Londoner's spare room is a pied-à-terre in the capital for every prick she knows

A WOMAN living in London is having to put up with all her friends and family using her spare room as their own apartment whenever they visit the city.

Clapham resident Charlotte Phelps is paying upwards of two grand a month to rent a flat that is already cramped enough without people dropping in every weekend to use it as a free hotel.

She said: “They’re usually outraged when they learn how much I’m forking out for this shoebox, yet mysteriously stop complaining every time they feel like popping over to watch Jersey Boys.

“I could tolerate it if they were well-behaved, but once those country mice get within Zone 3 they act like they’re on a Club 18-30 holiday. I don’t want to have to host my teenage cousin and some rugby-shirted dickhead she met in Sloane Square. The walls aren’t thick enough.

“Then there are all the creepy guys from back home who are only using my sofa bed as an excuse to get into my flat. I have to fob them off with lame excuses like ‘the landlord won’t allow it’ and ‘London now charges visitors a £100-a-night sleepover tax.'”

University friend Kelly Howard said: “I only stay with Charlotte to distract her from the crushing loneliness of urban life. Plus it’s handy to have a hub for doing cultural activities like visiting M&M’s World.”

Sign up now to get
The Daily Mash
free Headlines email – every weekday

Which one-hit Britpop wonder were you far too into?

THEY released a solitary half-decent song, so why the f**k did you worship these Britpop chancers? It’s unlikely you’ll be attending their tragic reunion tours to find out…


Everyone loves a tune where you can ‘do the actions’, and Place Your Hands is right up there with Agadoo and The Birdie Song. Was that really a good enough reason to grow your hair long and model yourself on a singer who sounded like your uncle doing a bad Jagger impression? You still love Reef’s only listenable song, mainly because it allows you to perform your signature dance move of standing still while waving your hands around like a twat.

Ocean Colour Scene

A band so crushingly mediocre that the highlight of their career was supporting Oasis. Sure, The Day We Caught the Train was nice, but so is mild cheddar. Thanks to these retro tossers, you actually thought that wearing a bucket hat and mastering some rudimentary blues riffs would get you laid. Despite their classic rock posturing, the only thing Ocean Colour Scene turned up to eleven was the colour beige.


You had posters of Louise Wener on your walls. You devoured Louise Wener interviews in the NME. You knew all Louise Wener’s ill-thought-out opinions. You had powerful, sordid dreams about Louise Wener. Oh, and Sleeper had a song called Inbetweener which you sometimes listened to.


Embrace ticked all the Britpop boxes: argumentative brothers, misplaced confidence, utterly forgettable music. You were convinced that All You Good Good People pissed all over anything on The Verve’s Urban Hymns, which is why you spent every school lunchtime alone in the IT room. Of course, you can look back and laugh at yourself now that you’ve discovered proper music like Coldplay.

The Bluetones

Ah, you loved The Bluetones. You saw them live and it was really… loud. You bought a t-shirt which you wore constantly for six months. What was that song of theirs? You know, ‘Ba ba ba ba ba ba ba ba ba’. What was it called now? Slight Return? Bit of a shit title. And isn’t it copied off Hendrix, only he thought of a proper title as well for Voodoo Chile?

Shed Seven

No one is disputing that Going for Gold is a bona fide totally average song. Sadly, like most sheds, everything else the Seventh Shed had to offer needed to be thrown in a skip. When they toured in 2017 you managed to buy tickets within seconds of them going on sale. Gosh, you must have been incredibly lucky to be first in the queue.