A real estate translation guide

Besides critiquing whatever properties - for good or bad - catch our eye, one of our favourite past-times here at MYL is to flick through real estate magazines and have a right old laugh at some of the shonky claims and horrendous writing. In the spirit of this, here is my guide to what the blurbs really mean, because if we know one thing about real estate agents, it's that they are full of shit and often are paid to hock off houses that they think are a total load of shit.

What they say: "Under instructions from state trustees."
What they actually mean: Somebody died here. The curtains, wallpaper, and carpet date from about the same year as Cliff Richard and are even more undesirable. James May probably has a shirt that looks like this house's interior, but unlike James May, the house can't quite get away with it any more.

Bet when 39 Barry St comes up for sale, it'll be a "renovator's delight"!

What they say: "Exciting options to renovate", "renovator's delight", "so much potential", or any variation upon this theme.
What they actually mean: It's shit. It's so shit that the agent can't even think of an admirable quality to highlight.


What they say: "Continuously owned by the same family since [any decade prior to the Cold War]."
What they actually mean: We're sorry about the hideous carpet and all the wares and keepsakes and generic knick-knacks that will undoubtedly catch your eye during the open home.

What they say: "In a league of its own", "something different", and "a rare opportunity".
What they actually mean: Just like everywhere else. We're pretending it's unique so that you'll be interested.

What they say: "Feature wall."
What they actually mean: We're trying to re-cast the most architecturally abhorrent aspect of this place as something somehow desirable and exclusive.

305 Albion Street, Brunswick, VIC, Australia

Update, 28/11/2014: We have received concerns that some comments on this entry are defamatory of individual Walshe & Whitelock agents. Comments with defamatory content have been deleted. This blog is no longer actively monitored, so we have chosen to close comments to avoid the possibility of further defamatory comments. We apologise for this; if you have an opinion you wish to share on Walshe & Whitelock's business practices, please post it on your own blog or Google Reviews or elsewhere - and make sure you don't defame anybody!

If you're a regular reader of this blog (and if you're not, why not?) you will almost certainly be familiar with the concept of "Walshe and Whitelock" by now. For those who may not be, it is the name of an estate agent that always seems to be hocking off the most miserable properties, which are usually massive, made of bricks in that awful 1960s brutalist style and have about as much character as a dog turd on the pavement. They usually provoke a similar reaction to a dog turd on the pavement, in fact. Anyway, I thought I'd seen my fair share of Walshe and Whitelocks around here. I almost thought I was becoming desensitised to them. Then we stumbled across this quintessential example of hideousness on Albion Street.

The picture possibly makes it look better than it really is.

This thing embodies the Walshe and Whitelock stereotype to the most ridiculous extent. Everything that could be potentially wrong with it IS in fact wrong with it. First off, the design (or lack thereof). Enough red bricks to last a lifetime? Check. Complete lack of a roof to cap off the "shoebox" design model? Check.  Crappy attempt at adding variation with the white bricks around the windows? Present and correct. Something this soulless shouldn't be allowed to exist, especially in an area which is otherwise most aesthetically pleasing. With regards to the right hand side of the house, I would usually say something like "chop down your trees!" But in this case, the massively overgrown vegetation is more of a blessing than a curse. At least I only have to look at half of it this way. I feel sorry for the residents on that side though - we all know Walshe and Whitelock properties are known for their dinginess, and this shrubbery over their windows would exacerbate this tenfold.

Security entrance! Central courtyard!

Now, you see that open door there in the middle? That's another one of Walshe and Whitelock's famous "security entrances", as seen previously in this entry. It is always open, even in the depths of winter and in the middle of the night. As a matter of fact, I'm not even sure there is a door there to close in the first place. It would make sense given Walshe and Whitelock's general stinginess. It would be very easy to get in here, and judging by the abundance of mailboxes, there would be a great variety of places to rob. That's if any burglar can bring themselves to set foot in this place, though. Even burglars have standards.

The middle of the complex seems to open out onto a courtyard of some sort. Judging by what we can see in these pictures, that certainly doesn't look like somewhere I'd like to spend my afternoons. The balcony that faces it looks mouldy and possibly structurally unsound,  too. I bet it was some optimistic attempt at a garden or some other feature, which lasted about a day and then degenerated into weeds and muck. In fact, I'm probably being optimistic. It's probably just where they keep their rubbish bins.

What's behind the trees? You don't want to know.

There shouldn't be any excuse for this. Seeing places like this just depresses me, so I can't even imagine what it must be like to actually live in one. Are people really this desperate? I guess so, given the exorbitant amounts that Walshe and Whitelock get away with charging for the rent. They know that they can offer a tiny, boxy, dark apartment that hasn't seen a paintbrush or even a duster this side of 1970, and some poor student will still settle for it at $300 a week. In addition to that, it breaks my heart to think what lovely Victorian home stood here before the developers massacred it in the 1960s. The only redeeming feature I can pick about this place is that at least it's used. Can you imagine how many thousands of times worse these places would look if they were abandoned? I'm dreading the day that I come across one. They wouldn't even be interesting to explore given the total lack of thought given to the architecture.

Still, at least it has windows (unlike some modern places) so that you can look out and see what you're missing.

Rating: Condemnable; should be illegal.

48-50 Evans Street, Moonee Ponds, VIC, Australia

Moonee Ponds is probably my favourite suburb around here. It's brimming with beautiful Victorian-era houses, colourful gardens and friendly neighbourhood cats.  We usually walk there from our place, for all the aforementioned reasons. On this walk, we cross Citylink (using a footbridge that is far less creepy than this one). As we cross, we first see a nice panorama of rooftops belonging to lovely old places. Then, we see this.

Glorious iron desert, stretching on for miles. Note real houses in the background.

This thing is unforgivable. In the world of Walshe and Whitelock turds, this is the biggest, most steamy turd of them all, and we have to smell it every time we walk to Moonee Ponds. Gloriously situated next to the massive sound barrier alongside Citylink, it is a truly depressing place to live. The block is huge - there are at least 15 apartments in it, probably more. It ticks all the wrong boxes - no roof, awful brickwork, tiny windows and from what I've seen through the tiny windows, dank rooms that look as if they haven't been decorated since 1962. Some residents will be lucky enough to have a glimpse of the Moonee Ponds Creek through their tiny windows. The worst thing is that the agent is probably charging hundreds of dollars per month for this shitbox, ripping off innocent international students and old people who can't afford anything nicer.

Tiny windows, but all they have to see is a huge sound barrier.

What drugs are these developers on?! They could have at least built many small units. That wouldn't have been so horribly confronting. Perhaps - and I know this is an absolutely insane proposal - they could have actually given this place a roof and some features which aren't horrible. But no, this edifice takes up a massive lot and everybody in the surrounding streets has to look at it every day. If I had the misfortune to live here, I'd tint the windows of my car so no-one would see me as I left or came home. Nobody should be ashamed of their place, but in this case I can't see how you'd be anything but mortified.

The turd in all its glory.

This thing is so big that it can probably be seen from space. From above, it puts me strongly in mind of a factory, or perhaps a prison. I feel sorry for the poor cyclists who ride over Citylink on the Hope Street bridge, spot this and fall off their bikes in horror. At least as a pedestrian I can prepare myself for what's coming.

Panoramic views of footbridge and sound barrier!

I know it's pretty hard to polish a turd, but they could have at least tried. Shame on you, 1960s developers, shame on you. I hope that when you die, your hell is a never-ending maze of huge soulless brick apartments, and I hope that the residents of this place come to haunt you with awful corrugated iron roofs and monotonous brickwork and entranceways with a whiff of urine about them.

I think the lawn needs a mow, too. I like the bush covering the window.

One slightly redeeming feature? At least they made an attempt at putting eaves over the upper windows. At least it breaks the monotony a tiny little bit. But that still doesn't raise the rating of this place. Sorry.

Rating: Cellar floor

7 Bent Street, Brunswick West, VIC, Australia

Sigh. This lot had potential, you know? Once upon a time, a nice old house sat here. By the time I came to Melbourne, it was more of an “abandoned old house”. Here it is, as seen on Google Streetview:

Now, the garage was pretty ugly and needed to go, but the house itself had so much potential. If somebody had the will to do it up and restore it to its former glory, it could have been lovely. I often looked in and wondered how it appeared in its heyday. But no. Some developer evidently just found it easier to knock the place over. I took some photos of the demolition in May 2009:

So what was built in its place? Nothing aesthetically pleasing, I assure you. A couple of boxy, unattractive townhouses have arisen where a beautiful old house once sat, complete with inexplicable decorative poles as a token gesture to “character”. Honestly, it's not the worst example of modern architecture in the area, but seriously, can you explain those poles? And build a bloody roof:

Turned out our old friends at Walshe & Whitelock were the real estate agents for this. It took months to sell, not that I was tremendously surprised. About half a year passed before the completed building was actually occupied; we just kept walking past a forlorn "for sale" sign and big, uncurtained windows showing off empty space.  Given the place has been stained by the hand of Walshe & Whitelock, I imagine we'll be back in a decade to chronicle how much it has fallen into disrepair.

Rating (dereliction and destruction of abandoned old house): Condemnable
Rating (new occupied property): Damnable

11-17 Evans Street, Moonee Ponds, VIC, Australia

Meet 11-17 Evans Street. One day, I was innocently taking a stroll through the side streets of Moonee Ponds, admiring the old houses and enjoying the gardens and suchlike, as you do. And on this stroll, I unwittingly made the fateful turn onto Evans Street. It is otherwise a nice street, like most in Moonee Ponds … but then I rounded a bend and was confronted with the sight of #11-17. I did not know quite what to do. It was quieter than usual, and a sense of depression and destitution hung in the air. I felt like I'd walked into a fucking slum. I just quietly walked on by, trying to sneak a peek without looking too obvious, and then got the fuck around the next corner.

Seriously, this place is hideous and desperately needs to be fixed up. It would benefit even from a couple of token gestures like replacing the missing bricks in the fence and rectifying the askew letterbox. But I can understand why nobody there seems tremendously houseproud: if I lived here, I'd be too damn depressed to set foot outside and attempt to set things right. It just looks like the sort of crummy development for people down on their luck to be herded into so that they can stay down on their luck, or for poor students to be herded into and fleeced of their money while living in a mouldy, dank flat unfit for a dog. The swirly, pseudo-fancy script of "Evans" above one entryway isn't fooling anybody. I must admit I'm hardly surprised that one of the neighbouring lots has been empty for some time.

Was there ever a time when this was attractive? When it was new, could it have possibly been anything other than undesirable? I can't see it. It's sunken, it's bland, it looks cheap and shoddy, and those gates between the units look like the sort of place where you'd get raped on your own property. Did the developers actually employ an architect?

This is a Walshe & Whitelock property if ever I saw one. They'd lap this shit up, and charge you $1,000 a month for the privilege of having a “security entrance” in which you get mugged, “nearby shops” so you can stay out and never go home to the flat you're renting, “nearby public transport” so that you can get even further away, and “close to parks” - i.e. the reservation along Moonee Ponds Creek, an open stormwater drain. Aren't you just signing the lease now?

Rating: Condemnable

29 Murray Street, Brunswick West, VIC, Australia

There are literally hundreds of these horrid, soulless boxes around Melbourne, often sitting where some lovely old Victorian house used to be before a mindless developer with more greed than taste knocked it over. The reason why we feature this particular block of eight apartments (four single bedroom, four double bedroom) is because I used to live there and this shitbox deserves a right slagging.

Now here's the kicker: when I last checked in mid-2010, the shoeboxes that pose as single bedroom flats are being rented for almost $1,000 a month. That's right, a thousand bucks. Well over $200 a week. It is a horrendous rip-off, largely preying on two groups. First are poor students desperate for the cheapest flat within reasonable distance of university, especially international students who don't get even the protection of a government-supplied condom while being raped up the arse by course fees. The second group are lonely old people trying to live in the suburb they've known their whole life and can no longer afford the houses of their youth, so they'll settle for anything rather than move into a wholly unfamiliar (and probably equally soulless) el cheapo housing development in the outer suburbs.

That rental price is almost totally based on your proximity to the city – you're fairly handy to most things, so you'll spend all your time out away from the place and pay heaps of money basically for somewhere to put your bed, your toothbrush, and a bit of food. The building itself does nothing whatsoever to earn a cent of the asking price. It's an ugly and decaying brick box without a trace of character, nor for that matter anything vaguely resembling a proper roof.

Even better, the real estate agents, Walshe & Whitelock, hock off units here with brazen lies and gross distortions that are a stretch even for real estate agents. The last one I saw for lease was a crack-up. "Security entrance"? The front door's frame is warped, so the door's lock doesn't hold; the back door is never locked; and they gave up on fixing the carpark gate so it is always open. At right is the "secure" back door swinging on its hinges during the high winds of Black Saturday. "Kitchen/meals area"? Once you put in a couple of cabinets because there is no pantry and almost no bench space or cabinets, even a hobbit would be lucky to be able to fit in a chair, let alone a table for meals.

I have, of course, saved the worst for last. "Outdoor area"? None of the units so much as have a balcony! The other two claims may be total misrepresentations of the truth, but this claim is a blatant lie. The only outdoor area on the property is the communal carpark and a little alley with a washing line:

“Walshe & Whitelock” is now a by-word for crappy properties and they deserve their own category. They dabble mainly in the lower end of the market and they just do not care.  Try calling up their office if you are a current or prospective rental tenant and they'll talk down to you like you are a 15 year old shoplifter. But at least you don't have to have inspections. In all my years of dealing with them (thankfully well behind me), they never once inspected my apartment.

Rating: Unpleasant, perhaps Damnably so.