Estate agents: from buy it to buy me

Tuesday, June 10th, 2008

Britain’s estate agents are in big trouble. New figures released by the Royal Institution of Chartered Surveyors (RICS) reveal the number of successful transactions per estate agent have reached a 30-year low, with an average of just 17.4 transactions per estate agent made in the three months to the end of May.

“The point-four refers to a small potting shed in Keighley, West Yorkshire,” explained a RICS spokesperson. “We couldn’t make it 18 transactions because the shed had a leaking roof and a broken window. If we were living in 2000, and not 2008, then of course we’d have seen a huge demand for such des-res accommodation. But only a pigeon fancier ever showed any interest in buying it, and he proved difficult to convince. The estate agent concerned had to throw in his own Mini Cooper as an incentive to clinch the deal.”

Estate agents everywhere are turning to placing escort ads in the back pages of top-shelf magazines to supplement their increasingly meagre income from selling houses—or rather, in the current economic nosedive, not selling houses. One, who wished to remain anonymous, asking to be referenced by his new street name of ‘Big Billy’, told anyone who was willing to listen (the interviewer, and an old lady who was partially deaf and thought he was a Jehovah’s Witness), that times have never been so tough for him.

“I remember the days when I could cosh a prospective customer over the head, drag him or her to any old property, give ‘em an outrageous price, and they’d go for it,” he said. “If they didn’t, I’d beat them up and call them night and day until they gave in. And when they did agree to the purchase, I’d still call them night and day and tell ‘em stuff like the buyer was getting restless, they’d lose if they didn’t move things forward quick enough, or that someone else was interested and willing to pay even more. You know the sort of thing.”

And now?

“I give blowjobs for a tenner,” he answered. “Want one?”

The interviewer declined. The old lady thought Big Billy was offering her a copy of Watchtower, and shook her head.

“I don’t need one of those,” she said. “My husband enjoys it, but I think it’s a rubbish way to spend an afternoon. I’d rather read a book. Don’t get me wrong, I know what it’s all about, but I just can’t swallow it. Thanks all the same, dear.”

There are some reports that estate agents have been praying to God for mercy, but finding themselves redirected to their usual master.

“Pagans, atheists, and a few others, I can do nothing about. But if they come from even the most tenuously Christian background,” explained Lucifer Sayton of Hellish Recruitment Services, “then they’re fair game for me and my crew. It’s a boom time for us, business has never been better.”

How so?

“I’ve had estate agents offering me their souls for decades, ever since Maggie first became Prime Minister, but now they’re wanting to renege on our long-standing agreements and I tell them, no way. You made your choice.”

Do they try to get out of their agreements with you?

“Hell, yeah. They’ve offered me so many Mini Coopers I’ve lost count. I’ve also been offered sports cars, cocaine, sharp suits, and even, on one occasion, someone’s own mother. Again, I tell them, no. I want you. Let’s face it, nobody else does. Nobody else gives a damn. If you’ve got, say, a starving orphan, anyone who lives in Zimbabwe, George W Bush, or an estate agent, who are you going to care less about? Okay, Bush comes a very close second but the estate agent wins every time. If you can call it winning. But at least, when estate agents come back to me, they’re assured of a roof over their heads and a warm fire whatever the weather. It’s more than many people can hope for in the current climate, isn’t it?”

Big Billy doesn’t spend too much time lamenting the fact that the good times are over. “No point, is there?” he says. “Besides, my new job ain’t so bad. I’ve got a taste for it now. So long as I can afford a packet of fags, a bottle of mouthwash and a cheese-and-ham toastie every day, I can get by. More or less.”

categories: creative, in the news, rattle bag