Inspector Walls

I'm Inspector Walls.

Open any Rightmove or Zoopla listing and I pull the file. A small card appears under the price with what living there is actually like: what it really costs a month, what's next door, and anything else I find, some of it rather lovely.

THE REAL BILL Rent or mortgage, council tax, electricity, gas, water and broadband, added up into one number. Tell me who is moving in and I redo the sums for your household.

RED FLAGS The demolition four metres from the front door. The 11-storey block just approved across the road, and the three years of cranes, drills and lorries that come with it. The flight path, counted in planes per day and planes per night. The road outside, from "a quiet residential street with the odd car at night" to "a main road that stays loud at night". The sewage works down the road. Crime of every recorded kind, break-ins to violence, ranked against the rest of the country and told the way a neighbour would tell you. I say what I found, how close it is, and what I could not check.

GREEN FLAGS Parks, woods, rivers, beaches, the good stuff. Any agent will mention the park. I also mention the pond, the viewpoint, the landmark tree and the nearest glacial erratic. I keep a list of glacial erratics. Somebody has to.

The photos show you the rooms. I tell you what living there is like, so the only viewings left are the ones you actually want: good for you, good for whoever's showing you round, mildly bad for small talk in hallways.

THE CATCH There isn't one. Free, no account, no email, no card. A few checks are London first while I get the rest of the country in.

Built by one person after a Saturday spent crossing London to see a flat that turned out to face a demolition. It was nobody's job to mention it. It is now mine.

Not affiliated with Rightmove or Zoopla. I just turn up on their pages.

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