The Red List
I work in the construction 'game', as I have done for a number of years. We're not a big firm, pretty small actually. We don't build skyscrapers or football stadiums or any of that stuff. On the contrary the majority of our work if made up of council house/flat renovation works. New kitchens and bathrooms etc. Small fry.

Anyway, before any of these works can go ahead, by law we have to get a nice helpful list from the relevant council called the 'red list'. It being a list of potentially dangerous tenants of whom we are due to carry out works in the properties of, so that the workmen know who not to agitate too much and who only to visit in pairs etc.

On one occasion a few years back, we hadn't yet received the red list, but were due to carry out pre-work surveys of the properties to determine the scope of works required. That's my job, I'm a surveyor (exciting huh). Anyway, not having the time to wait for the list. I decided to take the risk; only a small percentage of the properties on our programme being featured on said red list, afterall. So I trot up to this respectable looking house to carry out the survey, having prearranged an appointment with the rather polite and normal sounding Irish tenant.

He buzzes me in, I walk up to the top floor where his flat is, he greets me with a smile and a handshake and I walk through the door. And that's when I noticed things were a little weird. For starters the flat was in a complete state. Well, most are to be honest but this one was different. The kitchen was a complete wreck. Stained walls everywhere, litter all over the floor, the lot. And also there was no furniture in the whole flat, which I thought was mighty strange. No beds, sofas. Nothing. The only seating being a few old cushions on the living room floor that my host invited me to sit on while we talked about the works that were due be carried out. To be fair he was a pretty charming bloke, if ever so slightly odd. Got on with him fine. No problems whatsoever. I did my survey, left the property and went back to my office. Thought no more about it.

About a fortnight later we eventually get the long overdue red list. I glance through it as I usually do. Makes for some fun reading. ' Abusive tenant'. 'Previous convictions for assault'. etc etc. The normal stuff. And then I notice a familiar address, the address of the nice but odd Irish chap I'd visited two weeks previous.

Mr X - No.X, X Road - Dangerous tenant. History of mental illness. Visit in pairs only. Known to carry a knife.


Thank you very much for the warning, Brent Council!
(TheManWithThePlan cussed your mum on, Tue 17 Feb 2009, 12:09, Reply)