Seven bloody awful songs you'll love if you're an estate agent

DO you like music that’s bland and mainstream but motivates you to earn more commission? You may well be an estate agent. Here’s your ultimate playlist.

Under Pressure, Queen and David Bowie

Ideal for dramatising a moderately busy day of driving around flogging horribly overpriced properties. The subtext of course is that you are under pressure, but YOU CAN HANDLE IT. Even if that pressure is just leaving the keys in the office and having to go back for them.

X Gon’ Give It to Ya, DMX

Angry and combative, so perfect for getting hyped up to give the hard sell to a couple dithering over buying a semi with lots of obvious flaws, eg. a tiny third bedroom that’s too small for anyone taller than Stuart Little. Probably what Dominic Raab listens to before having sex, and that’s good enough for you. 

Blurred Lines, Robin Thicke feat. Pharrell 

Whether you’re in Southend or Stoke, this is your anthem when you’re on the pull in some hellish nightclub inappropriately called Raffles or similar. After eight pints you’re every bit as cool as millionaire pop star smoothie Mr Thicke, and the various pissed women you’re mauling all look like Emily Ratajkowski.

Simply the Best, Tina Turner

Sounds great at maximum volume in your little Foxtons Mini when you’ve exceeded last month’s commission. The irony of tragic mediocrity David Brent using it in his toe-curling motivational seminar is lost on you, but it’s probably best you don’t think about it.

I Gotta Feeling, Black Eyed Peas

A great song for both work and play. You’ve ‘gotta feeling’ you’re going to sell that crappy maisonette in an amenity-free wasteland on the outskirts of Leeds. You’ve ‘gotta feeling’ you might get your leg over tonight. Above all the Black Eyed Peas’ vapid lifestyle full of DJing New York dickheads is very much what you aspire to.

Everybody Hurts, REM

Even a go-getting estate agent at the top of their game has their sensitive side. This plodding track is ideal for reflecting on the deeper questions in life: why haven’t I got a company Audi like Darren? Have I missed the boat on buy-to-let? Should I have a shower then a sandwich, or should I have the sandwich first? 

YMCA, The Village People

The office party classic. Everyone knows the words, and you can do most of the letters in the ‘YMCA’ bit, depending on how pissed you are. The main thing is it’s a bloody good laugh, and that’s what music is all about. You’re not a poof, though.

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But what does this mean for me, the most important person in the entire world, Boris?

WE’VE lost control of a few councils. Labour haven’t triumphed but we’re struggling. F**k all that. What does it mean for Britain’s main character, me?

Why should the World King be concerned that a different group of unpaid busybodies are filling seats in dreary council chambers, wasting their pathetic lives with planning applications?

I’m not. But the little suits who buzz around this place like flies claim I should be. ‘We’ve lost Westminster!’ they panic. ‘We’ve lost Wandsworth!’ Do they not realise I got bored with London in 2016?

The real election isn’t for years yet. There’s plenty of time for Britain to learn to love Boris again. This is the second act in the rom-com where the couple fall out only to get triumphantly back together by 2024.

Have the people risen as one to demand my ousting? Did the Tories not get a single vote north of Watford? Do the Labour wins spell out ‘PISS OFF BORIS’ across a map of London?

No, no and again no. Which means that the British people, as I’ve said all along, don’t care in the slightest about ‘partygate’, couldn’t give a bugger about our botched Brexit, and realise that ten per cent inflation is necessary to achieve a high-skill, high-wage economy.

My position is not under threat. There will be no rebellion. I will never resign. These elections are of no more consequence to me than the heats of Britain’s Got Talent.

I’m going back to bed. Don’t bother me again unless it actually matters.