Landlord’s Weekly hopes to give thanks to the good sorts. Those who don’t give in to the bludgers, the povos, Cindy or anyone else. So whether you call yourself a speculator, a Mum and Dad investor, a property manager or whatever term fits you in that queer little administrative rainbow, this magazine hopes to shine a light on all the wonderful folk that work to give landlords the prestige reputation we enjoy today. It’s all thanks to you guys that New Zealand is one of the best places to – oh, forgive me, I was about to say work. Well, it’s a great place to be.
Big fans of your work, LW!
One of my tenants had the gall to ask for some black mold to be taken out of their bathroom, ‘cause her fuckin’ child has asthma or some shit. I said “That’ll cost you”, as any sane person would do. She kicked up a stink, the fuckin’ bludger. Wait until she finds the letter at the end of her renewal period, I tell you what.
Keep up the fight,
My flatmate and I just wanted to write in to LW and really give praise to our landlord. You see, we’re living in a charming little place – three beds, one bathroom and an elderly Alzheimer’s patient that threatens us every day. You know, the classic housing setup.
At first, she seemed normal! But these things don’t last. Soon enough, she began accusing of stealing her belongings, and screaming for hours on end. This evolved into her ransacking our belongings, and whacking a meat tenderiser all over the house. All while still screaming! I know, right? We’re screaming with joy too, when we’re not covering our noses from the bathroom that frequently has her shit on the floor. If that wasn’t enough, the flat constantly smells like rotting food, no matter how often we clean out the meats she leaves hidden away, squirrelled away for the winter to come. The winter of 2007, according to some of the dates. We can’t thank her son, our bestie property manager, enough for all his hard work in ignoring any fearful complaints we had. It takes a strong man to ignore the recommendations of mental health services, lesser landlords would just lose the few extra hundred per week and just have someone come look after the woman who gave him life. But not this king. We’re really grateful that he’s been so happy to let his painfully ill mother live in squalor. No, really, we’re fortunate she’s not getting the help that any loving son would unquestionably find for the ones they hold dear. After all, where else would we live? The street? Lord, no.
*Linda + Belinda *
This is a dramatised edit of a real submission, no misrepresentation is intended.
Note from Landlord’s Weekly,
Sometimes we get it wrong. Last week, our editorial assistant hastily edited an article to mistakenly give the impression that one of our correspondents evicted a tenant because she was Indian. They wish to clarify that they are not prejudiced, and that she violated her tenancy by cooking Indian food, which is a standard clause in any self-respecting landlord’s playbook.
“If I’m taken to the tenancy tribunal, what’s the fastest way for me to fuck over the tenant – legally, that is?”
Great question with a simple answer. NZ United Landlords, a good friend of LW, knows this problem and hosts a list of all such uppity tenants. All you have to do is let them know what’s up, and when their residential period expires, they’ll learn real quick to have not said anything.