Pray, observe the peculiar habits of the modern commercialist! It has come to light, through the revelations of a certain Mr. Aprelev—a gentleman of the Guild of Realtors—that the builders of our great cities have discovered a most ingenious method of profit: the art of the Eternal Delay.

Imagine, if you will, a scene of utmost comedy. A house stands nearly finished, yet the builder refuses to open the doors. Why, you ask? Because, as our expert explains, it is simply far too inconvenient to be honest! To hand over a house with half its rooms empty is a tragedy for the merchant's purse. Why deliver a building now, when one can wait until every single square inch is sold to some unsuspecting soul, thereby avoiding the dreaded clutches of the tax collector?

"The financial model," explains Mr. Aprelev, with the gravity of a judge, "is designed such that the more one sells before the house is officially opened, the greater the profit. For once the building is deemed fit for habitation, the VAT and other taxes descend upon the merchant like a sudden London fog, obscuring all his precious gold."

Thus, the rogue builder finds it far more agreeable to keep the keys in his pocket and the tenants in a state of perpetual longing. Even the abolition of the moratorium on fines—that quaint little legal shield—has done naught to stir these gentlemen from their lethargy. They are not frightened by fines; they are frightened only by the prospect of paying their due to the Crown!

Mr. Aprelev, acting as a guardian for the poor, bewildered buyer, suggests a most prudent course: before handing over your hard-earned shillings to a builder, pray examine the man's history. Be sure to ask how many flats have already been sold; for if the house is as empty as a bankrupt's wallet, you may find yourself waiting for your keys until the next century.

Indeed, the outlook is most dismal. The seers of the market predict that by the end of 1826—or rather, the current year 2026—the number of transactions shall dwindle by a full ten percent, as the allure of the family mortgage vanishes like a ghost at dawn. It seems the common folk are finally turning away from these architectural mirages, leaving the speculators to ponder their empty halls and unpaid bills.