Buy-To-Let Investors Age 1,000 Years In Four Seconds

THOUSANDS of buy-to-let investors are ageing 1,000 years in around four seconds after receiving the latest valuations of their rented properties.

Nikki Hollis, said her husband Tom crumbled to ashes at the breakfast table shortly after opening a letter from his bank.

She said: "He kept telling everyone we were loaded because he'd bought ten flats on the never-never and the daft sods who were wasting their money renting them would make us into millionaires.

"He opened the letter and his face started to crumple. I thought he was crying, but he was getting more and more wrinkled. Then his hair went all long and white, then he was just a skull, and then he was gone.

"Turns out we owe the bank £1.5 million, even after I've given them our house. They say I should go on the game. It's alright for Tom, he's in a jar."

Cathy Smith, 36, said her husband Keith dissolved like 'one of baddies at the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark' after taking a phone call from his bank.

"He was laughing at first, saying 'just take the keys and have the bloody flats back, they're more trouble than they're worth'.

"Then they told him they were taking the house and all our savings. Four seconds later he melted into a brown puddle on our lovely John Lewis rug."

She added: "Keith said buy-to-let was perfect for people like us with no knowledge of the property market. Now all I've got left are his teeth."

Bill McKay, 56, a neighbour of the Smiths who had spent four years listening to Keith boasting about how they would soon retire to France, said: "Aha, ha, ha. Aha ha, ha, ha. Aha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. Ha.”

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One Woman's Week: Stars In Our Eyes

By Karen Fenessey 

I BELIEVE that all humans are equal under the eyes of God, but there is one group of humans who are somehow more special: I’m talking, of course, about celebrities.

Some think that celebrities are just 'fucking maniacs', but there’s a reason these people are rich beyond belief: like me, they have a dream that someday there will be worldwide recognition of their talents and they will not stop until they have achieved the greatness for which they are destined. This is particularly true for the celebrity who I casually bumped into at the weekend: the renowned intellectual and ethnic TV commentator: Hardeep Singh Kohli. Donny and I were dining at an eclectic Italian restaurant near the BBC studios when I noticed Hardeep sitting nearby, no doubt with some top TV execs.

I have always fantasised about meeting Hardeep and being able to share my thoughts about love and life with him. I just couldn’t concentrate on Donny’s comparatively inane chatter as I watched Hardeep expertly work his way through a mozzarella and beefsteak tomato starter and two and a half pieces of garlic bread. He caught my eye on more than one occasion, so I knew that when he got up to order some more drinks at the bar, he would welcome my company. I sloped over to him. “Tell me, Hardeep, do you like Picasso?” You see, I know that EVERYONE will want to speak to him about his TV appearances, especially the one at New Year where he did a vox pop about how English people have no right singing Auld Lang Syne because it’s not their song – surely what all Scots were thinking but were just too scared to speak up about. Hardeep smiled graciously and told me he “didn’t mind Picasso”.

“I knew you’d say that!” I told him. “I also love his brushwork.” At that point, it seemed that Hardeep was about to go back to his table so I added: “Hardeep, I just want to tell you that I think it’s so courageous for you to appear on TV in your native turban and show the white British idiots that not all Indians are terrorists – and I notice you’re even buying some alcohol. How marvellous!”

“I’m not a muslim,” he joked. “Ha ha,” I laughed. “Can I join you for a drink?” Hardeep said that unfortunately that wouldn’t be possible because he was having a serious conversation with his dinner companions. As I’m the type of person who respects the BBC, I told him, “I understand,” and added, “more than you know…” It was with a heavy heart that I had to return to Donny’s mind-numbing monologues on how his mate from work downloaded the complete fifth season of The Wire and how great that was.

I eventually exploded at him. “Just shut the fuck up! There are more important things in life than some box set of crap from the guy in your work.” I raised my voice loud enough for Hardeep to hear, “Innocent Indians are being persecuted by your society of white freaks every day!” I saw that I had to remove Donny from the restaurant lest his ignorance embarrass us even more. As we passed Hardeep’s table, I asked what his favourite Picasso was. Unfortunately, he was very busy so I had to leave with my fanny of a boyfriend, without a response, even though I’m sure it was Guernseyca, which is my favourite too.

But, it concerned me that Hardeep had been a little dismissive of my attempt to bond with him, and, while I know he’s got top secret work to do for the BBC, you’d think that someone like him might be more eager to integrate. Regardless, it was so encouraging to see him eating out in an Italian restaurant, setting a precedent for all Indians to change the record. Such a dignified people! Unsurprisingly, Donny had no thoughts on the matter, and started banging on again about the time he ‘met’ Natasha Beddingfield in Heathrow airport. Donny can’t understand that people like me and Hardeep bat for a totally different team. Some people have simply been selected by God to go further in life, and I need not worry about our limited time together in the restaurant tonight, because one day Hardeep and I will be united in heaven and we can talk and talk until time itself has ended.