Shared ownership doesn't help most young people onto the housing market

You need to be pretty lucky to make the most of it.

Bad news, fellow young people hoping to own a house: "shared ownership" is kinda crummy.

The dream behind shared ownership is that you, penniless young person who might just be able to save a deposit by 2050 assuming you don't do anything silly like have a social life or go on holiday, only buy part of the property, usually around a quarter or a third. That partial purchase reduces the amount of cash you have to stump up for a deposit, and you then split your monthly outgoings between paying rent on the three quarters you don't own, and paying down the mortgage on the quarter you do own.

If (hopefully, when) you pay off the mortgage on the first chunk of the house, you can increase your share, and start the whole thing again. Eventually, you own the whole house. Congratulations!

Except it doesn't tend to work as well as that, as the Guardian's Liam Kelly reports:

As Giles Peaker, editor of the Nearly Legal housing law blog, wrote on the Guardian Housing Network this week, there is no such thing as shared ownership. Rather than a way on to the housing ladder, shared ownership was, he said, "just a tenancy, with an expensive downpayment for an option to buy the whole property at a later date".

One shared owner found this out the hard way when, after falling behind on her rent, she was evicted from her part-owned property and a court ruled she had no right to the £30,000 she had already paid for her share.

Kelly describes a litany of problems with the scheme, which tends to end up combining the worst aspects of homeownership and renting. Tenants are tied down to one property, responsible for keeping it repaired and maintained, and need to pay a much larger deposit to secure it; but at the same time, they aren't insulated from rent rises or jumps in service charges, and the bulk of the money they pay each month isn't building equity for anyone other than the developer's shareholders.

On top of that, there's problems unique to shared-equity. The market for second-hand part-owned homes it particularly illiquid, so good luck selling your share for anything like what you spent on it.

If everything goes well, you may be the one in five who actually ends up taking full ownership of their house. If it doesn't… you won't.


Flat-hunting. Photograph: Getty Images

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

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For the first time in my life I have a sworn enemy – and I don’t even know her name

The cyclist, though, was enraged. “THAT’S CLEVER, ISN’T IT?” she yelled. “WALKING IN THE ROAD!”

Last month, I made an enemy. I do not say this lightly, and I certainly don’t say it with pride, as a more aggressive male might. Throughout my life I have avoided confrontation with a scrupulousness that an unkind observer would call out-and-out cowardice. A waiter could bring the wrong order, cold and crawling with maggots, and in response to “How is everything?” I’d still manage a grin and a “lovely, thanks”.

On the Underground, I’m so wary of being a bad citizen that I often give up my seat to people who aren’t pregnant, aren’t significantly older than me, and in some cases are far better equipped to stand than I am. If there’s one thing I am not, it’s any sort of provocateur. And yet now this: a feud.

And I don’t even know my enemy’s name.

She was on a bike when I accidentally entered her life. I was pushing a buggy and I wandered – rashly, in her view – into her path. There’s little doubt that I was to blame: walking on the road while in charge of a minor is not something encouraged by the Highway Code. In my defence, it was a quiet, suburban street; the cyclist was the only vehicle of any kind; and I was half a street’s length away from physically colliding with her. It was the misjudgment of a sleep-deprived parent rather than an act of malice.

The cyclist, though, was enraged. “THAT’S CLEVER, ISN’T IT?” she yelled. “WALKING IN THE ROAD!”

I was stung by what someone on The Apprentice might refer to as her negative feedback, and walked on with a redoubled sense of the parental inadequacy that is my default state even at the best of times.

A sad little incident, but a one-off, you would think. Only a week later, though, I was walking in a different part of town, this time without the toddler and engrossed in my phone. Again, I accept my culpability in crossing the road without paying due attention; again, I have to point out that it was only a “close shave” in the sense that meteorites are sometimes reported to have “narrowly missed crashing into the Earth” by 50,000 miles. It might have merited, at worst, a reproving ting of the bell. Instead came a familiar voice. “IT’S YOU AGAIN!” she yelled, wrathfully.

This time the shock brought a retort out of me, probably the harshest thing I have ever shouted at a stranger: “WHY ARE YOU SO UNPLEASANT?”

None of this is X-rated stuff, but it adds up to what I can only call a vendetta – something I never expected to pick up on the way to Waitrose. So I am writing this, as much as anything, in the spirit of rapprochement. I really believe that our third meeting, whenever it comes, can be a much happier affair. People can change. Who knows: maybe I’ll even be walking on the pavement

Mark Watson is a stand-up comedian and novelist. His most recent book, Crap at the Environment, follows his own efforts to halve his carbon footprint over one year.

This article first appeared in the 20 October 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Brothers in blood