If you, like me, have to fight a daily urge to completely blow your life up, quit your job, build a towering rack empire, fly far too close to the sun, and ultimately go down in a howling ball of flames, this could very well tip you over the edge. An insane Melbourne mansion has hit the real estate market, and it is the stuff of all your Scarface-delirious dreams.
The 10 bedroom, 4 bathroom concrete monolith sits in the northern Melbourne suburb of Keilor East, a conveniently short hop from Melbourne Airport if you ever have to get out of town fast for whatever reason.
Dripping in peak-1980s architectural excess and yet somehow still profoundly unfinished, the house sits on 1,410 square metres of land that is in no way landscaped, lacks even a basic perimeter fence, and looks like someone moved in in a blind hurry the moment the property’s doors were able to be locked behind them.
The three-level labyrinthine house only gets more bonkers when you head through the doors, with photos from the house’s real estate listing showing probably the only house where you’ll ever think to yourself “there aren’t anywhere near enough tigers in here.”
Two of the house’s 10 – that’s ten – bedrooms feature the kind of furniture you’d expect someone with a sudden and incredibly focused interest in swords to pick out.
That Teddy Bear in the middle of that fondue-ass bed frame is deeply menacing for reasons I can’t quite explain.
But the house’s crowning jewel, in a walk, is its bathrooms; all decked out with those heavingly massive shower and bath fixtures that were the peak of late 1990s futurism. The kind of gear that you’d only ever get if you won them on The Price Is Right.
Dead set, I hammered the Rosebud cheat about a thousand times to get enough Simoleons to put that shit in my gaudy piece of shit Sims 1 house. And there it is IRL, in someone’s actual bathroom(s). Unbloodyreal.
According to the listing, the house also sports a “the 7-car garage” that can “facilitate plenty of options.” A Google Street View image of the house presents some of those options, which are mostly chaotic in nature.
Look at that array of vehicles, my god. There’s:
- A low-tier Jaguar, parked on the dirt driveway, side of house.
- An immaculately-kept mid-80s Ford Bronco, in front of the closed garage.
- A dual-axle trailer, parked on grass.
- An 2008ish Toyota Yaris, missing a hubcap, banished to the nature strip.
Dripping with chaotic energy. I am losing my mind over all of this. I want a 5,000-word oral history on the house’s conceptualisation, construction, and inhabitation. I need to know so much more about this place, immediately.
There’s no asking price publicly available for the property, which is listed as a private sale (likely price: shitheaps). But if you’re in the market for a house that, as the listing exclaims, “has it all,” then today’s your lucky day.
Just as long as you’re willing to never ask what “all” actually means.
