Filthy lucre. It’s the thing that makes the property market so attractive and, at the same time, so despicable. It would seem that anyone dealing in bricks and mortar has no scruples whatsoever. After all, what is the point of acting nobly when everybody else is larking around with their own profits at heart? The result can only be an uneven playing field on which to tackle those whooping it up in the British market.

Almost anyone connected with buying and selling property either knows of someone who has behaved badly, or has actually done so – and, what’s more, is proud of it.

Frank Harris, owner of the London estate agency of the same name, says the motivation behind all this bad behaviour is simple. “It’s human greed. I am fortunate to have all my offices in the City and Bloomsbury, because generally I think professionals and academics have more scruples. I hear it’s worse in the suburbs. But really, greed drives all these things. Without wishing to sound 120 years old, I was brought up in the generation where you shook hands and that was that. Well, no longer is your word your bond. In 2008, it’s catch as catch can, and people’s emotions take over from their senses.”

“It happens because emotions run wild in property deals,” says Giles Cook, director at Chesterton’s central London agency. He says that playing fast and loose with the rules is not commonplace, but is certainly possible – particularly when it comes to fees. “We are trying to track down a client who owes us a substantial sum for selling his house. With costs, the amount has gone up to £100,000. I am now of the belief that he had no intention of paying us in the first place. I was surprised: he was charming, a well-known community figure with a local business and a substantial house.”

Agents themselves have, of course, been known to overstep the mark in their eagerness to get business. Some even admit to indulging in vaguely dangerous behaviour. Marc von Grundherr, the residential lettings director for London at Benham & Reeves, admits he got a bit carried away once when trying to let his own place. “I was keen to get my flat rented. When this woman came to sign the deal, she insisted on a get-out clause of just one week.” Most contracts allow you to get out after six months, not a single week. Yet even von Grundherr – a property professional who knows better – couldn’t quite wave goodbye to the deal. “She had the cash in her hand, and wanted to sign there and then. I think I was just desperate to get the flat away.”

After several hours of negotiation, however, he decided to knock the deal on the head, and got into his car. “She followed me, and was hanging onto the door handle and shouting. I did the classic trick of telling her to go around the back, to get into the passenger seat. As she did so, I immediately drove off. It was like something out of a movie. She ran down the street after me, but I sped away. Afterwards, she sent me about 100 texts, but by then I had come to my senses.” Von Grundherr thinks that his grip on reality became wobbly thanks to the tantalising lure of the contract. “Driving off like that – it’s not behaviour I would ever advise for a client.”

In Lancashire, meanwhile, Paul Ainsworth-Lord, a professional landlord, is proud to admit he gives local estate agents the runaround when hunting for properties to augment his portfolio. “I tell you what my trick is,” he says, snorting with laughter, “and it gets right up the agents’ noses. If I see a property at a bargain price, you can bet it’s been sold to someone in the know. So I go to the house that is for sale, tap on the door and make them a higher offer. Funnily enough, it always works. It infuriates the estate agent. It’s such fun, I must have done it about a dozen times.”

You would have thought that, with more than 860 flats and houses, Fergus Wilson, Kent’s buy-to-let king, could afford to ease up a bit. But no – he will undercut or gazump almost anyone. “Actually, I gazumped someone this morning. By £2,000,” he says. “Last week, I gazumped someone by £5,000.” Doesn’t he pay any attention to boring details such as underoffer signs? Apparently not. “I just offer a bit more money. It’s business, isn’t it? I won’t take advantage of the very old, or the very young, but, frankly, a chap of, say, 45 should be as on the ball as I am. And I’m nearly 60.”

Let us venture to Scotland, where gazumping is illegal. William Frame, who runs a development and management company in Edinburgh, thinks things are a bit better than in England. “Gazumping happens, but it’s a smaller place and there are fewer places to hide,” he says. “In the early days of my business, though, I too was a bit sharp.” What sort of sharp was that, then? “I started building work on properties I hadn’t paid for. They weren’t yet in my possession, but I was buying them from dozy vendors, so I wasn’t too worried.”

Why does he think property seems to bring out the devil in us all? “Because you can make a lot of money, but, by God, you can lose a lot of money. And, faced with the opportunity to make large sums, some people don’t play with a straight bat.”

And that, as we all know, just isn’t cricket. Is it?

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