Scientists have developed a way for you to avoid gentrification so now preachy people can feel better about themselves

The people who sneer about gentrifcation the loudest are the ones with parents who will eventually cough up the down payment on a mortgage in this ‘shabby-chic, upcoming area’

Grace Dent
Friday 15 April 2016 19:03 BST
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Brixton Village, which has officially been gentrified
Brixton Village, which has officially been gentrified

Scientists from Cambridge University have developed a formula to predict which areas are on the brink of gentrification. Simply assess half a million or so Tweets and Foursquare check-ins, then compare them with ‘deprivation’ statistics and piff paff poof: the grim truth emerges. Thank heavens for that. I must hook my friends up with this magic formula. And their friends. And everyone else I ever meet. Because they all completely loathe gentrification. Ugh ghastly business, they crow, wrinkling their faces into gargoyle style contortions.

I live in a gentrifying area. I remember clearly when visitors to my house ran the entire way from the tube station to my front door, arriving ashen-faced. But now there is a bigger horror. They are frightened by fromageries and depressed by delicatessans. They are peturbed by smoother re-paved pavements and sickened by the newly successful schools. Why, they cry, some absolute prick has even had the termerity to take the helm of the local boozer and save it from closure by taking the enoromous St. George’s Cross from the window and starting a daily baby creche, selling artisan burgers at £9 a pop! Will no-one stop this vile madness?

The wonderful thing about this Cambridge University formula is that people throughout Britain can log on, find the hotspots - or shall I say freezing bloody cold spots - then suss out where nothing is remotely likely to prosper, refresh or advance for decades, and rush there to wallow in the fabulous realness.

Except of course, they won’t. I’ve found loathing gentrification and making a huge sneering fuss every time someone mentions a new coffee shop with a silly name holds no bearing on whether the sneerer won’t go on to attempt to buy or rent a house within the evolving zone.

If anything, the people who sneer about gentrifcation the loudest are the ones with parents who will eventually cough up the down payment on a mortgage in this ‘shabby-chic, upcoming area’.

Hating gentrification, I often think, is a peculiar type of self-loathing. People desire strongly to put themselves in the category of stonkingly real, non-materialistic and vehemently non-trendy. That’s for other shallow idiots. But deep down, they’d love a nice americano with an almond croissant of a Saturday morning then an amble to their pub where you can bring your own vinyl.

They rather like it when shop-owners band together and paint their store fronts in pretty colours. They begrudgingly love wider cycle lanes and craft beer on tap. Then they hate themselves for being part of the problem.

But whenever anyone tuts about the minor gentrifications of my postcode, I always wonder where their enthusiasm was to visit, buy or rent here 11 years ago when it drably unfashionable and infamously dangerous. Sure, we weren’t catered for a supermarket or much access to fresh food - but if you wanted a mobile phone cracked or simply some crack, you would not leave disappointed.

Things have got slightly better here in the past five years; it’s not perfect, but it’s upcoming and I really rather like it. But don’t fret, because scientists have a formula - so now you never need see a beard, unicycle or soursough loaf again.

There are hundreds of places in Britain that are really bloody awful. Now, at the mere touch of a button, you can help maintain the non-loveliness of one of them.

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