Dear Landlord,

How did you sleep last night?



In case you’re wondering, although I’m sure you’re not, I slept really badly because of a letter I came home to. A single side of A4 telling my flatmate and I to leave within two months, signed with your name.



At first I thought I’d misread. How could you be evicting us? It’s a similar feeling to being dumped by a douche; you can’t quite believe this is how the story ends, that it’s this way round.



Because we should have left when it took 16 phone calls and a solicitor to fix the washing machine (your plumber has some interesting ideas about tax avoidance by the way, but I bet you do too). We should have left after two years of a broken security light in the alley that leads to the entrance of our flat.

Trying to be a good tenant isn’t enough Photograph: Keith Leighton / Alamy/Alamy

We should have left because of the chronic damp and shoddy roof that makes my lawyer friend shudder every time he sees for its sheer illegality. We should have left when we had to use a ladder to climb over the broken gate to our building for a week. We should have left when our downstairs neighbour told us their damp was so bad it had rusted their plug socket and you had done nothing about this major fire hazard.



But alas. We didn’t. Because I’ve grown to love Deptford, because we couldn’t afford to, because we had no choice.



And because - forgive the generalisation - like douchebag boys, you’re all the same. Why leave one cowboy for another? Everyone I know renting from private landlords has wanted to stick pins in their eyes and move to outer Siberia at some point.



And what’s your excuse for throwing us out? Two women aged 29 and 30, with steady jobs, who have always paid the rent on time, who only throw small (but sophisticated) parties, who have kept the property clean and tidy? Our audacity to question the rent increase you insisted upon two weeks before our tenancy was up.



You want MORE money?? For a flat with a roof that pigeons would think twice about sheltering in? When every single bit of maintenance has been performed by us or willing friends? When you are mid-legal battle with the council because you didn’t bother to get permission to turn the Victorian pub into a block of flats and willingly demolished those rare red tiles? When all train lines running in that area are closing until 2016 because of the rebuilding of London Bridge so getting to Deptford will be as easy walking barefooted up Everest? (Although I’m sure you won’t mention this to your new tenants) . You just don’t care. You don’t give a shit.



So on December 1st, with zero warning, you evict us.



The problem is that this story is common and not even that bad. This is old news. Here we go again. Another young person harping on about how hard London is to live in. Yet every time I come across someone in this city who rents, they have known someone like you: free to evict, up the rent, refuse to fix things, replace us, and find someone who will pay more, because now in this city, there is always someone who will pay more. And as the centre pushes us all out, further towards the edges, swept away by a wave of tax-dodging billionaires’ wealth, people will start to come across Deptford. No longer is it too far out anymore. ‘Oh look, there’s the Gherkin’, they’ll say, or ‘Look you’re only 25 minutes to Bank’, they’ll convince themselves and they will pay more.



London is our city too - The Gerkin, seen from the roof of Tower 42 in the City of London. Photograph: Anthony Devlin/PA

So where does that leave us? Having to find somewhere to live at the trickiest time of year, pushed further from the city, from our jobs, crippled with the cost of simply moving, heartbroken with the outrage and deflation of being fucked over by one of London’s countless selfish landlords.

You are not Mark Donor http://www.theguardian.com/society/2014/nov/26/families-eviction-new-era-estate-westbrook-investor-4m-mansion - although I’m sure you have aspirations - I am not a struggling mother on the New Era estate. My story isn’t remarkable or one of genuine plight, but it is indicative of what is happening to our city. At its core, the greed and wealth of the privileged few is rotting the social and cultural fabric of London and slowly it’s spreading, infecting us all. This is my city as much as it is of those with the property, with the money and with the power.



The New Era estate tenants are an inspiration and an example to us all. Maybe my flatmate and I need to start the Deptford 2 lobby. Maybe we all need to stop paying more, refuse to move, demand more of our MPs to push through tougher legislation.



But back to you, Mr. Landlord. I do hope you slept well last night. Make the most of it. Because there’s a small but significant tremor of discontent that is saying enough is enough, and with any luck, sleepless nights are headed your way too.

@marisajbate