Property ladder

Seeing that the house next door but one had gone on the market, I had a look at the estate agent's website to see how much it was on for. Silly money, in all honesty, but there you go.

Of course, this got me looking at property websites to see what me and Trump could get for our money (well, hers, since I haven't got a house to sell). Looking at the descriptions of the houses and locations, and knowing the reality of a lot of the areas being described, it made me wonder whether estate agents are actually on drugs?

You look at the photos they take that are supposed to impress potential purchasers. One had taken a photo of wardrobe doors. For fuck's sake.

Let's have a look at some examples of things that estate agents think are huge selling points for properties:

To the exterior, there is some well-appointed and very stylish grass:

On the ground floor, the kitchen-diner has a bin and space on the worktop for a nearly-used kitchen roll:

In the main bedroom, the lingering funk of TCP takes us back in time and into a parallel universe:

Also on the first floor is a retro bathroom suite that is especially designed to hide blood splatters:

I also like having a nosey inside people's houses - some are fucking horrible and you can tell that a lot of those at the lower end of the price range are a bit scummy. You get the idea that there are lots of people with their own distinctive decorative tastes, or lack of it.

Imagine if you could smell the places too.

Blimey.


Rotten
I've spent most of today feeling fucking dreadful with one of my heads. It started yesterday afternoon and stayed with me through the night and into the morning, making me feel sickly and shaky, light-headed and all that. I've had these before quite a lot, on and off, for about a year now.

I think it's my hormones.

Anyway, once I started to feel better, I put the telly on. Punctuated by the usual insurance and easier-living products to make old age better, the programmes on offer are pretty good. One of my current favourites on Living TV is "Cheaters", whereby a so-called detective agency pursues and films adulterous partners after being prompted by their suspicious other halves. True car-crash TV.

I can't believe Great Ormond Street Hospital have a charity that advertises on national telly. Not that the Peter Pan money is enough or anything.