How come so many young people own fucking houses. I’m not talking about kids or teenagers, but people like me in their mid twenties. What business do they have owning property at that age! Fuck you.

The beauty of the IT industry bubble and my ability to talk a lot of shit about subjects I barely understand is that it didn’t take me long after dropping out of university to find myself in an above average salaried job for my age. Now I won’t go into exactly how much I was earning, but it was (and is) in my opinion a very good wage for a 23 year old, my age at that point (duh!). If you’ve been reading my blog even just briefly you should have a vague idea of the sort of full time bellend I am. So you can imagine my utter smugness when I learnt that I was earning more than the UK average at quite a young age.

At the time I was living in London and not being a complete retard I was aware purchasing property in the city of London doesn’t take a ‘good job’ it takes blood diamonds and an Arab oil barren on speed dial. I was content to rent a shitty flat and do the whole London grind scene (not to be mistaken with the London grime scene) squished nose to armpit on disgusting commuter trains to Canary Wharf 5 or 6 days a week.

I was utterly convinced that I would be able to move out of the city when the opportunity presented itself and snap up a nice 3 bedroom semi detached, I mean that’s what my dad did at my age… Apparently it doesn’t work like that anymore. Now I’m a guy that budgets every penny, i’m fairly stringent with my finances. Even so without any rich relatives how in the fuck am I supposed to save up for a deposit AND pay rent at the same time?

Since moving up to Leicester I have managed to scrimp and scrape together a measly £2000 in savings. Well I say measly, to me it’s a lot, it’s the most money outside of my current account I’ve ever managed to amass, but it’s a long stones throw away from a house deposit! This morning out of morbid curiosity I spent an hour or so flicking through property websites selling houses in the area. I swear if you gave a cardboard box a postcode it would go for £50k and be snapped up in a week. Some of the properties on sale in my area don’t look fit to be featured in a documentary named ‘The Aftermath of Chernobyl’.

In order to buy a house within commuting distance to my current office I have to somehow save upwards of £10,000. Just so I can get the shittiest available mortgages on a property that’s key selling point is it has a door. I still earn a solid wage for the area I live in, definitely above average. How the fuck does anyone without rich parents ever buy a house? Maybe you’re thinking ‘Well Farrell, you just need to stop spending so flippantly! Learn to budget you whiny bastard’. Well firstly, it’s weird that you address me by name when thinking about me like that, but secondly and more importantly, both myself and Rene work off a budget of £50 a month each for ‘things we want’… That could be computer games, clothes, copious amounts of cocaine (you’d be surprised what you can get for £50). You get the idea.

Even if I cut out all my additional spending and go all out budgetzilla, I’m still looking at roughly 5 years of being incredibly careful with my money before we can even think about purchasing a dirty terraced house with single glazed windows and a corpse in the corner… And that’s assuming the government’s ‘help to buy’ scheme’s are still in place.

Cutting out our spending would net us maybe an extra £1200 a year, so it would barely make a dent… I know I should be angry at the government, they have facilitated this buy to let economy by not investing enough in new builds and not doing enough to keep the price of renting down. Which in turn has resulted in a situation where after you’ve paid your rent you’re lucky if you can put a fiver into the piggy bank to plan for your future. I know I should be angry at them, and I am… But not as angry as I am whenever I see someone younger than me in a new car outside their detached 4 bedroom house with a well kept lawn and a trampoline out back. Is it for them, do they have kids? If they’re young enough that you can ask that question, fuck them!

Further Reading

I’m going to make it a habit to mention all of the weird shit I notice on the way to work and back, even if it doesn’t generate enough material for an entire blog post. Today for example I saw a man become impassionately enraged by a cyclist using the pavement (side walk). Now I think I’ve made my point very clear on how I feel about cyclist when I’m a pedestrian (See ReCycling if you care) but I have never felt anger about anything on the level of this man.

The guy seemed relatively normal, mid forties, school run, two children who I now have so much sympathy for. Literally all that happened was about 15 feet in front of where the man and his kids were walking, the cyclist came up off the road onto the pavement and continued to cycle (away from the man, not towards him). That was all it took, the man (here on in referred to as Mr Bald Rage) let go of his children’s hands and began an eloquent discourse with the cyclist from 20 foot away, it went a little something like this:

“THERE’S CYCLE PATHS FOR A REASON YOU FUCKING PRICK, GET OFF THE PAVEMENT!”

“Mate, wanna come over here and say that”... I’d like to clarify that the cyclist was a good 20 / 30 metres away at this point and given that he was half the size of Mr Bald Rage, I imagine he had planned to ensure that if Mr Bald Rage actually did ‘come over here and say that’ there would be plenty of escape time.

“IF MY KIDS WEREN’T WITH ME I’D FUCKING KNOCK YOU OUT RIGHT NOW YA COCKY PRICK. LEARN TO RIDE THAT BIKE PROPERLY, GET OFF THE FACKIN PAVEMENT YOU PRICK!”

Mr Bald Rage seems to like the word prick, personally I prefer the term phallus when engaging in a friendly dispute. This witty banter continued back and forth until I had walked out of earshot. It left me wondering if I had just been treated to an exquisite piece of street theatre, surely nobody is that angry or confrontational. If only deliveroo man from last night had been there (this is why it’s important to read blogs in the right order), dove of peace in one hand, friendship branch in the other. He would have resolved the issue in seconds… Or been punched off his bike by a furious middle aged father… Either one would have entertained me and given me enough content for a whole blog post.