Community: Real Life

Landlord bastards

Justin Bennett (aka Justin Credible) is a 19-year-old IT Systems Support Technician who recently immigrated over to Auckland, New Zealand. He's a part-time DJ with radio experience that he wishes to do full-time abroad.

Getting a flat when you're single, male and under 21 is hard enough...losing a flat is a breeze. Justin Credible has had enough of British landlords, he's upped and left to NZ, but he still has his story to tell, and boy, he's gonna tell it.

Welcome to my world, just before moving to my current, now temporary, residence I was on the verge of hostel life. I'd come out of the army after 18 months and within two months me and my parents had fallen out.

Flat life then - it has been decided. The sensible thing would be to move in with friends, shame all mine are so far in debt they couldn't afford it - damn! So off I went looking at flats, it took me several weeks to find someone that would trust me. I got some rules, such as music (only between the hours of 10am and 10pm) and I moved in.

Four months passed, no complaints, this was strange but then I got the phonecall. Instantly things changed, for a few weeks, then it was back to my version of normal.

My circle of friends changed slightly while my flat turned into a potheads dream, I was getting stoned pretty much six nights a week. Top that with your weekly five-nine pill session each night when clubbing and your health will suffer. I tried to draft some rules to sort things out and got my mates to sign them, things like "no sex in my bed unless it involves me" or "sex is not permitted in the shower, not enough room, we've tried." You may laugh, but these are my friends and I'd already lost a toilet seat to their sexual adventures.

The six-month point was soon upon me, my lease was due for renewal and I had a gut feeling things were going to go wrong. Another phone call: "Justin, it's not working, I want you out."

I phoned my grandparents: "help!" Their advice was "go to NZ" and, after a weekend of thought, I agreed. You can always come back can't you? So I got my Christmas flights brought forward to the end of September.

Another phonecall, followed by another in the space of three days... "I want you out, before the two month period please." Could things get any worse? Of Course!! My temporary flatmate and me decided to go into town, she put my keys on her wallet and off we went, it's almost predictable what happened next, they went missing. I got home and tried for several hours to pick my locks (getting in downstairs worked) and after eight hours of being locked out with no landlord in sight, I kicked my door in.

He arrived over two hours later and went mental, I explained what had happened and he just told me he wanted me gone as soon as possible. So I stopped all parties to try and stop the complaints and give me time to blitz the place and vent the air.

It took him over a week to sort the door out, the cost is still mounting but it's going to be about 170 quid, money I needed for my deposit for NZ, not the best of days.

Since then things have been quiet, work are getting my notice in the morning (September 13, 2001). I officially move out on September 24. I'm not looking forward to him inspecting the property - I'm sure he'll find a million and one things wrong so I've already pretty much kissed my entire bond money goodbye.

So to the future and emigration and to more tolerant landlords, I won't be young forever but I've no intention of growing up too fast. However, in light of what's happened I think I'll have my wild parties elsewhere.

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Updated: 15/01/2009


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