Park'd

I learnt about supply and demand by playing Roller Coaster Tycoon. When the rain started and pixelated precipitation set about turning Dan's Fun Land into a rainforest, I would strike. 

One umbrella, was $2, now $20.

The queues would grow at various stalls and I watch my cash piles grow and grow. And who can blame me? How else was I going to finance a Wild West-themed log flume?

I was reminded of that Martin Shkreli-meets-Walt Disney mindset today when I read a garage in Chelsea had sold for £360,000, which given the size of just 146 sq ft makes it a far costlier investment than the current record holder which stands at £550,000 for a 569 sq ft plot when purchased back in 2014. 

Let's get the basis arguments out of the way. An average property goes for about £2.4m in the leafy district of West London so the mindset of 'well, it's small change in the grand scheme of things!' is perfectly valid. And yes, a place to park is, literally speaking, at a premium, so the opportunity to snap up an in-demand amenity is likely to spark multiple bidders. 

Now to the fun part. 

THREE HUNDRED AND FIFTY GRAND FOR A FUCKING GARAGE?!

It's quite difficult as well to describe it as a garage. It's more of an accidental smattering of bricks with a giant black door bolted to the front. Down an alley so narrow, you'd have a a reasonably tricky time navigating your own face down it. 

A Place in the Sun or The Wire?

Then there's actually getting to it. Unfortunately access via large vehicle is not one of the garage's main traits. It's not even a trait at all. I mean you might get a remote control Lightning McQueen toy slotted in, and then maybe at a push, a Smart Two Convertible. But neither of these cars scream 'look at me with my new garage which cost the same as paying Wayne Rooney for 10 days so you could demand he throw himself off the nearest steep edge'. 

Your average Russian oligarch, Middle Eastern Sheikh or extra on Made in Chelsea is going to be piloting a small amphibious warship with the turning circle of the moon. The likelihood of squeezing it into a space that is proportionally the size of a badger's arsehole is fairly unlikely. 

"It's the chauffeur's job!" I hear you scream in unison. I mean, the poor soul tasked with that on day one of the job. What other hellish demands would this tyrannical garage-owner set out? 'Park the car, sweep the entrance hall, then go and flog this Iberian ham in the streets of Islamabad at a 2.5x markup.'

Those tasked with selling the garage had expected it to fetch somewhere around £180,000. Without knowing someone was going to stump up double that, you'd have called the estate agents names a lot worse than you'd usually do. You'd have sat there thinking, the cheek of these upstart yuppies who fund an evening of cocktails and cocaine at Boujis by flogging a studio flat vaguely near the DLR to some Ukrainian investor, to then demand more than the fourth-best prize on Who Wants to Be A Millionaire for a fucking undercover car parking space?

Then a couple of bidders went mad and here we are, in a society where we're accepting £360,000 for a space most homeowners would use to dispose of old gym equipment, store Christmas decorations or plot to dispatch their mother-in-law in. 

There will be Buzzfeed articles in the next few days lamenting how you can buy a five-bedroom palace with tennis courts on the outskirts of Blackburn for the same money. But we're missing the point. We shouldn't be comparing this frivolous exercise of dick-measuring through lavish expenditure to other property. We should be comparing this to other things we can buy which add similar value to our lives. 

Like shelving. What other shelving solution can we buy for £360,000? None. Make a list out of that, Buzzfeed. 

But such is the mad world of London property, it serves no purpose trying to come to terms with outlandish stories like this. Just bury yourself in a video game and ruin the poor people's lives on there instead.