The Good Landlord driven out by a "Neat Trick" - Leonard Rigsby

When the council inspector first visited my tenanted property, they paid me the ultimate compliment. "You're just the sort of landlord we like," they told me. "This is the best property we have ever seen!" They even mentioned wanting to rent from me themselves.

This didn't surprise me. I've always believed in providing high-quality homes for my tenants. My rooms are so large that, by the council's own calculations, I could have housed as many as eight people. But I resisted, knowing it would erode the flat's condition, disturb my neighbours, and create an uncomfortable living situation. My priority was for my tenants to have a great place to call home.

This sometimes meant accepting a significant financial hit. When my previous tenants left, my new tenant was a family. The change in tenancy meant a considerable reduction in my potential income. My new tenant, a single mother, was struggling to afford the growing London rents and was facing the prospect of being banished from the city. I was happy to make it work. For me, providing a secure, stable, and happy home took precedence over maximising profit.

This is where the story takes a frustrating turn.

The council’s visit was part of a new policy. My property, which the council had made a House in Multiple Occupation (HMO) due to the three unrelated tenants, was no longer. It now required a “selective license” because it was a home for a single family. Despite having been inspected just eight months prior, the council insisted on a new visit. They did not inform me about this and, unlike me, they did not even remove their shoes in my tenant’s home. They checked all the same things again, including the sizes of the rooms. Their official findings? A fire blanket was too close to the hob, and a light bulb had a missing keeper. They opened and closed the windows, and so on and so forth. Since that day, I have heard not a sausage. “Oh, Miss Jones!” my tenant heard me say in exasperation, only to have her respond with a knowing smile and say, “Mister Rigsby – that’s the council for you!”

My tenant, a lovely woman who had lived happily in a poorly maintained flat for 15 years with no inspections , felt invaded. She felt vulnerable and powerless. The inspectors were polite and professional, but that didn't matter. Her sense of privacy had been violated.

My tenant's experience is a microcosm of a much larger problem. The bureaucracy and regulation, particularly the new selective licensing schemes, are not just targeting "rogue landlords." They are making life so difficult and financially unviable for good landlords that many are now leaving the market. "Hurrah!" says Generation Rent.

Advocacy groups and even some of my friends argue that when a landlord sells a property, it remains on the market. This is a "neat trick" of an argument, but it is fundamentally incorrect. I have already sold my first property, and I cannot wait to offload the rest. My former tenant recently bought the two-bedroom flat. She now lives there with her boyfriend, with the second bedroom sitting empty.

A rental home is not just a house; it is a source of shelter for people who need it. When good landlords sell up, those homes are removed from the rental stock forever. My former flat no longer provides beds for two separate people; it now provides a home for a single couple. This scenario will be replicated throughout the country.

I believe the government, by expanding the definition of HMOs and piling on more bureaucracy, hopes landlords will be incentivised to cram more beds into their properties to meet demand. But this is a strategy fraught with difficulties. It's pushing out the very people—like me—who are willing to invest in high-quality housing.

The Labour government has been handed a poison chalice. The housing crisis is not just about a lack of new homes. It’s also about the slow, deliberate erosion of the private rented sector, driven by policies that punish responsible landlords and fail to understand the real-world impact on tenants.

I am a good landlord, and my tenants tell me this. Why do I believe them? Because they are good tenants whom I like to think I am assisting through life, and so they have no need to lie. But I am also a person who can no longer justify the financial and personal cost of staying in a market that seems intent on forcing people like me out, while painting me as some kind of Rachman. The price of this will be paid by tenants, in the form of higher rents and fewer quality homes. Section 21 framers, please note.

THE BIG RETORT