Monday, 15 June 2009

The immiseration of the rentenproletariat will hasten the revolution

There are two things you should know about me:

1. I have no intention of altering my domestic arrangements in the foreseeable future.
2. I have been perusing the real estate pages over dinner.

Please don't press me for explanations. It's a disgusting habit and I'm thoroughly ashamed of it. It's only a matter of time before I'm checking the uranium prices first thing after breakfast, jabbing off messages to my broker, and saying savage things to the cats when my derivatives go toxic. (I don't do that, rest assured - it's still the garden variety vice of real estate voyeurism for me.)

So my secret's out: I have been perusing the real estate pages over dinner, and lo!, I see that the erstwhile Hôtel Harlot is once more on the rental market - for $230 a week. Those of you who inhabit the cockroachial climes of inner Sydney will of course scoff at my $230 a week. It's barely more than the price of a crushed berry frappe overlooking the jelly blubbers of East Circular Quay. But $230 is some 43.75% more than the $160 per week that I paid for Hôtel Harlot when I first moved Melbournewards 28 months ago. By my calculations (bear in mind that I single-handedly solved Fermat's last theorem before you try to challenge me on this), that's an inflation rate of over 19% per annum.

We can partly attribute this to the fact that folks have only very recently realised that Thornbury is an infallible source of wholemeal spelt pasta. But it's more than that: the world is not a whole 43.75% more aware of the charms of wholemeal spelt pasta. In fact, wholemeal spelt pasta is not particularly charming. You can gussy it up with lots of garlic and olives and jolly sprigs of parsley, but it remains, regardless, righteous, wholesome and cardboardy. My alternative explanation for the 43.75% rent increase is this (bear in mind that I wrote Das Kapital AND The Wealth of Nations before you challenge me here): the filthy capitalist landlord class is putting one over the rentenproletariat. Given the parlous economic times in which we live, and the very amenable interest rates the filthy capitalist landlord class currently enjoys (not me, I signed up for a mortgage at the preposterous fixed rate of 8.75% p.a. [for five years (yes, I know)]), I have to say that the filthy capitalist landlord class is not very nice. Unless it uses its vast obscene wealth to set up shelters for penurious spelt addicts.


nailpolishblues said...

I love the real estate pages. So fascinating. I am, however, still sulking that some rich bastard bought my lovely little triangle house. How could they not know that it was made for me?

Alexis, Baron von Harlot said...

It's outrageous, the way having money trumps having a profound aesthetic soul when it comes to where you get to live. As someone wise once said, the reason anarchists drink herbal tea is that proper tea is theft.

emmy said...

and as for normala tea - madness!

thank christess for you lexi. x

JahTeh said...

Totally off topic to everyone else except the Florence Broadhurst fan.
There is a FB pop-up store, four days only 18th to 21st June. Shop 11, 71 Merchant Street, Victoria Harbour, Docklands, 10am-6pm.

Probably not inexpensive but a respite from the essay marking.

nailpolishblues said...

Alexis, I know - those bastards. I was meant to be rich but my family failed me. Lazy gits.

Jayne said...

I have aspirations on every large house on Brit tv shows, usually those that come with a complete set of servants and field mice to inhabit the attics.

Ohhh, I LOVE FB designs!!!
Shall be there!

Anonymous said...

Browsing the Real Estate pages happens to the best of us. It's akin to prodding a boil, but slightly less fascinating. In my old job it was one of the few webpages that wasn't blocked by the ominous 'contentkeeper' and so I spent many hours imagining what I could rent on an ideal wage. Rent, mind you. Clearly the qualifier for being a sydneysider if ever I saw one. "On my ideal wage, I would be able to rent this over-priced three bedroom terrace in the inner west and not able to put up my paintings, and deal with the terrible choices in feature walls. Mecca. You can all turn Inner West five times per day."

Maria said...


I was meant to be rich but my pay cheque failed me.

I could be so much richer if I had a different pay cheque. It really just isn't working hard enough to better itself in this world. Sad.