Silvermane: Wait a second...you live here?
Shocker: Yeah, so?
Silvermane: Hell, I though you just killed whoever owned it and stowed away in this place were nobody'd find ya. Damn, what a dump...
Shocker: [hurt] It's rent-controlled...
Shocker: Yeah, so?
Silvermane: Hell, I though you just killed whoever owned it and stowed away in this place were nobody'd find ya. Damn, what a dump...
Shocker: [hurt] It's rent-controlled...
Lin remembered coming home to a house that swarmed with male khepri, that stank of rotting vegetables and fruit, littered as it was with organic rubbish for males to gorge on. She remembered being commanded to wash her innumerable brothers' glistening carapaces, to pile up their dung before the household altar, to let them scuttle over her and explore her body as their dumb curiosity directed them.
He took out his carrying pint, found it empty, and dug another bottle from his dresser's sock drawer. He took a long pull of Early Times as he looked around the silvery, trashy box of a room, thinking he'd have to come up with the rent or his landlady would be in here again bitching about what he'd done to her property. Every inch of the walls was covered with aluminum foil, double thickness; the moldering, yellowed stacks of newspapers and magazines teetered at four and five feet high; the furniture was covered in crosses and mystical symbols he'd scrivened himself with a Magic Marker.
— Constantine: The Novelization
These amateur repair jobs were an almost daily irritation. Victory Mansions were old flats, built in 1930 or thereabouts, and were falling to pieces. The plaster flaked constantly from ceilings and walls, the pipes burst in every hard frost, the roof leaked whenever there was snow, the heating system was usually running at half steam when it was not closed down altogether from motives of economy. Repairs, except what you could do for yourself, had to be sanctioned by remote committees which were liable to hold up even the mending of a window-pane for two years.
"It just so happens there is a modest shack overlooking the canal. It's not much to look at, but the smell will soon distract you from how ugly it is."
— Count Regulus Terentius on buying a house in his city, The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Don Salluste: What a dump! How can anyone live in such a pigsty?
Blaze: This is where Monseñor houses his servants.
Salluste: Very nice place you've got here.
Blaze: This is where Monseñor houses his servants.
Salluste: Very nice place you've got here.
Psst! Hey! Guy who sent me this: clean up your living room! I have admittedly low standards and even I wouldn't set foot in there!
—Strong Bad, Homestar Runner
Please don't tell anyone how I live.
—Lenny, The Simpsons, after the front wall of his house falls down and reveals him sitting alone in a bare room with a tin of beans
The share-house was a big old Queenslander on top of a hill, stubbornly refusing to crumble to the ground despite the neglect of its inhabitants. The paint was chipped, the back steps wobbled dangerously, rats as big as possums inhabited the space between the downstairs ceiling and upstairs floor, and it was possible the landlord had forgotten the place existed, for a property inspection would condemn them all to hang.
Our fungus grew from the bathroom ceiling. It was a horrid green color, very slimy and nasty. Every night we cut it down with Eileen's manicure scissors, and every morning it was long enough to braid. Eileen thought there was something shameful about the fungus, and she always carefully cut it down before we had a party. If the party lasted until after midnight, the last of the guests would be sure to spot a greenish haze on the ceiling.
— Ruth McKenney, My Sister Eileen, "Mr. Spitzer and the Fungus''
"Bit of a dump, isn't it, dad?"
— Richard Robinson, No Kidding
