Prisoners live in better quality than Irish tenants.
So fucking glad I got out of that fucking kip of a country; besides, even if you can afford to toss out €1500 a month on rent, the view out to the streets of Tallaght isn't exactly going to inspire you. Rather it's somewhat a suicidal looking space to inhabit. Imagine the rumble from the upstairs tenant? You could hear the fuckers fart, snore, hear every word of every row. Know when they're fucking, cooking, hoovering, or contemplating suicide.
That second shot of the kitchen? An absolute waste of space. Nordic themed design would utilize every square inch of that enclosure and make it a work of art. Irish style landlords? They don't give a fuck if you're black, white, yellow, alien, greasy, rich, on drugs, or senile - so long as they get their money. When the landlords of the nation deliberately drive down the quality and standard of available options (if there's any at all) then the tenant quotient will suffer. They're above the law, these cunts.
One of my addresses in Dublin for around four years during the 90s along the Beggar's Bush area off Haddington Road was at this lovely little spot (it's not number 3 - it's a 'named' house) which was in fact two cottages adjoining each other and a wall was taken out to connect them. The owner who bought it as an investment offered it to me to live in while I was scouting for a new address. he needed someone to live in it and I paid $15.00 per month for it. He covered the electricity and gas and I had the whole thing to myself. My bedroom was the little window on the upper floor to the left (the window went from the floor up to the angled ceiling). The kitchen and lounge took up the ground floor. A second bedroom opposite mine was piled high in music gear, flight cases, etc. He used it as an office sometimes, very rarely though. I used it for practice.
There were four open fires including one in my bedroom. A bathroom out back and a kitchen beside that. No neighbours at the time, the houses/mews nearby weren't there. A small garage run by the Irish mechanics who work on classic Triumph sports cars had a place thirty meters up the lane. That was it. I could make all the noise I wanted, throw big parties, dance or eat outside in summertime, and for a while I had two tables and chairs outside for passers by who might also ask for a coffee. So I kept the coffee machine on during summer days.
Fifteen Irish pounds a week.
For this:
The owner was a gas. He was my manager/agent at the time, so the deal was perfect for both of us. He lived elsewhere with his lady nearby his daily business (a rock and roll laundry shop called Soapy Joe's in Rathmines) and dropped by once in a while to collect or drop off things. No number on the door. I had my mail directed to my Mam's house instead. It's since been bought and done up to an amazing standard. One Irish paper featured it in the property supplement a few years back and the interior was stunning. Still the same red front door I had to bend down to pass through. Two downward steps onto the main floor. A spiral staircase and a windowed hallway that gave so much light. The walls are around twenty inches thick (the inside ledges beneath the windows were at least that width) and the two cottages were built around 1920/25.
It sold for stupid money, but not during the Celtic Tiger: the buyer sold it only five years back.
Of course finding gems like that anywhere in Dublin are extremely rare these days.
It'd be a hell of a lot pricier than the paltry few quid I paid for it.
Excellent post. It isn't really surprising when you consider the percentage of Dail TDs + local councillors who are landlords. Like any good gombeen they look after their own.
FactFind: How many current TDs own houses that they rent out?
Some TDs who had residential tenants let did not declare the rental income
www.thejournal.ie
I also find something Orwellian about the PEACE LOVE HAPPINESS picture above the boarded-up fireplace. A €5 piece thrown up on the wall which is perhaps supposed to make paying €18,000 a year more bearable? These peace-loving landlords would turf you out on the street in the middle of winter if you're so much as a hundred euro behind on the rent.
