I was sitting at home the other day, wasting my life watching the somewhat alluring Sarah Beeny talk total shite to an outrageously upper middle class couple with far too much money on their hands. I speak of course, of her money worshiping show Property Ladder. The title says it all. Climb, go on climb, never stop trying to get to the top of some mystical property hierarchy that suppresses and restricts your every dream in your pathetic little existence you poverty stricken scum.
This week, two equally-as-unusual-and-not-in-the-good-way individuals were transforming their one bed flat in Edmonton to a 12 floor Spanish villa or something. In all honesty, I can’t remember but all you need to know is that a lot of building work was going on. All the while, Beeny would sporadically pop up, tell the hapless couple that everything they’re doing is frankly wank and they may as well give up now because she’s only going to come back and rub it in their expressionless faces if they don’t.
Sure enough, one house makeover later and in comes the Beeny to point out every minor detail and proclaim “what muppet did this?” in a cockney accent whilst walking around the house like Danny Dyer and shouting “Alright Dave” to every remaining workman on site. Well something like that anyway. Nonetheless, she did make a point of berating the zombie like pair on the amount of money they’d spent on the house. “You’re never gonna make your money back” she said smugly, “have you seen my internet dating site?”. She goes on to explain that they’ve managed to up the value of the house significantly but are likely to lose up to £20,000 if the market goes the way of the pare. “Your fucking fucked sunshine” she said, whilst doing the Lambeth walk with a small fez wearing, cymbal-banging money on her shoulder (sorry, I’ll stop now).
The whole voyeuristic affair seemed a little pointless to me. Here are two people with more money than enthusiasm spending their hard earned cash on their home, enjoying the fruits of their labour. Then in comes a perm-pregnant portly bint to tell them that they’ve fucked everything up, can’t dress and are basically a waste of space ‘cos they might lose the cash further down the line. Surely she’s missing the point? At least I am. I thought we earned money to enjoy it, not to chase more money. “Invest” we’re told. Got loads of money? Then for God’s sake put it away somewhere you can’t touch so it makes more money. Then what? Blow it all on living your dreams? Sod that, invest some more! Have you seen the rate of interest you can get on a long term savings account? No? What are you some kind of cunt?
This is a typical example of the money (and work but that’s mentioned in another post) fetish society has entrenched in it. What’s Beeny want us to do? Climb the ladder until we all live in chateaus with four pools and a servants’ quarters? Even then she’d make us convert it into flats to maximise it’s profit in today’s crowded housing market don’t you know. It’s not money that makes a person happy… it’s everything else in life. Money is the collective cogs of the happiness machine, not the product… well it is unless I’ve missed something fundamental. Bloody Beeny.