We hosted our own party once when we used to live at 38A Camberwell Church Street. Never again. Organising it was a pain in the arse, someone opened up the plaster on all of the walls with a stanley knife and carved USA and 'A' symbols everywhere, someone invited two girls in off the street who ran off with all the booze (which I couldn't be mad about, it was karma). The problem was, the place was on three-levels above an insurance shop and was really cramped, so there were people falling off balance down the stairs and suffocating in the kitchen. I seem to remember us (the inhabitants) losing it, one of us booting a door off its hinges and telling everyone to fuck off home because we wanted to go down some club in Brixton instead and couldn't leave them all there. Next day we looked at the walls and realised we either moved out straightaway or got killed by the landlord. I've never forgiven that idiot with the knife for that (he was actually not a bad person otherwise), we lost some really nice bedrooms for 30 quid a week which was good going back then.