Chapter 17
As pleased as I am to have my next target, it has somewhat dampened my plans.
Where before I thought I had two days of decision-making ahead of me, now I have nothing.
The intense research and plotting to do for Pete is best left to working hours, using an IP address and device that is not my own.
A new pit has been excavated; there’s fresh emptiness to fill.
After trying to bank as many sexy shots of my feet for Dave as possible – in the shower, with a pair of pants pooled around them as if caught in the act of removing them, the soles glistening with baby oil – I’m left with nothing better to do than continue watching Fixer Uppers Go Under the Hammer.
Each arsehole who buys a property and lives further south than Durham should count their lucky stars they’re being spared my wrath due to the prohibitive cost of travel to their location.
It turns out to be a helpful exercise in examining the thinking behind my crusade.
What it reveals might surprise you, but it turns out, if given the chance, I would punish each and every one of them.
From the woman who bought her son a flat to stay in for uni, in turn making her eighteen-year-old a live-in landlord to other eighteen-year-olds, to the two brothers who used the same cheap carpet throughout, I truly believe they have all committed murder-able offences.
I will admit, though, that other people may think these are minor infringements, which leads me to decide that the rules of the game need to be better defined.
In a fresh page of my notebook, I write on the top line: RULES.
The Fixer Uppers jazzy theme tune starts, and I mute the television, giving myself silence to consider who really – out of a collection of exceptionally terrible people – deserves to have their comeuppance.
I stare out the window, watch the branches of the trees shoogle in the wind, until the golden rules for this endeavour come to me.
Their actions must show a disregard for making the home they have bought a nice place to live. Things like, but not limited to: aesthetics chosen for cheapness over all else; communal space being removed from shared housing; rooms divided to be smaller and cramped to squeeze out more profit.
They prioritise their own wealth over everything else.
This includes: owning more than three properties, thereby displaying a clear pattern of behaviour – limiting housing stock available to people who actually want to live in houses rather than let them out; asking for rent higher than the market dictates; when Malcolm asks them about the place they’ve bought, if they talk about financials more than about providing good housing; and if they mention a property empire.
No women are victimised. In a world where we often already suffer for our gender, women landlords are trying to find their power in a misogynistic capitalist system. This is the wrong way to go about things, but my sense of sisterhood means I will not punish them further.
Any landlord will have to be found guilty on rule one or rule two and not break rule three. Unluckily for Pete, he’s guilty on all three counts.