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Now we're talking. That photo brings back powerful, pungent memories. I lived in that flavor of squalor for the winter of 2007, in a house of "DJs" (read: cunts). Guys who knew how to party but treated the house with a celebrated level of apathetic abandon, because putting, say, a beer can in a bin would ruin their delusion of living in pure, reckless hedonism. Thus grew a vile sea of pizza boxes, beer cans, fag ends, bottles, cans, kebab boxes. The smell hit you on the face when you opened the door. A family of mice flourished. I remember, in a vain attempt to get my security deposit back, a naive attempt at cleaning away the impossible - filling like twelve bin bags with detritus from just the living room. That effort reduced the greasy tide from shin-deep down to sub-ankle-deep with some thrilling glimpses of carpet, but in the end we all kissed that deposit good bye and the house was probably featured on A Life Of Grime with pro cleaners muffling "bloody students" through their haz-suits.
Photos are of after the party, before any cleaning up which is yet to take place. And yes that would be his reasoning as I understand it. However whatever mess left by the rest of us is minimal and as there's 6 of us in the house operating on different schedules and timetables etc it's normal that there's always going to be some sort of trace of life left behind. Were tidy people for the most part, his actions are extravagant and have blown shit out of the water