral of the Story: When life gives you leaky, sewage-soaked ceilings, make sure your sofa is comfy enough for a professional lounger who moonlights as a plumber?

Student Two

Picture this: a group of eager second-year students, excitedly anticipating their move into a new house with first-year flatmates. They’ve seen the glossy estate agent photos, complete with promises of a spacious conservatory perfect for late-night study sessions and weekend hangouts. But as they arrive at their new abode, anticipation quickly turns to disbelief when they discover that the entire conservatory, the centrepiece of their dreams, is nowhere to be found. In its place? A sad patch of dead grass, mocking their shattered expectations.

As they stand in stunned silence, reality sinks in. The conservatory that once held so much promise has vanished into thin air, leaving behind nothing but disappointment and a sense of betrayal. What happened to the sunny retreat they had envisioned? Was it a figment of their imagination, a cruel trick played by the elusive forces of student housing?

Moral of the Story: For real this time, do not sign onto a house unless you’ve actually been round for a viewing.

Student Three

At this point, we’ve all moved into house that promises six bedrooms but delivers something closer to a game of planning-permission Tetris. This second-year student excitedly unpacked their precious belongings, only to realize that their room was actually more akin to a glorified closet than a liveable space.

Resigned to their PetsAtHome enclosure, the student accepted their fate. The Licensing and Management of Houses in Multiple Occupation Act 2007 had other plans, however. As they bid farewell to their housemates and embarked on their summer escapades after a year, little did they know that change was on the horizon. While they were away, their landlord, faced with the undeniable truth of this student’s postage stamp-sized room, was legally obligated to make it bigger. In a twist worthy of a Black Mirror plotline, this student returned from their summer escapades to find that their bedroom that had miraculously–and most hilariously, without explanation–been expanded by over a foot in one direction. The once-cramped confines of this reptile enclosure were now spacious enough to fit more than just a bed… They now had the potential to accommodate a bedside table as well. A true testament to the power of tenant rights and the absurdity of student landlords in all their glory. Yeah, it’s not quite queer eye, but it’s certainly better than nothing.

Moral of the Story: Justice prevails! If you think your landlord is taking liberties and utilising the Vernon Dudley approach to housing, find solace in the knowledge that change is possible, even if it requires a six-week holiday and a crumb of legal encouragement.