“What the heck is that, Jim?”

On a night as cold as this you couldn’t blame anyone for not wanting to be outside - it was barely any warmer indoors, to be honest.  SQUEEK. It was probably this thought alone which had set Jim on edge. A shallow concern had quickly boiled into a raging paranoia within a matter of minutes. SQUEEK, SQUEEK.

He had to investigate to set his mind at ease - he was never going to get any sleep at this rate. From his nice, warm bed, he slowly opened his eyes and carefully climbed out. Instantly the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. SQUEEK-SQUEEK-SQUEEK. To this day he swears blind that it was the cold, and not fear, that caused this.

I slowly edged to the corner of my room, carefully avoiding the creaky floorboard. I didn’t want to bring attention to myself - I’ve seen what happens to them in films and let’s be honest, it doesn’t usually end well.  SQUEEEEK. I raided my wardrobe and picked out the first big, heavy thing I could find. It was the trophy I had won for the “Air Guitar Championships 1998″ at Butlins with my housemates’ family. It would’ve been a lot heavier if I had actually won the competition, but 3rd place is still pretty good, right?

I took a deep breath, opened my door and inspected the hallway; it looked all clear. My breathing got heavier and I felt sick with nerves - it then hit me: What would I do if I actually found someone in my house? Lightly stepping down the hallway into the front room, I carefully peaked around the door like I was James Bond or a tiger stalking its prey. I couldn’t believe what I had seen - stunned, I took a second look to be sure.

It was Keith, my housemate and Air Guitar Champion of Butlins Minehead 1998, absolutely rutting the backside off of Mrs Polovski, our 64 year old landlady. And I don’t just mean giving her one, I mean a total, heroic, nailing. My fear quickly turned to uncontrollable hysterics, which was about the same time I got caught. It was difficult to be quiet when you’re crying with laughter into your hands in a pathetic attempt to muffle the guffaws. I’m not sure what’s worse - actually being caught doing an old lady, or being caught watching a granny taking it. I hadn’t seen anything like it before, not even in Amsterdam.

I quickly retreated back to my warm bed, weirdly thinking about how much of a bastard Keith was for scoring, but couldn’t help but wonder if he was getting free rent because of this.