Selling a house and all involved are cunts.
I’ve been fortunate when it comes to houses. No chains involved in any of them, and not much hassle.
Now my house is on the market, within a few days a firm offer of over the asking price was accepted, all was going reasonably well. I had the usual solicitor asking for council permission letters for an extension that was done 30 years before I moved into the place (what the fuck am I paying you for?)
Then …a short arsed cunt came to my house to “survey” it.
This fella wandered around a bit, showed great interest in a guitar I have on the wall, took a few pictures on his phone of the roof/garden etc and after what seemed like a short while left.
His survey has now been passed to the couple, who immediately wanted to meet the estate agent here to address “some concerns”.
During this visit I get a call asking me about keys for windows !!…Gawn knows, I don’t think they’re locked and the keys are probably in a pot somewhere. Thinking well if that’s it jobs a good un.
No…This cunts survey banged on about over grown hedges to the garden which maybe hiding Japanese knotweed. A wonky fence at the bottom of the of my garden which doesn’t belong to me the boarders farmland and a “tilt” on one of the piers at the front of my house that I’m fucked if I can see.
There were also concern about the log burner not having a vent in the chimney breast, some damp issues and efflorescence on brickwork.
All in all devalued my house by 21 thousand pounds lower than their offer….and once more it’s gone onto some site that “surveyors” and such like use as a guide for future reference.
So now even though they have had a mortgage approved on the place they are looking for a serious reduction in the price they offered, and once more because of this site every surveyor that comes in the future will used this figure as a guide.
Selling a house is a cunt.
Nominated by: Halloween Cunthook
What you need is a country cream gate. That adds thousands, posh people love them!
17
Haha
7
Fuck em: it’s a total sellers market.
Tell them you will take off £5k.
Take it or leave it.
That surveyor is a total CUNT.
Surname Khan or similar, perchance?
🧐
25
Absolutely right CG. It’s a seller’s market, tell ’em to fuck off. All this shit they try like; “When was the boiler last serviced? When were the electrics last checked and approved?”
Correct answer; “Don’t know, don’t fucking care.”
16
CG@ – Evening CG – I would have said “the price is the price, buy it or don’t”.
And conveyancing solicitors are some of the most arrogant, bone idle cunts I have ever had the displeasure of working with.
Very glad I have no mortgage and no intention of moving until I am 66 when I plan to buy a huge old knackered place in the middle of nowhere and spend my retirement refurbishing it.
I asked Mnc to paint the gate etc Country cream – he wanted ten bob AND a bag of chips – people must think I am a millionaire or something! 😀
12
Evening Vern👍
Chips AND hard cash!
These “Artisans” are fucking rob dogs.
If you wait until the age of 66 and uncontrolled immigration continues to rise exponentially, the chances of finding a large piece of property or land spare, becomes rarer by the day😢
8
I’ve just been through this shite in December. Any questions re. widows we just told them pre aug 2002 or whatever.
Other bollocks like energy efficiency we had to sort out and boiler maintenance. Age of boiler and electrical shit.
Somebody told me just write (to the best of my knowledge) on everything.
They’re all truly cunts.
Estate agents
Solicitors
Surveyors
Advice to anyone having any work done, take photos of RSJs and insulation etc. Keep everything together with any work done. It will save time later if you sell.
Having said all that the surveyor sounds a complete bastard.
18
You should have gassed the cunt
15
His gas certificate wasn’t valid.
13
I’m guessing the peacefuls don’t have to put up with this bollocks. All houses sold onto extended family or ‘business associate’, any solicitor or surveyor involved is probably an uncle or a cousin and nobody cares about damp or wobbly fences since it is probably going to be crammed with bunkbeds housing more illegal cunts from Pakistan and Bangladesh who overstayed their visas.
22
I don’t know about that. You don’t want insecure fences when you’ve got a herd of goats in the back garden.
19
LL@ – It is rare they get mortgages – it is usually social housing they get then buy at a discount – because there is huge equity in the properties lenders are falling over themselves to throw money at them.
Cheap house when they don’t pay – and a hell of a lot don’t.
4
Sounds to me like they’re trying it on. Buyers pull this kind of shit all the time. Call their bluff and tell them if they don’t like the house to fuck off and waste some other seller’s time. If they’re serious about buying your house they’ll soon back down. Worst case scenario I’d offer to knock a couple of grand off, but only if you still achieve your original asking price.
15
Tell them to go and fuck themselves,They are just tryoing it on and taking the piss.If they want it,they will pay the full price.
10
Tell them to fuck off! Tell them the price has gone up by 5 grand due to their fuckery.
18
So your place is a shithole and you were hoping they wouldn’t notice?
No seriously, tell them to fuck off, someone else will like it.
14
Yes the bureaucratic process is a satchel overflowing with cunt.
8
When my Grandad passed away, about a week after his death his P@ki neighbour was hassling my Mum asking if the house was for sale. My Mum through gritted teeth told him he would need to go through the estate agent when it was eventually listed. He didn’t listen and kept hassling my Mum. My Mum called his bluff and said “ how much are you offering?” he replied “£105,000”. “Sold” said my Mum, knowing it had been valued that very same day at £100,000. So he overpaid by £5,000 by basically being a cunt. Made my day anyway.
29
I’d fucking burn it down before I’d sell it to a paki.
I’m like that.
The filthy beggars.
24
Only one you’d sell it too in Sharrow, Sheffield. Dial 999 round there and the Bengal Lancers turn up. Used to be an ok place circa 1965 till we were fucking invaded.
15
I’m in Meersbrook, we haven’t been infected by the cunts yet.
3
Nice place Meersbrook, HNB.
1
@Bob. Sounds most unsavoury.
3
I’d rather live in Mariupol than Sharrow Jack.
2
A house is only worth what someone is willing to pay, but if they offered you over the asking price after seeing it I would tell them the property is “sold as seen”, any fucker who goes back on any kind of Gentleman’s agreement involving a sale is a cunt, all these surveyors, estate agents etc. are nothing more than a bunch of fucking leeches!!!!
23
True. Cant think of any high priced item you buy whereby you make an offer which is accepted, then a week later you pay an expert to come in to tell you whats its really worth. Imagine going to view a secondhand car, shaking the sellers hand on the price, then saying youve got the aa coming round tomorrow to inspect it so i might offer you less. Wtf. Why not get the aa man in first then make the offer…. Same applies to the surveyor. Cunts
2
I’ve never brought a house.
Sounds a load of hassle.
Me and Mrs Dyke lived with my Mum and Dad, and raised our kids in the house. It was a bit busy but it worked.
When my mum and dad got a bit crotchety in old age, we looked after them.
I’ve obviously inherited the house. There’s ornaments and pictures that have been in the house all my life and longer. I haven’t touched anything. I’ve left the house exactly as my dad left it, unaltered and unimproved.
Mrs Dyke is very good, but it boils my piss when she move heirlooms and ornaments out of place.
21
All these cunts are spivs on the make.
Show the fuckers the door and sit tight.
Also, good luck with the sale🍸
9
You’d think they’d snatch your hand off wouldn’t you?
Windows that don’t open, damp, and falling down fences,
Try the Munsters Halloween!
They’re thinking of downsizing.
Ps) fuck em
6
On the house buying theme that new Nationwide advert is fucking piss boiling
5
For the extension, just take out an indemnity policy. It’s been up for more than 10 years anyway.
5
Are the Council aware that you’re attempting to sell their property ?
9
I always find covering any sinkholes or quicksand in lawns with decking helps sell to potential buyers.
8
Evening,Mis.
Have you been to a local street party today ?
4
Evening Dick👍
No, had family round,
Drinks and food in the garden.
I’m enjoying this bank holiday,
Working tomorrow but still Sunday and the pub to look forward too.
You busy Dick?
Perfect time for a bit of fishing if not.
4
No,I’m quiet at the moment..been on repointing a barn and planning on doing some stone-walling in the next week or two..
5
I’ve had a go at stonewalling,
Wasn’t very good though.
Harder than it looks.
Proper skill isn’t it?
Those blokes who did it years back in all weather up on the Moors,
Must of been tough eh?
I was up in the woods in the peaks sat beside a stream ,
Waters crystal clear,
Can drink straight from it,
And a helicopter passed over,
I wasn’t strictly where I should be,😁
And thought I might get mithered,
But it was National Trust ferrying up erosion materials,
Stone airlifted.
Matter of minutes.
Old days it’d be a bloke and pony.
Hours and hours.
9
Stone walling drives me mad.
Slow and laborious.
It’s painful. It never seems like you’re making progress.
Lots of pretty looking stone walls have appeared the last decade.
Look the part but have got no strength in them.
The dry stone walling breed are dying out.
There’s a lot more to it than just stacking a few stones up.
6
I’m good at it.
‘Talk to my business partner about it’
‘Our relatiinship is fine, forget about it’
‘No, I cant make it tomorrow, got something on…’
I’m good at stonewalling.
10
I quite enjoy it,Dick….I’m just gapping…no great long stretches…the worst for me at this time of year is the fucking adders…the buggers are dopey in the early mornings until the sun warms them up…I’m not wild on the fucking things and the Hounds have occasionally been bitten
6
A house I pass in the next village over had one done along their border, took months and months just one man. Looks amazing too, no gypo job but must have cost thousands.
7
I was looking at one the other day,
Neatest work I’ve ever seen.
And the pointing on the cottage was that where it stands ‘proud’ of the stonework.
Nice to see work where someone has taken pride in what they do.
9
Evening,LL.
Aye,wouldn’t be cheap…a friend of mine does it full time and it’s amazing how much he can make…I’d get fucking bored if I was doing it for any length of time.
You’ll be busy at the moment ?
5
Evening Fiddler.
Run up to the Jubilee was a bit hectic, people having BBQ’s, tea parties, even a teddy bears fucking picnic for the kids so wanted lawns and hedges all looking nice. Few days off now.
I suppose if the old boot makes it to 100 it’ll be the same all over again. Fuck.
Stonewalling is a fine specialist job but yes it must get tedious, I wouldn’t have the patience for it myself.
6
LL@
Owt you can do to tidy up Mr Cunthooks Knotweed?
Help out a fellow cunter.
Know your a bit shy, probably why you haven’t offered.
We could all help?
Like that DIY SOS show.
I’m happy to take the old mattresses and fridge laying around to the tip!
3
This couple sound like a pair of chancing cunts.
Fuck them and tell them you are not prepared to play “roll over cunt” just so they can save a few quid. These cunts are the type to capitulate, agree to the full asking price and then fuck you in the arse, sans lube, by refusing to sign contracts the day before the due date to leave you with no choice other than to accept their “generous counter-offer”.
You’re better telling them they’ve had their chance and blown it. I’d look for another purchaser if I were you. Good luck and I hope you get a decent purchaser.
8
I’ve rarely had a problem selling a house, but once had a bizarre experience buying one.
Back in the late ‘70s I was looking to go a bit upmarket and found myself drawn into the offices of messrs Mills & Leighton, estate agents. “Can I help you?” enquired a dreary female voice. I surveyed her briefly: dreary hair, dreary face, dreary tits, dreary legs and dreary shoes. I told her I would like to buy a house. “What sort of price range were you thinking in terms of, sir?” She asked. I told her about 200 grand, quite a big house, three or four storeys if possible. She opened a drawer and produced a kind of photo album full of pictures of houses. “Perhaps you’d like to go through these and see if anything catches your eye” she winked, handing me the ring binder. I didn’t have to look for long, in fact the first picture I saw portrayed the house I knew was for me. “I’ll take that one,” I said pointing. “Do you take other houses in part exchange?” She gave me a suspicious look. “You have a property you wish to sell?” she asked. “15 Bingo Street, actually” I smiled, “have you heard of it?” I gave her all the details and the keys, plus 20 grand cash deposit. I told her she could pop round later for a mug of cocoa. She said “thanks” to which I replied “don’t mention it.”
That afternoon I unlocked the door to my new home. The house was enormous – five storeys (including attics), ten bedrooms, three bathrooms with WCs, two independent WCs, five reception rooms, a library complete with snooker table, cigars and brandy snaps, a dining room complete with dumb waiter and electric carving knife, six kitchens complete with biscuits and oven gloves, enough garage space to accommodate a medium sized football team, a small operating theatre complete with facemarks, horsewhips, spiked heels and special jelly, and a big fat cat upon the front doormat which farted burning rubber as I stood in the fine old fake oak panelled hall.
Even more interesting were the occasional large holes in the walls adjoining the neighbouring houses. Most of these jagged orifices had been covered by ragged curtains which pulled aside revealed no end of fascinating insights into the private lives of those unfortunate enough to be living on the other side. These holes, I thought, gave the house immense charm and character. Throughout there were many unexpected staircases and corridors, it took me literally days to explore the building in its entirety. The rooms all had clear characters of their own. Some wore famous paintings, some wore crucifixes. Some wore cheap nylon curtains whilst others adorned their window frames in the finest velvet. I got the impression the rooms were very class conscious. Even the kitchens seemed to cater for completely different walks of life. Some looked set for roasting ducks, whilst others appeared to specialise in dysentry. One I quite liked the look of was a sausage, baked beans and chips kitchen.
It turned out that I’d bought the house from a man known as the local hood. One morning, not long after I’d moved in, he popped round with a couple of his boys to ask me how I was settling in. I thanked him for his kindly enquiry and said I was doing fine. I offered him a cup of tea which he accepted graciously. He wanted to know if the rooms had been behaving themselves. I told him they had. I offered tea to his boys, but they said they’d prefer lemonade, freshly squeezed and ice cold if possible. I told them they’d have to make do with Co-Op brand, to which they replied by holding a razor to my throat. Mr Hood laughed and told them not to be naughty.
He then asked me if I wouldn’t mind doing him a little favour. With his arm around my shoulder he spoke softly into my left ear. He said he had some poor souls renting rooms down the road who needed somewhere temporary to live while he did up the property to comply with local housing regulations. Seeing as how I had so many spare rooms at present, and seeing as how we were such good mates, he was wondering if it would be alright if his tenants were to move into my house – just for a couple of weeks, of course. He was even willing to offer me 40% of the rent they would be paying him.
Now it grieves me to say so, but at this point I felt Mr Hood might be taking me for a ride. In fact I was almost sure of it. And the idea of getting lumbered with a load of good for nothing illegal immigrants for the foreseeable future was not one I found immediately appealing. So I told him, in as friendly terms as I could muster, that should he continue to pursue the matter he would be hearing from my solicitors in the morning. He bid me farewell and I’ve not seen hair nor hide of him since.
6
Never had the opportunity to sell a house.
The ex wives tend to take them off me before I get the chance.
4
The opposite happened to us, the deal was almost done and the surveyor said the ASBESTOS roofing tiles were fucked. They wanted to get out of the house as quick as possible and knocked 20 grand off there and then. We bought the house and had the it reroofed for less. Swings and roundabouts.
1
Mystic tell the cheeky chancing cunts to shove their counter offer up their holes! It’s pay the agreed askign price or get fucked and find sme other mug who will accept being fucked over with nefarious bollocks made up by a useless cunt surveyor talking out of his hole
0