PROPERTY: Peek Inside This Amazing House You’ll Never Be Able To Afford, You Broke Fuck

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LOOK at you there, God love ya, scrolling down through your social network news feed after a long hard day at work, desperately trying to distract yourself from that spiralling debt and crippling anxiety that has been plaguing you since you left third level education. What you need right now is some house porn to distract your mind and a nice daydream about winning money on the lottery, or whatever disguised gambling stream you partake in to help fill that bottomless void in your optimistic little heart.

This South Dublin home, whose current owners are rich enough to advertise in this premium publication, is on the market for €975k and is way out of your price league, but you knew that already.

D4 Manor has got everything a young wealthy family could need, including: a tennis court for those couple of weeks in Summer when Wimbledon is on, a heated swimming pool, which, let’s be honest, you couldn’t afford to heat even if you did manage to scrape together the money for the house, a cinema, multilevel parking, its own Subway outlet, fully fitted gym you’ll never use, sparkling water fountain and of course 97 acres of mature gardens, that you’d probably let grow to shit now that we think about it.

For vendors Sir Kevin Casey II and his wife Theresa Casey, the Duchess of Dundrum, it has been the perfect place for their five perfect children to grow up in, who the couple insist are now all grown up professionals, who are better than you. In fact, if you were to even ring the intercom at the gate, they’d look at their 4k security cameras and not even answer. So, yeah, lovely gaff, but…

The two-storey over basement house is approached along a gravelled avenue, and leads right up to… seriously, do you even own a car? Like, you couldn’t park any old banger outside this gaff; nothing more than a 161 Merc would do, so moving on.

The grand drawing room overlooks the garden and has an elegant original fireplace and ornate plasterwork ceiling, a beautifully lit room to place all your utility and credit card bills, before fucking them into the fire in the hope they all go away.

Why not hide out in the basement from the Provident loan guy, or just simply sulk on the balcony as bailiffs change the locks on the doors and wait for the Gardai to remove your weeping ass.

Sure it’s nice to pretend, isn’t it?

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