Guest Post: Houseblingers by Johnny5

Whilst I appreciate the charm and depth of a nice old house, I much prefer a modern one which has been well designed and is surrounded with other similar houses such as in a new development.

It's nice to see uniform windows, doors and trimmings, rather than in a fifty year old street where 'Houseblingers' have set up shop.

The art of houseblinging probably started in Essex during the 80's, whereby the Builders and Taxi drivers, all dodging tax with the skill of a Matador in a red Gimp suit, had to find an outlet for the surplus cash, and without being capable of saving it for a rainy day, turned to buying tat to stick all over their sordid little homes instead.

As the Blingers started to multiply, so the DIY centres started to create more tat for them, and the whole process has become a tasteless joke, seen by everybody but the brainless blingmeisters themselves.

It really started with Mr Smith at No 34 putting a Kentucky Fried Door on the front of his ex-council house, in an attempt to prove to his neighbours that he was lord and master of his OWN house now, and didn't have to answer to the fucking council any more!

As soon as Jones at 41 managed to make an appointment with Ocean finance and get his badly misnamed 'home improvement loan' through though, things hotted up a little, and imitation leaded windows AND a Kentucky fried door were added, and just to ensure there was no mistake about who was the fucking boss, a wishing well was planted in the front hardstanding too.

Obviously, the tasteless chavs, driven into a frenzy of jealousy by these two 'Stately 'omes' realised the true value of enhancing ones own dwelling place in such a manner, and before long we saw Porches, George Cross flags, Gnomes, Fancy paving to park the Ford Granada on, Wrought iron gates to keep the remaining council tenants off the recently purchased Ranch, and even security cameras specifically designed to fool the neighbours into thinking there was something of value at the front of 'Chez Pleb'

You can just imagine the curtain peeker at No 32 looking over at the Camera exclaiming 'Ooh look, Ted's got a security camera now, that must be to stop the kids nicking bits out of his front garden...'

The snob value these cameras provide is nearly as good as owning a 1973 Jag V12 as far as the plebs are concerned...

Christmas is a time of deep joy for the Blingers, as their season moves into top gear, and the lights come out of the shed for a Vegas style frenzy of distaste and garishness. Houses literally creak under the weight of flashing reindeer, Illuminating Santas and Neon Happy Xmas signs, along with every nasty shitty type of ropelight imaginable. The heat generated by these cunts creations has been the sole reason we have not seen a white Christmas since 1983, and the only respite for the occupants of the house being the V12 Jag cooling fan taped onto the electric meter, which whizzes around at nigh on 20,000rpm...

The trouble is, none of these cunts have any taste, and going down the normal plebs 'biggest is best' mentality, all we see is a crude and garish attempt which eventually drags an area down to subterranean levels in terms of appeal.

The cunts.

Originally posted here.