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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Rarely has it mattered so little if Manchester United won; rarely has it been so special they did

Team's Europa League victory offers chance for sorely needed celebration of a city's spirit.

Carlo Ancelotti, the Bayern Munich manager, memorably once said that football is “the most important of the least important things”, but he was only partly right. While it is absolutely the case that a bunch of people chasing around a field is insignificant, a bunch of people chasing around a field is not really what football is about.

At a football match can you set aside the strictures that govern real life and freely scream, shout and cuddle strangers. Football tracks life with such unfailing omnipresence, garnishing the mundane with regular doses of drama and suspense; football is amazing, and even when it isn’t there’s always the possibility that it’s about to be.

Football bestows primal paroxysms of intense, transcendent ecstasy, shared both with people who mean everything and people who mean nothing. Football carves out time for people it's important to see and delivers people it becomes important to see. Football is a structure with folklore, mythology, language and symbols; being part of football is being part of something big, special, and eternal. Football is the best thing in the world when things go well, and still the best thing in the world when they don’t. There is nothing remotely like it. Nothing.

Football is about community and identity, friends and family; football is about expression and abandon, laughter and song; football is about love and pride. Football is about all the beauty in the world.

And the world is a beautiful place, even though it doesn’t always seem that way – now especially. But in the horror of terror we’ve seen amazing kindness, uplifting unity and awesome dignity which is the absolute point of everything.

In Stockholm last night, 50,000 or so people gathered for a football match, trying to find a way of celebrating all of these things. Around town before the game the atmosphere was not as boisterous as usual, but in the ground the old conviction gradually returned. The PA played Bob Marley’s Three Little Birds, an Ajax staple with lyrics not entirely appropriate: there is plenty about which to worry, and for some every little thing is never going to be alright.

But somehow the sentiment felt right and the Mancunian contingent joined in with gusto, following it up with “We’ll never die,” – a song of defiance born from the ashes of the Munich air disaster and generally aired at the end of games, often when defeat is imminent. Last night it was needed from the outset, though this time its final line – “we’ll keep the red flag flying high, coz Man United will never die" – was not about a football team but a city, a spirit, and a way of life. 

Over the course of the night, every burst of song and even the minute's silence chorused with that theme: “Manchester, Manchester, Manchester”; “Manchester la la la”; “Oh Manchester is wonderful”. Sparse and simple words, layered and complex meanings.

The match itself was a curious affair. Rarely has it mattered so little whether or not United won; rarely has it been so special that they did. Manchester United do not represent or appeal to everyone in Manchester but they epitomise a similar brilliance to Manchester, brilliance which they take to the world. Brilliance like youthfulness, toughness, swagger and zest; brilliance which has been to the fore these last three days, despite it all.

Last night they drew upon their most prosaic aspects, outfighting and outrunning a willing but callow opponent to win the only trophy to have eluded them. They did not make things better, but they did bring happiness and positivity at a time when happiness and positivity needed to be brought; football is not “the most important of the least important things,” it is the least important of the most important things.

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