Licensed to rent? Not quite: why Britain’s property rules are tripping up even the politicians

If even the Chancellor of the Exchequer can’t navigate Britain’s property licensing rules, what hope is there for the rest of us?

Rachel Reeves’ brush with Southwark Council last week over a missing selective licence for her rental property is more than just a political embarrassment; it’s a symptom of a system that’s become so convoluted, even seasoned public figures are getting caught out. Reeves, who moved into 11 Downing Street after Labour’s election win, rented out her Dulwich home without securing the £945 licence. Her letting agent admitted fault, citing a staff resignation that derailed the application, but Reeves accepted full responsibility.

This has all the hallmarks of an honest mistake, but it isn’t an isolated case. Just weeks earlier, Angela Rayner resigned as deputy prime minister and housing secretary after underpaying stamp duty on her £800,000 Hove flat. The issue? A complex arrangement involving a trust for her disabled son and confusion over whether the property counted as a second home. The ethics adviser found no bad faith, but the breach of the ministerial code was enough to end her tenure.

These stories highlight a deeper issue: property ownership in Britain has become a bureaucratic minefield. From selective licensing schemes that vary wildly by postcode, to stamp duty surcharges that hinge on obscure definitions of ‘main residence’, the rules are no longer intuitive. They’re a patchwork of local authority policies, legacy legislation, and ever-changing tax codes. With the Renters’ Rights Bill receiving Royal Assent last week and new energy efficiency rules coming into effect in 2030 that will mean all rental properties need to achieve an energy performance certificate (EPC) rating of C or above, the burden is showing no sign of easing.

Of course, much of the sentiment behind this regulation is positive: rogue landlords had an easy ride for far too long; minimum standards that ensure homes are safe, healthy and sustainable should be welcomed; and making buy-to-let investment less financially attractive should make more homes available to first-time buyers (albeit reducing the number of rental properties does seem to be pushing up rents). The issue comes from the volume, complexity and inconsistency of regulations.

Despite the mounting red tape, the allure of bricks and mortar remains strong, especially among younger generations. A recent article from The Guardian, citing analysis from Hamptons, found that landlords still accounted for 11.3% of property purchases in the third quarter of 2025, with millennials now making up half of all new buy-to-let investors in England and Wales. Perhaps this is no surprise: many millennials will have been raised on a diet of Sarah Beeny-fronted property shows such as Property Ladder, where flipping houses looked like a fast track to financial freedom, and will have seen their parents make significant profits through home ownership. Perhaps a lack of investment education means we’re simply not considering the alternatives, but despite the regulatory maze and higher costs eroding returns, property investment still seems to be part of our cultural DNA.

So, what’s the answer? Simplification. Transparency. Consistency. If we want to encourage responsible property ownership — and avoid more high-profile resignations — we need a system that’s easier to understand and harder to accidentally break. 

Because when the people writing the laws can’t follow them, it’s time to ask whether the laws themselves need rethinking.