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Son, I'm sorry… My name is Kevin. I'm 31 years old. I live in Douglas, on the Isle of Man. I have a son. His name is Leo. He's 5 years old. He's the only thing I have in this life. His mum isn't with us anymore, that's just how it happened. I was left alone with a five-year-old child. I didn't know what to do. I just tried to hold on. I work as a street cleaner. I sweep streets, carry bags, pick up rubbish. I earn £400 a week when there's work. The rent for our room in an old house is £600 a month. For food, about £300 is left. For a month. For two people. We don't buy meat. We don't buy new clothes. We buy only the cheapest things. I don't go to the doctor, I don't buy medicine. I try to make sure Leo doesn't know we're poor. I don't tell him I can't buy the toy he asks for. I say: "Next time." He doesn't believe me anymore. I can't leave him alone. I can't afford a babysitter. I can't afford nursery. So I take him to work with me. He sits in the storage room, draws, plays with toy cars. Sometimes he watches the workers and says: "Dad, I'm going to be like you when I grow up." I smile. But inside, I'm crying. Three months ago, I came home. Leo was at the neighbour's. She looked after him while I worked. I walked into the flat and saw a letter on the floor. It was from the council. "Dear Mr Thompson, we have been informed that your son Leo is living in conditions that do not meet the minimum standards for a child. Lack of stable housing, insufficient nutrition and inadequate living conditions are putting his well-being at risk. Social services will conduct an investigation…" I didn't finish reading it. I just stood there staring at the paper. My hands were shaking. Three days later, they came. Two women in business suits. They looked around the room. They looked at the empty fridge. They looked at Leo. He was sitting on the bed staring at them. He was scared. So was I. They said: "Mr Thompson, you cannot provide adequate conditions for your child. We are t
