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My name is Thomas. I'm 34 years old and I live in Tottenham (N17), London. Not the London tourists know, with the red buses and Buckingham Palace. I live in the real London: grey tower blocks, the London Overground running late, the smell of kebabs in the streets, a cup of tea with milk at the end of the day, motorbikes racing past and music blasting from cars until three in the morning. I used to work as a fibre optic network installation technician for BT Openreach. We installed FTTH networks all over London, from Tottenham to Croydon. I was taking home around £2,300 to £2,700 a month after tax. I rented a room in a shared house on High Road. There were four of us living there: a Polish bloke, a Romanian, a Ghanaian and me. The rent was £750 a month. My Oyster Travelcard for Zones 1–3 cost another £200 or so. By the end of the month, there was hardly ever any money left. Either my old Vauxhall Corsa broke down on the North Circular, a huge British Gas bill landed on the doormat, or I needed to help my mum, who lives in Birmingham. When everything started falling apart In September 2025, BT began making subcontractors redundant. I was one of them. On my last day, I handed back the company van, my orange high-vis jacket and my staff pass. Then I sat in my old Vauxhall Corsa in the car park next to Tottenham Hotspur Stadium and stared at the floodlights for what felt like forever. I rang my mum. " Mum.... I've lost my job." "Stay strong, son. It'll all work out." Hitting rock bottom In October 2025, I applied for Universal Credit. While the Jobcentre was processing my claim, the rent still had to be paid. Eventually, I found a job as a security guard at a large office complex near King's Cross. I worked night shifts three or four times a week, earning about £1,000 a month after tax. Every evening I'd get the London Overground to King's Cross, put on my uniform, pick up my radio and stand by the entrance. I watched people in expensive suits walk past, pro
