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Hey first years, how you doing? I hope you’re really enjoying your hall of residence. And geez, I bet you are really really excited about going flatting next year. I fondly remember my first flatting experience: the politics of trying to get a group of friends together to head out flat hunting, and then actually having to find a flat. Perhaps you’ll go for Castle or Hyde if you want to be in the thick of the action. Or you could go for the more gentle air of the hillside streets. Wherever you’re looking, you will endlessly piss off second, third and fourth years as you continually knock on doors asking to have a look around right in the middle of Shortland Street/CGW.

Once you’re finally flatting there are a few things that will be truly memorable parts of your flatting experience. You’ll probably end up shagging a flatmate at some point. This will go one of two ways: you will either never speak again, destined to awkwardly avoid each other in the lounge and hallway, or you’ll have a guaranteed source of emotion-free sex for the rest of semester. The latter is highly unlikely. I’ve managed to sleep with flatmates in all but my current flat, and to be honest it never really worked out that well. But shit, at least I got to have sex.

And of course there are Red Cards, which have to be one of the greatest parts of flatting: demanding that your flatmates join you in some ridiculous, usually alcohol-based activity at the time and place of your choosing, dress up as you wish, and perform any challenge that you desire. Red Cards are the authentic Scarfie team building activity.

And you will, undoubtedly, get unbelievably pissed off at one of your flatmates at some point. Whether it’s a minor infraction like stealing your last Toffee Pop or something more serious, like leaving the heat pump running full steam over the mid-year break, you will really want to get them back. I suggest having sex in their bed while they’re away at law camp.

But usually, in the end the petty nature of their crimes will become obvious and you’ll let them back into the fold. Or more likely, you’ll do something far worse and be forced to forgive them. By the end of second year I was hardly on speaking terms with one of my flatmates. Yet by the end of fourth year we were best friends, even though I once “borrowed” (read: stole) some money off him. And an indeterminate number of years later, even though we’re in different countries, we’re still good mates.

Good luck. Fuck you’re going to have fun.