Tube Talk 001: Young People and Rent

20/02/2023 - Oxford-ish.ing

Now I know as well as the next human that there's no tube system in Oxford, Oxford Circus doesn't count obviously, that's clearly named after somewhere else in the jumbled-up mess of London. Don't bother asking me where I have quite literally no idea as I have, from a very young age, absolutely no idea of where anything in London actually is, with the exception of a brilliant 24/7 bagel shop, at the north end of brick lane, just a two-minute walk from Shoreditch overground, the orange trains that go West to East. Apart from that one very limited piece of locational knowledge, I'm completely useless. Anyway, we're already getting off track, so we'll just move on now, shall we?

I know, I know, Oxford 'aint no Landan' (you're supposed to do that with a cockney twang in the London part by the way) but I was actually just reminiscing over a conversation two youngish humans were having on the green tube line that was taking me somewhere (again, please don't try to ask, as I genuinely have no idea which one it was or where it was taking me).

Their conversation started off just as normal as any other tube talk drivel, 'how's the family?, got any new things going on?... Oh nice, my brother went there on a holiday last year...' blah, blah and a bit more blah. I really didn't care at all, truth be told, it was just something to listen to after my earphones had died an honourable death after a six-hour audiobook binge.

But eventually, they did catch my attention with talk of rents and jobs and house prices and what not and it really got me thinking about some of the problems that we 'yongens' now face if we want to live in a bit a bigger and let's face it, a more interesting part of Britain.

They started talking about the rent situations they were in, one, human A, a woman with blonde hair, black doc martens and a puffer jacket that'd put P'diddy to shame, said that her current flatshare contract was coming to an end and wanted a renewal. In fact, all the people in the flat supposedly did so too, but the landlord - we can call them Mr Greedy if we really want - was asking for a rent increase of £200 each per month, and if they couldn't pay, then they'll be on their way. Trivial poetry aside, the idea seems preposterous and outright despicable for a flat of three in a postcode closer to Reading than London. Apparently, the landlord, needed to cover their overheads whatever they are these days, but an extra £600 per month for the sake of living in the same place? For the privilege of paying someone else's mortgage? It strikes me as a bit cheeky nowadays with everything that's going on.

The other, human B, a dark-haired and extraordinarily tall man who seemed more legs than anything else sympathised with the woman. He went on to talk of his own struggles of trying to get an agreement in principle for a mortgage, for a one-bed flat, for himself and his partner, I believe they're called Kaz but other than that I have no idea. The man went on to rant about how, even though, they both make a good salary in the big city, mid to high 30's by the sounds of things, and even with the little nest egg they've been making for the last 2 or so years, they can just about afford a 25-year mortgage for £230k just about enough for a flat most would call, 'sub-par' in most cases.

Looking at mortgage calculators won't them any happier either, as I then discovered after seeing how much I could borrow in the hypothetical scenario in which I'm actually capable of working up the courage to go in and ask the scary banks how much they'll give me for my soul. I find it hard to imagine what the other young people trying to get some sort of housing that they're not paying a stupidly absurd amount and their left kidney for. I was shocked to find that even in a hypothetical scenario of me actually making a good wage, I could happily afford a car parking space and absolutely nothing else.

It's no wonder that a large cohort of young people vehemently despise those with money when they can't even afford a shoebox to live in, and by the looks and sounds of things, and to crucify the chants of D:Ream 'things can only get worse'. It's a really shocking point in British history when no one can afford anything, and it feels like the ones who are in a position to do something about it won't do anything about it because they're too busy enjoying not having to worry about it, and the spoils of not doing anything about it.

Maybe, they'll try to do something about it, but only when it directly affects their ability to do nothing about it. Or maybe we're entering a new age of people never actually owning hoses anymore, similar to that of Germany or Belgium, where everyone rents and gets the landlord to fix all of the problems. But that probably won't happen in the UK now will it? After all, when has a landlord ever actually solved a problem by actually solving the problem?