If I were a rich man . . . I'd drive a pretty hard bargain

HOUSE HUNTER:With the so-called value that's on offer, I keep asking myself the same question: why buy?, asks DON MORGAN

CHARLIE CHAPLIN'S daughter befriended my da somehow and came over for dinner years ago. I mentioned to her that I had just seen The Producers.

She told us what a wonderful dancer Zero Mostel was, who starred with Gene Wilder in the film. Zero was also the original lead in Fiddler on the Roof. Which came to mind last weekend, when my house hunt was in the subjunctive. If I were a rich man, what would I buy? Maybe what I saw might shed some light.

I spent last Saturday going to open viewings – lots of people do it, which is no excuse, but since most viewings I’ve called to make appointments for feel pretty open anyway, why waste my cash on a phone call?

The missus got sense and visited her parents instead, so I thought I’d see what was in the higher price brackets, since most houses we can afford aren’t that appealing. Two houses, both restored, period, terraced, both outrageously expensive: one going for 950k and the other going for as many euros as Angelina Jolie has children.

The first house was in Dublin 6, an area safe in the dingy bosom of flatland. The redbricked façade of this particular yuppie haven was re-pointed to within an inch of its life: necessary, although next to more lived-in buildings, it looked like it was doing with mortar what kids do with a flashlight when telling ghost stories.

It wasn’t that big, either, so the builder had added an extension, successfully using all the available light, space and back garden to create a kitchen clearly designed for the crew of the USS Enterprise.

There was a wow factor, definitely, though the garden had been sacrificed for a bit of decking out back. If you can’t go to a housing estate in Edenderry, then bring a housing estate in Edenderry to D6!

Downstairs was great-ish. Upstairs? Three bedrooms, a standard bathroom, some cheaping-out was clearly done on the fittings, which maddens me at that price range. The master bedroom, on the other hand, had a flatscreen telly on the wall and a bathroom behind the bed. Swish. The house was also down in asking price to “just” 895k.

House number two was in a different league, and a different postcode, D4, not far from Ringsend. I met up with my mate Brian and went to have a look.

What we found was an extremely nice, well-appointed family home. Like the first house, it had a return on the stairs, which always makes my wife swoon like Scarlett O’Hara. Where the first house had a bedroom on its return, the second had a bathroom so big you could do laps in it. There was a medium-sized garden, a downstairs playroom, a pretty nice kitchen, original floorboards and surroundsound throughout the house, playing, of all things, the funeral march by Chopin (duh duh deDUH...)! All the while we couldn’t understand it – why sell this place? The agent, whose conversational style was like a mussel being tapped with a knife, told us the owners were emigrating. Why not just rent it out to embassies for ridiculous money for diplomats and their families? Brian wanted to find out, and asked the agent. The mussel shut tight. The room was suddenly chilly, so we left.

If I were a rich man, I would consider buying house number two. If I were rich, I’d also drive a pretty hard bargain. How many houses over the million mark have been sold this year? The reason is that few houses are worth a million.

Both houses I viewed were terraced, nice, and ordinary, no more. The first was renovated by an investor, and for the amount of work done didn’t deserve its price tag. The second was a lived-in family home which served its purpose. Nothing I saw would make a punter take a risk, even when looking in such salubrious areas. D4 is no better than anywhere else. Hence, Chopin playing in the background.

I forgot to play the Lotto, so I’m still the bum I always was. Being one of the Saturday gawkers, Zero singing in my head, I couldn’t help but wonder yet again: why buy?