Cleanliness and acting the fool.

Those who know me will say this: I'm not tidy.
I cant help it, its not in my nature to be a clean-freak, I'm too busy being silly. Even I have my limits though...
When at 26 Denbigh Street (the infamous bachelor pad I lived in at Uni) the issue wasnt so much to do with cleanliness as it was to do with basic hygiene: our kitchen work-tops were inhabited with enough bacteria to start up a bio-weaponry arsenal.
This wasn't helped by the fact that the toilet was through the kitchen, on some evenings the smell would waft in and combine itself with the pasta you were making. It provided its amusing moments however; a favourite game of ours would be 'shower sabotage', where the window would be left unlocked and a fire extinguisher hose could be sneaked in. It would be unfair if I didnt mention that this game was usually played whenever Olly had a shower, after a while we dispensed with the subtleties and just kicked the door in. Seeing a naked and screaming Olly as we sprayed him was disturbing, but worth it.
I suppose I'm mentioning this because as bad as that house was for hygiene, and occasionally sanity, I miss being able to do daft things like that. Or maybe I miss the opportunity to do daft things like that...its hard to tell.
I could try to replicate it on my Dad, if I didnt mind being maimed.