Living Hell 010: Witness protection shoebox

Welcome back to Living hell, the series profiling the worst kips on Daft in Dublin. For this edition, we’ve examined an expensive shoebox that’s doing no favours for anyone.

What is it?

For the most part in this series, I’ve kicked off proceedings by first reading out the landlord’s description of the property. When crawling through Daft.ie to view potential properties, I have a few requirements for properties to make the final cut for the series.

Primarily, I use myself as a guinea pig of sorts as someone in the mid-twenties trying to find affordable housing in the city. Though, I also like to keep in mind that there are people that need to live in the city and are willing to live in the cheapest available accommodation – even if it’s a box room with a cooker in it (as shitty as that is) and that’s ok. I can’t solve the problems of neoliberalism in what is a defacto angry millennial diary entry, but what I can do is highlight the people trying to normalise shrinking housing to a shoebox and charging €1,050 per month. Which is the exact premise of this property.

The virtual viewing got off to a deceptively good start. According to Arkcon Properties, it’s “a newly refurbished, single bed studio”, which given Dublin landlord’s penchant for creative writing is the least fluffy description we’ve heard on this series so far.

However, it doesn’t take long for the owner to pen some porkies. Following the introduction, they drop the ball saying, “The bedroom possesses a double bed”, and almost instantly you can spot the two issues with this statement.

First off, make no bones about it, you are sleeping in a kitchen.

And secondly, a double bed for who? Two planks of wood?

I mean hypothetically though, given the right circumstances this property would be perfect. For example, if you were indeed two planks of wood on furlough from the interior of Grogans on a staycation during lockdown. Or alternatively, if you were in a witness protection programme and you are playing the role of a small ant.

Beds are supposed to be a sacred space. Somewhere to lay your head after a long day, a spot where you tuck your dreams underneath your pillow and nod off to the sweet imagery of your life’s ambitions. Not somewhere to drown out the whir of an extractor fan with your tears.

In all seriousness though, this is the smallest property we’ve seen and they are looking €1,050 per month for it. That’s €1,050 every thirty days to go without a cutlery drawer.

I mean, who thought this was a good idea? Who hurt them?

I imagine it’s the kind of person with such a rigid sense of creativity, if they ever attempted a Tik Tok dance (god forbid) they’d be mistaken for air traffic control.

I’m genuinely running out of ways to say don’t store your clothes beside an oven, but yeah, that.

I mean where do you just exist in this place? You can’t exactly throw your coat on the sofa, watch the telly and relax here. There’s not even room for a television. You do have a small table that makes your wardrobe inaccessible, so that’s something.

I’d love to know how someone would sell this if physical viewings were possible at the moment.

“Yeah, it’s class, isn’t it? Small? Nah that’s minimalism. It’s all the rage in those Nordic countries. It’s pricier than it looks”

Where is it?

Spence’s Terrace, Cork Street, Dublin 8

Conclusion

I mean, technically it has everything you need: a toilet, an oven, a bed and a sink. Keep in mind though, paying a soul-crushing €1,050 every month to decide whether to face a wall or a cooker every night is not something we should be supporting.

7/10 on the Shitemeter.

Click here to view the property.