Come live with me! SERIOUSLY!

Housemate wanted to share cosy three-bedroom apartment by Southwark station, on London’s Southbank, with two (caring, care-free, impossibly shiny haired) late twentysomethings.

We’re a Gemini vegetarian writer and a Sagittarian celiac barrister, both of whom believe that a house is a home. 



You’re probably a water sign: intuitive, imaginative and nurturing. You’ll have your own life, because lord knows we ain’t nobody’s babysitter, but you’ll also know how to integrate that life into two others to make a handpicked and dysfunctional London family so that nobody has to use post-it notes to communicate because yay for open and honest dialogue about who used the last of the milk! Kisses!

Potential housemate should probably be down with a mostly quinoa and plant-based diet, though one of us eats steak like it’s a chocolate-covered snack i.e. all the time. If you’re lactose intolerant so much so the better, since we’d both like to reduce our dairy intake because urm, cow hormones much? Also you’re most likely a baker, who understands the merits of a great cream cheese frosting, because sometimes the no-diary thing just isn’t worth it when a homemade carrot cake tastes this good. I’ll load the dishwasher. Thanks for the generous portion.

We’re looking for a well-adjusted human being who understands that TV is a company killer, and so won’t expect one in the living room, and that dinner is a meal best served en masse so if we’ve got friends over or you’ve got friends over it doesn’t matter because yes. Yes, I would like some of that delicious-looking lasagna and here, why don’t we have it with my warm salad?

See how nice that is? Being all together and shit. Lovely. But also listen, I’m having my imaginary boyfriend over for supper tomorrow night so is there any way you could not be here? I’ll disappear for you next Friday. Thanks!

You probably own a coffee table and lots of rugs, because we’re a bit short on those and Free Cycle isn’t really delivering, and you read a lot because people who don’t read are dull.

Sundays were designed for newspaper supplements and pancakes, no?

The house is right by the Old Vic, and we both get to the theatre a couple of times a month, so if you work for AGM Tickets or maybe once blew a guy who does, let’s do this because HELLLLL those seats are expensive.

If all of this sounds appealing, understand that the application process will be in two parts, written and practical.

The written submission should address the following questions:

- in what way do you theorise that planetary alignment affects shared living dynamic? (hint: you should understand that when mercury is in retrograde it’s important to make the effort to be extra nice, and know that a new moon will be obligatory “flat purge” night)

- which is worse, crumbs left on the sideboard or an overflowing bin that nobody will empty because obviously it’s not their fault?

(hint: both are as loathsome as the other, just fucking deal with it)

- in a game of snog, marry, avoid, how would you choose between literary leading men Atticus Finch, Frank Wheeler, and Henry DeTamble?

(hint: it’s possible that one us chose our eyewear based on Gregory Peck’s attire as the thoughtful lawyer with a broken heart)

- how much sparkle is too much sparkle? Both literal and metaphorical.

The practical element of the interview process is designed to ensure that you can, to a reasonable standard:

• clean a toilet


• load a dishwasher


• take out the trash


• de-hair the shower plughole


•  prepare a signature cocktail in times of celebration/Fridays/crisis.

If a whole portion of crazy is okay with you, and you don’t mind peeing in front of somebody who happens to be taking a three-hour bath, we’d love to have you in our home. You should come over and see the place, which is all boho chic and lamps and canvas paintings and shit, but also lovely. We like it.

Oh! And your room will be tiny, but all you’ll be doing in there is sleeping and so what does that matter? You can see the London eye from the living room, and hear Big Ben chime midnight from the kitchen. And there’s a garden. And the neighbours are lovely- they feed you cookies when you’ve locked yourself out of the house. Again. Also there’s a strong possibility one of us would like to get a dog, but maybe that the other one of us thinks that to do so would be irresponsible, and so if you have an opinion on that so that the stalemate is broken? BRILLIANT.

You might, possibly, maybe, have wrongfully taken this post as a joke. It's not. I really do need a housemate.

Know somebody who is looking? Talk to me! 

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