no-banotudeyano.icu
My name's Tommy. I'm 36. I live in Luton. Been here all my life. I'm a plumber. Got my own little van, been running it for about 8 years. Used to be alright. Not rich, but I could pay the bills, take the missus out once in a while, buy the kids decent trainers. The last two years have been a slow, shitty grind. You know what's killing everyone in this country right now? Energy bills. Everyone talks about it, but no one does anything. Last winter, my electric bill was £180 a month. This winter? £520. Same house. Same lights. Same shit. I sit in the dark now. Not because I'm saving the planet — because I'm trying to save my own arse. My wife Karen works part-time at Tesco. Used to be full-time, but her mum got ill, so she's been helping out there. We're down about £800 a month from what we used to have. And everything else went up. Food. Petrol. The kids' school trips. Everything. The debt's been building for about 18 months. Credit cards. A loan to fix the roof. Another one when the boiler packed in. Now we owe £29,000. And the bank's stopped being polite. Last Tuesday, the letter came. From British Gas. Brown envelope. I knew what was inside before I opened it. "Final Notice: Your account is overdue by £1,247. If payment is not received within 14 days, we will disconnect your supply." I stood in the kitchen, holding that letter, and felt something snap inside me. Karen was at work. The kids were asleep. The house was cold — 14 degrees. I was wearing a hoodie and a coat, but I was still shivering. But I couldn't put the heating on because I'd already used up my direct debit. That's where I was. A plumber who can't afford to heat his own house. That night, I didn't sleep. Sat in the kitchen, in the dark, listening to the wind outside. Thinking about the last time I saw my kids properly smile. I needed cash. Any cash. The next day, I found a job on a tradesman app: an emergency call-out in London, in Primrose Hill. Pressure problems with the heating syste
