To Own or not to Own?

Recently, as friends, enemies and casual well-wishers alike have began to penetrate our intimate conversations with problematic phrases like "It's only for 35 years", "Once I have the lodgers in place, it'll all be plain sailing" and "If I cut down on unnecessaries such as food, shower gel and a second pair of mocassins, I won't even feel the payments coming out of my bank account", my thoughts have naturally turned to the perilous topic of home ownership. It's all the rage nowadays, especially among, well, everyone. Trading up or trading down, this property craze has us all acting like clowns and it is PARALYZING mature conversations. Oh how I yearn for the days when all we talked about was the meaning of Smiths songs, and sartorial elegance was confined to wandering around your rustic, leaky bedsit in nowt but a moth-ridden bedrobe, simultaneously fashioning the remnants of your spartan food cupboard into something vaguely edible and looking for bits of hash on the unfortunately brown carpet. Now hoodies have been replaced by Woodies and "I got a good deal" refers to the porcelain tea set idling in the kitchen in preparation for a visit from Aunty Mabel.

So to buy or not to buy? Is it really worth all the hassle? The principle reason for pitching the wigwam is that people are sick of throwing dead money away every week, especially to a landlord that complacently refuses to fix the broken kitchen. But surely this dead money has its uses. Once you've paid your rent, your responsibility for the property and its infinite perils is spirited away. You don't need to worry about leaks, cracks, carpets, or cookers. It's all somebody else's problem. On the other hand, when the deeds reside in your bureau by the telephone in the porch, well, all is changed utterly. And as for dead money, a friend recently pointed out to me that it would be 21 years before his mortgage payments covered the price of the house and the interest owed to the bank in equal measure. Concomitantly, we realise once again that the banks are the biggest fuckers of all on this dizzying carousel.

So it's a path fraught with intrepid danger. And with significant cost, regardless of whether you continue to be buggered by your landlord or enslaved by this state's eminent financial institutions. I'll leave the last word(s) to my favourite wordsmith, the inimitable Dylan Moran.

"If you rent, you spoon feed your future to an insatiable landlord; if you buy, you spend all day rehearsing pleas to the bailiffs. You have to pay lawyers, life insurers, the council, service charges and the wandering minstrel house buyers triangle band. There's rent, street tax and all the money you need for Windowlene. It's all impossible, but you have to do it."