Holed up with Covid recently, I decided to binge on some undemanding TV and selected property programmes, knowing that the genre satisfied some basic human instincts – nosiness about other people’s lives, other people’s taste, other people’s money and other people’s dreams. I was happy with my choice – confident that property programmes were the chicken soup of television, gently nourishing me back into health.
There really is something for every aspect of the human psyche in them – curiosity, aspiration, humour, voyeurism, escapism
Apparently, there’s a whole world of people who appreciate these shows. Jonnie Irwin, the presenter of A Place in the Sun and Escape to the Country died last week, aged 50, and there quickly followed an outpouring of love for him and his work in the comments sections of the national newspapers – viewers had found him ‘engaging’, ‘friendly’ and a bringer of joy.
I wasn’t surprised by the response, but what did astonish was just how many programmes there are to choose from and to the extent that the genre has exploded since Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen and his over-active glue-gun pranced onto our screens nearly 30 years ago. Turns out, Changing Rooms was a kind of property-programme Big Bang; there are now more shows on our screens than you can count.
Channel 4 has more than 20 (top offerings include Location, Location, Location, Grand Designs, A Place in the Sun and Ugly House to Lovely House). Netflix has nearly as many (Selling Sunset, Marriage or Mortgage, Million Dollar Beach House) and the BBC now has a dozen or so (Homes under the Hammer, Escape to the Country, Restoration Rescue). So many property programmes, in fact, that there is now a myriad of thriving sub-genres serving our various psychological desires.
King-of-the-shows is the ‘extraordinary in the everyday’ sort that follows allegedly ordinary folk searching for a family home. It’s best exemplified by the nation’s favourite, Location, Location, Location, which – time flies! – turns 25 this year. Surely, Phil and Kirstie will be officially crowned national treasures soon. The tag lines say it all: ‘Have Kirsten and Scott finally put down roots? And did Digi find her passion project? Home is where the heart is for Lynne, but was it just a fling in Tring for Liz and Carl?’
You get stuck in, and immediately find yourself asking Shakespearean questions: will the fact that the garden-size is ‘an absolute no-no’ for Angela mean that Steve finally cracks and leaves, taking the dogs? Will the loft area be sufficiently separate to incorporate Cosmo’s trumpet practice and does Tamara really care? The emotional stakes are high.
We also get the thrill of peering into the, generally modest but occasionally outlandish, homes of our fellow citizens; securing a glimpse of the domestic history of the nation. The avocado bathroom suites are still out there along with the swirly carpets and ceilings, the fake leather sofas and perfectly British nick nacks. When did we start putting big words and phrases on the wall? LIVE, LAUGH, LOVE or BE YOUR OWN KIND OF BEAUTIFUL. And when will it stop?
Also thriving is the aspirational ‘dream-life’ show. Escape to the Country, now in its 24th series, is the leader here with good reason. Exploring small villages in Lincolnshire and market towns in Herefordshire, and the properties therein, and considering their relative affordability, is joyful in a very British way.
Also, there’s something perpetually fascinating about the astronomically-high expectations of Ben and Jake, a couple from London, who want a traditional ‘character’ cottage with the wow factor and land enough for the ponies they have yet to buy; outside a village but just a short walk to the pub, decent local restaurants and a farmers’ market. High-speed internet access is a deal-breaker, as is a stress-free commute to the city. And all for the price of their tiny one-bed flat in Leytonstone. ‘Beams!’ they say with manic enthusiasm as they enter ‘property number one’ – ‘log-burner!’ But Ben is 6ft 3in and his head reaches the top of the door frames and Jake can feel his asthma being triggered by the damp.
Netflix is delivering newer delights by re-inventing the ‘Lives of the Rich and Famous’ sub-type of property show with its smash hit Selling Sunset, cleverly combining reality-show elements with the exploration of palatial houses in the Los Angeles hills. It’s hard to tell which have had more work done, the properties or the uniformly knock-out ‘realtors’, whose loves and lives we are invited to critique. But the realtors are engaging and the properties – ‘two kitchens!’ ‘two pools!’ ‘two cinemas!’ – are both grotesque and alluring. As are the tech-millionaires, Hollywood players and Russian oligarchs who might buy them.
There are too many other sub-genres to explore here: the make-over shows, the new-build shows, the cheap do-up shows, the tiny house shows, the interiors shows – on and on. The majority doing well with the punters.
Alas, property programmes have had a bad rap on the grounds that they’re naff, cheap wallpaper TV and traumatising for millennials struggling to finance a simple roof over their heads. But I think these shows should be celebrated. There really is something for every aspect of the human psyche in them – curiosity, aspiration, humour, voyeurism, escapism and much else.
Long ago, at convent school, an unconventional nun had us write an essay ‘Religion is the opiate of the masses. Discuss.’ Maybe, these days, Sister Veronica would substitute property shows for religion and I would argue – yes, they are mild opiates, but a little analgesic, indulged responsibly, is perfect balm in our troubled modern age. Thank you Jonnie.
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