Thems upstairs

The elephants are still at it. They're all about ten, and stand there looking sullen and slouchy every time we ask them to keep it down. Several times in the last couple of weeks, I feel I've known what it's like to be the parent of teenage kids.
Actually, while they are noisy, and sometimes excessively so, they don't bother me too much. I can tune them out after a while, for the most part. The flatmate, however, cannot. Every bump and scuffle, every bass thud, every giggle that comes through our ceiling drives her closer to apoplexy. They've reduced her to tears twice in the last week, that I know of. The council have been brought in, letters have been written. The eviction campaign is well underway.
But, and this is the thing I feel bad about, I find it really difficult to go home now, because I know that she will be upset by it, and that our evening will be spent wincing every time they galumph across the floor, and I will be waiting for her to explode and call the police. Its like living with a time-bomb. And I hate seeing her upset, so I join in and bang on the door, and shout, and beg them to keep the playstation volume on low so we can't hear them blasting things to bits, but it kind of destroys my evening too.
What is to be done?