Imagine a student house.

Imagine, just for a minute, that it contains six boys and a girl.

Now imagine those stereotypical elements of the student house: the blandness of the decor, the slightly murky atmosphere, the never ending piles of washing up, the Bruce Lee poster, because he was, like, the man, and the obsession with being fourteen again that leads to the house having about a dozen consoles.

Imagine the students returning from a night out. Perhaps one or two have had a little bit too much to drink, and are being loud enough to wake up the sleeping members of the house.

Imagine one of those sleeping students is a slightly psychotic boy who has taken one too many big nose jokes in his time.

Now imagine he gets out of bed, opens the door, and is greeted by an affectionate drunken "Hey, Bergerac". Now imagine he pulls his other arm out from behind the door, revealing the roaring chainsaw that he has been concealing and has somehow gone unnoticed up until this point. With one swing of the chainsaw he lops the arm off the cocky bastard who dared to criticise his unsightly appendage, even in jest. Imagine this said cocky bastard screaming at the bloody stump that is the remains of his arm. Imagine the chainsaw ripping once more through the boy's body, this time in the chest, causing blood to spurt out of his mouth in a gratuitously violent fashion. Imagine the boy dropping to the floor with his expressionless dead face.

Imagine the nice pacifist boy coming out of the room next door to see what all the noise is about, only to be greeted with a shotgun blow to the face, rending him unrecognisable to his own mother, and killing him instantly.

Imagine the loud one in the house, perhaps from the north east, screaming louder than he ever has before due to the dead dog that is being surgically sown into his stomach.

Imagine the poor, mild mannered ginger haired boy who has the misfortune of being choke slammed onto a pole, vertically.

And now imagine the quiet one from the top floor being put through a tragically misplaced paper shredder.

The girl in the house is not home yet, but imagine her finding, upon her arrival, the bloody corpses of her housemates being masturbated over by the nude psychopath.

And then stop imagining, because if you are, then you're a sick fuck.

To return to a more healthy place, click here. Or die....