I watch property programmes because I like inflicting pain on myself.
That’s the only conclusion I, as a millennial, can come to. I must be a masochist, because I enjoy seeing people with more money than I’ll ever have buying homes I’ll never be able to afford.
There was a time when, for me at least, watching property shows was an act of dissent. In the mid 2000s, catching Homes Under the Hammer during its 10am timeslot as a teenager was the ultimate sign of rebellion, because you should, by rights, be in school. Ditto with Location Location Location, Escape to the Country or any of the litany of property programmes which have been going strong since the turn of the century.
Now, though, I realise that these property shows are not simply designed for adolescents pulling sickies. In fact, I’m not the prime target audience for these shows at all. The people who actually appear on these shows are whiter than white, comfortably middle-class and able to splash the cash from years of good jobs. They couldn’t be further away from a working class, white-passing millennial in an age defined by the mortgage crisis and subsequent financial crash.
It wasn’t always this way. When Location, Location, Location began in 2000, 20 per cent of young people and 80 per cent of middle-aged people owned their own home. Rewind a decade, to 1991, and just north of 35 per cent of 16-24 year olds owned their own home. By 2013-2014, that figure had fallen to under 10 per cent. On average, house prices have risen 7 per cent each year since 1980. Job security is hugely decreased. The average deposit needed to buy a property in London, where jobs are most plentiful, has risen by £76,000 in the last decade.
In short, in 2017, watching a property programme as a millennial is simply a reminder that the ladders have all been pulled up.
To add insult to injury, political attempts to help young renters, like that of Ed Miliband’s 2015 manifesto, face a backlash from Britain’s well-organised and vocal landlord class. It’s a small comfort that both Theresa May and Jeremy Corbyn have proposed reforms, since this parliament looks likely to be dominated by Brexit. On the plus side, as far as sofa bums are concerned, appalling renting conditions has spawned a new genre of gritty reality TV typified by When the Landlords Moved In.
So why do I keep watching programmes about people I do not resemble buying houses I cannot afford? Simply because property programmes make undeniably good viewing. Teenagers argue on Twitter about which of them would be the better replacement for Grand Designs’ iconic presenter Kevin McCloud. One friend I spoke to about the show called it “daydream material”.
“It’s really satisfying to watch”, she said. “There’s something about seeing people be able to build their dream houses that’s interesting. I like thinking about what my house would look like.” Another said that “it’s a nosiness thing combined with seeing how the other half live”. Another friend I spoke to, a couple of years younger than me, couldn’t describe the allure specifically, simply saying “I just like houses”.
Twitter hosts a number of young fans who also like houses:
Everyone is going out and doing things for the summer and I’m sitting here eating yogurt and watching Homes Under The Hammer
— Bree (@xbreeashe) 4 August 2017
As tragic as it is, I can’t stop watching homes under the hammer
— D/NE (@DaneAnderson16) 4 August 2017
The real question is why isn’t Homes Under The Hammer on in A prime time Saturday night slot?
— Ally (@itsalicewilson) 15 August 2017
Why indeed, Ally. Why indeed.
Other millennial users are brokenhearted that Kirstie and Phil, the pair who host Location Location Location, are not, in fact, a real couple:
Omg how are kirstie and Phil from location location location married to other people I feel like my whole life has been a lie
— Tom (@Txmm_14) 16 May 2017
Finding out Phil and kirstie from location location location weren’t married
— Gwen (@0vxrdose) 10 June 2017
There’s something else here though, aside from on-screen sexual tension. It goes back to that idea of “daydream material”. It’s an image of what could be – of what should be. You can’t help but be excited for the homeowners featured on the programme, especially if they’re buying their first home or expanding to a home for life. It’s an infectious feeling of what we’d like to have. It’s hope.
Granted, it might be futile. Despite Brexit, a shortgage of homes means house prices don’t look set to plummet any time soon. And millennials don’t seem likely to afford them – figures released yesterday make clear that though employment has gone up, wages remain stagnant.
There doesn’t appear to be any real way out, except for a permanent sojourn in the letting market. As a result, property TV is actually perfect “reality” TV. Like living in the Big Brother house, or finding “love” on an island, or winning £1,000,000 through being a nerd, property TV has ascended from its roots as programming designed to inform and entertain, to the realm of unantainable, glossy wish-fulfilment, as removed from real life as that Total Wipeout assault course.
And yet, the hope lives on. It might not be yet – it might not even be soon – but Phil and Kirstie, when you come for me, I’ll be ready.