Dear Santa, please find me a flatmate…

It’s that time of year again. There’s a chill in the air, the red cups are back in Starbucks, and I spent yesterday drinking excessive amounts of mulled wine at a staff party. It can all only mean one thing – it’s almost time to head home for Christmas. Hoorah!

Now stop groaning all you killjoys. I have no time for Christmas-haters. What’s to be so upset about? The pretty lights in the street, the choir-singing, the festive films on the box? I can’t get enough of it. Plus, more exciting than anything else, I get to escape London and return to Scotland for a whole two weeks. And given the fact that I’ve been more homesick than ever over the last few months, and that I’m currently homeless – it couldn’t have come at a better time.

Yes, my evil flatmate and the scary dwarf lady have finally driven me out of my beloved little flat. After I dared to object to being woken up at 5am with screams of ‘You made me bleed’ reverberating around the flat, I was called rude, obnoxious, and patronising; and decided it was all too much to bear. Fortunately my lovely friend Liv has kindly offered me her futon to sleep on until I can arrange to get out of my lease.

Remarkably that issue is looking to be working out much better for me than I had expected. My landlady, who was previously cantankerous, cold-hearted, and brusque, has suddenly come over all charitable. Maybe it’s the spirit of Christmas. Anyway, what she has suggested is that I find someone to sign a new lease on the property with me…effectively meaning that the psycho twosome would have to go and I’d get to stay there with the person of my choosing. Amazing.

Trouble is the one and only person I actually would like to live with is still residing in Leith…and has as yet managed to resist my begging for her to move to London. Maybe we could start a campaign. GET CARINE OUT OF LEITH. Yes, that might work. I’ll arrange campaign posters, t-shirts, mugs and all sorts then we can sell them in Flux alongside the ‘I love Leith’ merchandise. There is a chance she could take it the wrong way of course. Then she might throw her handbag at my head like she did last time I pissed her off. Oops.

My alternative solution is to scour the ads online for my perfect housemate. It’s no mean feat, you know. I am effectively looking for someone with whom I can happily share my home – and who won’t turn out to exhibit any signs of hidden psychosis. They need to be clean (both in body and habits!), friendly, sociable but not too sociable, not obsessed with video games, considerate, non-smoking (or part-time drunken smoker only), and without a crazy partner who will move in and scare the living daylights out of me. You might think this wouldn’t be too hard to find but with the likes of these gems posted up there, I’m beginning to wonder if there’s anyone sane left in London:

‘32 year old vegetarian male looking for flatmate into tree-hugging and smoking pot.’
If you are a fellow earth-lover who believes meat is murder and fur is feral, you could be my future housemate. I’m looking for a comfortable room with space for all my beloved plants, no silly rules about posters on the walls, and a laid back approach to personal hygiene.

‘Transgender individual looking for sexually ambiguous/adventurous housemates.’
Do you like men, women, and everything in between? Do you like having fun? Do you want to explore your sexuality in a truly liberal household with no rules and an open-door policy in all rooms. I am looking to set up London’s first residential sex den. Come join the fun.

‘Flat needed for single 40-something man and pet gerbils.’Myself and my five gerbils – Trixy, Vixy, Minxy, Billy, and Bobby – are looking for a room in a friendly houseshare with a fellow rodent enthusiast. Cat-lovers need not apply.

I mean really, what chance do I have of finding my perfect flatmate amongst all of these? Are you out there somewhere roomie? All I want for Christmas…is you.