by Sean Gabb
I bumped into one of the main local estate agents this morning in Deal. We were in the same queue for postage stamps, and our conversation turned to the inevitable matter of house prices.
For the past ten days or so, his agency has been flooded with enquiries from South London. Last weekend was his busiest for viewings since Gordon Brown did his Sampson in the Temple of Dagon act. Because it’s about the nicest place on the Fast Link to London, he expects prices to rise ten per cent relative to the South East average – and by Christmas. We agreed that there would eventually be more riots in the inner cities, and that crime levels would rise to levels comparable to low-intensity civil war. Crime would be up, and insurance premiums, and there would be the general inconvenience of living on something like the slopes of Vesuvius. The only thing to fall, we further agreed, would be prices for those unable to see the writing on the wall.
Deal is already filling up with refugees from the Hell that used to be London, and I’ve been moaning for a year about how crowded the roads are getting. Well, the shock of the riots may turn a trickle into a flood.
So, thank you, friends of Mark Duggan. Because of you and, of course, the useless plod sent in to calm you down, my late Stuart former brothel and place where Nelson slept with Emma Hamilton may finally outstrip the value of somewhere three times bigger – with land – in what Mrs Gabb thinks an even nicer part of England.
And, for those of you who have been sneering at me all these years from what you thought the much more desirable Notting Hill or St John’s Wood, the main Deal estate agents are Messrs Bright and Bright. You can find them on the Internet, though they currently have nothing left to sell.
It’s an ill wind….