A Weirdly Uplifting Chat with the Guy Who Used to Live in That Utter Shithole in Kilburn

We have started posting London Rental Opportunities globally on Facebook, to show America what a state the English capital is in. So now Americans have got involved in London Rental Opportunity of the Week, being American, bringing us their American opinions. And in a way this is highly delightful: Americans, with their solid white teeth and their Olive Gardens, come to our world and our city with a curious new perspective, one I'd often never considered before.

In another way, it's strange: Americans, for some reason – often young men, the Americans – seem keen to prove they can live anywhere, that living in squalid conditions is some sort of fun challenge. American men, they tell us, can live about anywhere if they have access to Call of Duty once they're there. Here are two very real examples, from Facebook: "Invest in a decent febreeze supply and use a capture card to play my consoles on my laptop," says literally a man called Corey on one post; "As long as I've got room for my TV and PC I'm good," says another, called Ron, further up. American men are in a rush to tell us that all they require is a small dry space to play computer games in and to suck it up, snowflakes. Oh, you want an actual wardrobe to put your clothes in? Wear the same tactical jorts/T-shirt from a webcomic combo as me, they say, and you'll never need a wardrobe again!

"I was a scout when I was younger, so I spent more than 50 nights of my life being outdoors in a tent," says another American, Sean S., who goes by a codename now because he wants to. "So that was certainly liveable in comparison to sleeping outdoors." Sean S. is talking about the latest London Rental Opportunity of the Week, Potentially the Worst One Yet, in Kilburn, which he knows first-hand is not quite as bad as a tent, seeing as he lived there for ten whole months back in 2014.

When the original VICE piece went up, and the idea of a tiny cupboard for rent in Kilburn went viral, Sean noticed it was his old place from his time spent studying in London and reached out to me to talk about it. We then had an extremely pleasant, curiously uplifting chat about what it's like to live in the worst place in the city – here is a shortened version of it for your pleasure:

VICE: Hey, Sean. Thank you for letting me know that you lived in that shithole.
Sean: Yeah, well, it really is. And looking back now – I'm working in the corporate world and have a normal place to live in – it is a little astonishing that I was able to live there for as long as I did.

How old were you at the time?
It was about two-and-a-half years ago, so I was 22. I was fresh in the UK after moving from the US and I was taking a spot on the Masters programme at the Royal Academy of Music, in Marylebone. I'm absolutely sure that everyone who saw your article had a feeling of revulsion about the place, but honestly when I entered it for the first time I actually had a feeling of such relief – because here was a place that I could actually afford on my shoestring student budget. It was commutable very easily to my school, and not only that: it was quiet enough that no one would bother me when I was writing my music.

So it actually fitted into the weird parameters of what you needed at the time?
It did, it did. And I acknowledge that those parameters aren't easily found in most people's calculations…

This might be a strange question, but how many places did you actually look at first? Did you, you know, know about flat-shares?
That was the sixth place I looked at. It was three days of intense looking. What I didn't anticipate was how difficult it would be to schedule all the flat viewings – to even get in touch with landlords, or agents, while I was on the other side of the pond. I thought – naïvely, being 22 – that I'd be able to set up a whole host of viewings and set up my housing situation when I got there because I had everything lined up already, but that just wasn't the case, so I was frantically on the ground trying to find a place to live. I was staying with the one person in the entire city that I knew, and he wasn't even a friend – more of an acquaintance that I had met – and he was such a nice person, and I wanted to minimise the burden I was being on him, so I wasn't going all-out for one or two weeks to find the perfect place. I just had to get a place.

Did you ever bring anyone back?
Yes.

How?
Looking back, I have no idea. The first thing to let you know is that I do sleep with men, not women, which makes it slightly easier. Not to say that gay men are necessarily less high maintenance than women, but… it made it easier. Just imagine what it must have been like to be a straight guy.

What were the reactions like when you took a sex visitor back, then?
There was nothing positive. I am still really good friends with one person who stayed over with me a couple of times, but eventually we got smart and I stayed with him. He and I had spent three hours drinking and getting to know each other in Soho. It was like 3AM and he walked into the apartment and opened the door and stepped into the threshold, and was like: "Wow, you said it was small, but I didn't know it was going to be this small." He was so graceful – that is how you know that it's a good person. In the morning he was like "beggars can't be choosers!" and sometimes, this is just where you're sleeping – it beats taking a night bus at 3AM to South Ken.

Can I ask a logistical question: was it part of another block of flats or was it an off-shoot of someone else's house or—?
It was an independent flat in a building that had five flats, and this was flat number one. It was, I think, from my poking around, by far the smallest unit in this building. My photos might show you a better perspective of how this flat looks, and it might be a bit more flattering, because I kept it in a considerably nicer state then whoever picked those ghastly photos [in the listing]. One thing that is worth nothing is that there were a number of comments from other media sources about how filthy that mattress was; actually, the mattress cover was grey, it just had the appearance of a white mattress that had been soiled. It was actually quite clean, though very uncomfortable.

Where did you put your clothes?
A lot of people were asking, "Where do you put your clothes?" And it's true that there's no dresser or wardrobe. You can't see above the headboard of the bed, but there is a series of two or three shelves that are pretty rudimentary but do the job, and I actually stacked all my clothes on top of one another on those shelves on top of my head. It really wasn't an ideal situation because I couldn't cook aromatic food – I actually had a friend, the same friend I mentioned five minutes ago – and I had him over for dinner and we were getting to know each other and I was cooking this really spicy, smelly curry and I had to actually wash my entire wardrobe because all of my clothes – all of my clothes – just smelt like an Indian restaurant.

How did you wash your clothes? There is no washing machine. Did you use a laundrette?
There was a laundrette literally across the street. The other thing to mention about how small the flat is is that the shower made the entire flat steam, and the water would condense on all the surfaces because it was impossible for the water to escape, and that was very problematic because the water would escape to places you couldn't get to and cause black mould. So several times during my stay I had to get under my bed and scrub black mould that had accumulated on the walls there, and I'm pretty sure it was there for a while before I noticed it. I was wondering, 'Why am I slightly congested every time I come back to my apartment?' And then: ding, I figured out why.

Did I see in the picture you sent me that you used the curtain rail to hang some of your clothes as well?
There was nowhere to hang clothes except from the curtain rail, and it was a dual solution – I didn't have curtains, or whoever occupied the space had clearly put in curtains then taken them with them because I sure didn't have them, and so I would hang my shirts and suits and whatever and it would be a one size fits all solution.

What was the landlord like? Did you ever meet him?
The first month I paid rent I actually went to his office and met him in person, and all I can say is the situation regarding agents and landlords is above board. The landlord was a dear. I don't think I understood how sympathetic he was to me living there as I do now, because he was an adult, and now I am an adult – and I was a kid living in this place – I was happy to be here, and I think he understood that he had to treat me nice because it was a shithole.

There's a weird story about that, actually: I was on Grindr – I had just downloaded the app and it kind of scared me, the idea of meeting up with random people – but you know: I'm in this city and I literally know no one, so this might be a good way of starting to get to know some new friends. So it's day three in London and I happened to find this spot as I was chatting with another guy, who was like, "Hey, I'd like to meet you." And I said, "Well, I'd like to meet you too, except I have a flat viewing at 4PM. So maybe afterwards, what do you think?" And he said, "Maybe, or I could come to the flat viewing with you?" I had no idea how to react because that was such a weird suggestion.

Yeah that's so weird.
But I thought for like two seconds and said: "Absolutely yes, come with me to my flat viewing," because I thought, 'If nothing else, this is going to be a great story.' So we meet outside this flat about five minutes before and I meet the agent and he shows me the place and there is really nothing to show, so he just says, "Hey, here it is, do you have any questions?" I wasn't prepared for that, so I just started stammering out a few half-baked questions and my date puts up his hand and he silences me and he starts asking much more discerning questions. Like, he has been in London for five years, he knows the housing regulations, and now I have someone who I have only known for five minutes standing up for my tenant rights in front of me – it was actually amazing to watch. I signed for the flat, he showed me how to go to a cash machine and take pounds out, we rode together to the agency and I signed the lease, then 30 minutes later I had just signed for this apartment that a guy I'd never met before had helped me get… and I didn't know what to do. So he said, "Would you like to get tea and scones?" Long story short I spent the next six days with this guy. I stayed at his apartment while I was waiting for my lease to begin, he showed me all the best parts of London and how to navigate the bus system, he showed me his favourite place to get pie and mash in Greenwich, and he showed me his favourite places and neighbourhoods he had an affinity for.

We never ended up seeing each other much after that weekend, but we still keep in touch sporadically, and I will never forget what he did for me that day: the fact that the place that he helped me find – that was such a hard won victory for me at the time! – has been circulating as a viral article about how shitty it is is so ironic to me. It is just hilarious.

So, two questions: do you currently live in a better place now?
Yes! I live in a nice place now, with separate rooms for the fridge and the bed.

That's good. That's good. And if now, at the age of 25, I opened the door to you and said, "Do you want to live here?" would you be able to live here, now; would you have the mental and physical tools available to live in this shit hole in Kilburn? Or are you past that time in your life?
It's funny you ask that, because I was asking myself that same question last night – and the answer is no, because I don't have that desperation. I am financially more stable, and I am not in danger of not having a place to live, and I have a network of friends and people who I could stay on their sofas while I could stretch out a housing search to find somewhere that was better. But I could totally see myself being in the same situation that I was two-and-a-half years ago, and if so I would probably make the same choice. I guess it comes down to— you're asking do I regret the decision, I guess. You are asking would I have made a different decision if I went back. And the answer is no I would make the same decision.

@joelgolby

More from LROTW:

Kilburn!

Hammersmith!

Brighton!