Landlord Blues: Renting out the house from hell

The mood was building up prior to the eviction. I’d decided not to go because I had family issues to deal with, and my children come first. I was taking my son out of school for lunch on the day when the eviction was taking place. But  Adrian had Nigel, our handyman working with him that day, ready to change locks and even doors as soon as Jason was ejected. 
I also took a call that morning which didn’t exactly delight  Adrian. It was from Environmental Health Services saying that they wanted to do an inspection of the house. These visits always resulted in loads of work they expected us to do, money no object (because they weren't paying). The woman said they’d need the gas safety and electricity certificates which was no problem, because we always had them up-to-date, but she mentioned the fire alarm and whether it had been altered at all. 
‘Well, a tenant we’re evicting tomorrow has smashed the panel in,’ I said helpfully. I didn’t mention that he had also had his friends around and either he or they had broken the fire extinguishers and set them off all over the house before dumping one in the garden and one in the street. If they had their way we’d replace them the following day, so that  Jason could do it again, and then the following day so he could do it again and so on, every day for the five months it took to evict him. 
I said to Adrian, 'I don’t know what planet they’re on. If it were their money they’d see it very differently.' 
Adrian was quite demoralised that  Jason should still be there at this late stage. Usually they would have gone by this point, although Fat Girl (whom I wrote about in my first Tenants from Hell book) had also taken it to the last day. We also had more voids than we’d had for a long time and what with our family problems at the time, it was just one more thing to worry about. 
On the 15th of January, Adrian arrived at Hill View at 11.30am. Nigel was already there.  Jason had been taking stuff out and Peter was helping him, maybe storing some of his stuff for him. He had said he would be gone by 7pm the night before. Nigel said that  Jason was on his way back to take more stuff out of the house and  Adrian said: 
‘I don’t want to see him and I don’t want to speak to him. I need to move on.’ 
Nigel said, ‘Why don’t you leave then?’ 
‘No. I have to wait and see the bailiff and make sure things happen properly.’ 
Peter and  Jason then turned up.  Adrian said to Peter: 
‘Tell  Jason that I don’t want to speak to him. I’ve said everything I want to.’ 
Peter shouted out to  Jason: ‘Adrian doesn’t want to speak to you because he thinks you’re a fucking wanker.’  
Adrian laughed, ‘I didn’t say that, but I do think it.’ 
Peter said: ‘The best thing he can do is go into rehab,’ so  Adrian started singing loudly: 
‘They tried to make him go to rehab, but Jason says no, no, no.’ 
Then  Adrian said, ‘Are you putting him up?’ 
‘Fuck off,’ Peter answered. So  Adrian said: 
‘I’ve put him up long enough; it’s someone else’s turn now.’ 
Finally, when  Jason had finished he said, ‘Here’s my key.’  
Adrian: ‘Right.'
Jason: 'I’m going now.’ 
‘Right.’ 
The night before,  Adrian had lectured him: 
‘You’re a useless waste of space. The cider will kill you. Why should I spend my money on you when you’re nothing to me? You’ll end up on the street. People without an address don’t get benefits. You might end up dying on the street. It will be all your fault.’ 
‘I’ve been off the drink five days.’ 
‘You owe me money and I want it, but knowing you, you won’t pay me a penny.’ 
I had to push a bit hard to get  Adrian to tell me about these latest interactions with  Jason. It was depressing to focus on it again. This is maybe why so few accounts of landlord’s lives are recorded. 
Jason then proceeded to call several times at the house over the next few days and  Adrian refused him entry and instructed the others not to let him in under any circumstances. He always presented a façade as a nice, friendly, gentle type. In reality he was very different; supremely selfish and very thick-skinned. But he was gone.  
From now on we were not going to allow anyone claiming DSS to live there. We’d realised that with claimants our bills were higher, if they left everything on all day (although some workers also did this, knowing they weren't paying for the waste of the earth's resources). We also hoped the house might stay tidier and not get constantly damaged with only working people there (although Okie was working and he had filthy habits).