Photo: Gumtree
What is living in London like? Hell. Here’s proof, beyond all doubt, that renting in London is a nightmare.
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I feel like if you sleep in this property, all of the dangling lightbulbs will flicker and sway as if pushed by some invisible cackling man in a blood-and-sweat stained vest, and you will hear the buzzing of flies but you won’t see any flies, and, occasionally, you’ll leave the house in the morning to find a small, thin, weak bouquet of supermarket posies, left there overnight by hands unknown. Locals will make the sign of the cross as they pass you in the dead grey streets of North Woolwich. Tradesmen will refuse to cross the threshold of your home unless you pay them half the quoted invoice upfront.Some days, you’ll come back and all the doors and windows will be open, but inside there is an eerie calm. Sometimes, when you chop red meat quietly in the kitchen, you’ll feel it: that close, purring feeling of a human being stood directly behind you, but then you turn – knife drawn – and there’s nothing there. You felt something, though, didn’t you? You felt something though, didn’t you.“Mum, can I come over?” you say, and she says back: “I live in Harrogate, you prat. It’s 10 PM and it takes the best part of three hours to get here. No you can’t.” And you say, not crying but tears in your eyes, you say, “Yeah I know but I have to. Can Dad pick me up from the station?” And she listens to the fear in your voice, that sharp strong trembling, and knows something primal is wrong, something that makes you – right now – need your mum more than you need anything or anybody else, and she melts a little inside. But: “No, he’s already got his comfies on. But I’ll give you £5 for the taxi,” and you say: fine.
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Then there’s the fact they haven’t bothered to take a photo of the bathroom, presumably because it’s still crusted with blood; the fact that the listing has been copy-pasted over from another listing (estate agents are so mentally useless that they cannot even write one paragraph about a property without durr-braining back to their previous work and plagiarising it) so it suggests that this one-room property is actually a “fantastic two-bed first floor flat”; the fact that the bedroom is exactly the same dimensions of a double bed and nothing else and is eerily illuminated by a red lightbulb, which is a totally normal thing to have in houses where the survivors made it out alive; the fact, again, that this costs one thousand three hundred pounds a month.I’m not saying “don’t rent the murder house in North Woolwich”. I’m actually saying, “don’t even enter the murder house in North Woolwich”. I feel bad for even showing you photos of the murder house in North Woolwich. I feel like I’ll get a staticky phone call from an unlisted Foxton’s number in a minute and then, exactly one week to the day later, be found dead.If that does happen, I’m just saying now: can one of you avenge me, please? Bury the bones of whatever troubled spirit that haunts this house, put a lid on the well they were kept captive in, and, for the good of the rest of the people in this city, board this property up and never let anyone go in it again. Cheers. Thank you.@joelgolby