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February 01 2026
Night Owl, by an unnamed artist at HM Prison Lowdham Grange, featured in the Koestler Awards show last year. © Tom Carter Night Owl, by an unnamed artist at HM Prison Lowdham Grange, featured in the Koestler Awards show last year. © Tom Carter

On the problem of public perception, political choices and the stigma and hypocrisy rife in our society. Words by Chris Sampson 

“Actually,” you tell friends, “It’s the drugs I feel sorry for: they’re smuggled into Britain up one arsehole, and then snorted by another one once they get here.”

Of course, if said Class A’s are imbibed by a rich person, they’ll go to rehab to get clean. Not so much if you’re on the streets or in a hostel.

But you, you’re tarred with the same brush as the druggies, aren’t you? Even if you don’t touch the stuff. You must have become homeless due to your own fecklessness, surely? Didn’t you?

Yes, you’re likely high on spice or some other dodgy concoction of random chemicals that someone mashed up on their kitchen table, aren’t you? Of course you are, because you’re homeless.

Ever defecated into a flask of cold tea, then swilled the resulting mixture around and sipped it like James Bond suavely savouring a cocktail?

Of course you have! You must have, because you’re homeless.

Actually, you haven’t done any such thing. Of course not. But that’s the sort of image of homeless folk that some people have. An impression placed into their tiny minds by the tabloid press and – increasingly – its online equivalents. That’s the sort of brush they tar you with.

At least, when they’re not decrying swan-scoffing migrants, that is; swarthy refugees who can’t even whistle cheerily, like forelock-tugging, cap-doffing proles will be forced to do in the warped fantasy version of 1950s Britain that they want everyone to live in. Where lower-order oiks know their place again; where Johnny Foreigner is sent back to the Colonies, to toil in the plantations of his British masters. And not ever, ever answer back.

How many times have you heard something like this said about rough sleepers: “Oh, don’t give ‘em cash!  They’ll only spend it on drugs!”

Well, some homeless folk do, of course. Some blow it on booze. Others spend it on food, or other means of staying alive.

Yet what consumers never hear when shopping in a supermarket is this: “Oh, don’t give them money! They’re a multinational! They’ll only spend it on dodgy finance deals. Or fleecing the third world of charity funds. Or donating it to the political party of the owner’s choice." Of course, they could spend your money on more stock, or on raising staff wages. But, more likely, they make their shareholders richer. But customers give them the benefit of the doubt; trust that they’ll spend your money in ways you’ll approve of.

Shoppers don’t buy them the meal that you think the corporate entity should have, to ensure that your hard-earned isn’t frittered away, do they? They wouldn’t dream of taking away their choice of what to spend it on. So why not extend the same courtesy to homeless people?

We are people, aren’t we? I mean, you do think of us as human beings… don’t you?

Cast your mind back, to before you were made homeless. To when you had a television. Remember? How many comic dramas did you see, featuring brief cameos from a “tramp”?

And, oh, weren’t they always jolly, those homeless folk? Loveable figures of fun. Their plight all-too-briefly skimmed over, human beings reduced to warm props in the background of the main story, patted on the head like a puppy or kitten. And fed just about as many scraps of food.

Well, you don’t miss that sort of telly show, do you? Don’t really think of it in the day-to-day, hand-to-mouth existence you lead. Waiting for the council to find you somewhere, hoping it’ll be your turn, at last, for the limited resources they can afford: they’re sorry, but their funding has been squeezed, yet again, or cut entirely.

Then, finally, if you’re lucky, you get a room in a hostel! A roof over your head at last!  Sleep in a real bed again! Go to the toilet indoors again! Wash or shower when you like! Eat food out of a fridge or cupboard! Brush your teeth properly! Lock your door against the dangers and insanities of the outside world.

But what about peace and quiet? Ah! Not with the crackheads and junkies shouting and screaming all night; not with the mentally vulnerable shrieking, with the alkies belting out sub-karaoke versions of half-forgotten songs: maim that tune. No, there’s no ASMR here. No crystal harps or singing bowls, no zen-like calm to soothe you.

But at least there’s always poetry. Fittingly for the poor, a notoriously difficult creative format to earn money from. Yet it’s often seen as the best way for homeless folk to express themselves – but best for whom?

Giving homeless people a creative voice, without intruding on the rest of the arts, perhaps? Can’t have them writing novels or TV screenplays, they might start sleeping on the set or swigging white spirit from the set builders’ toolbox! No, best that they mumble incoherently about their wretched lives, in dubious rhymes that are usually once heard, instantly forgotten:

“I met a chronic alcoholic 
In a Borstal in St Austell
He died doing what he loved best
Down the docks
Sucking cocks in a phone box.”

Erm, thank you, street bard. Some of it even rhymes. Sort of.

That’s nearly your lot. Change can come. Unfair systems can be overturned. When the electorate vote out the governing party, it’s democracy flushing a turd, isn’t it? And you wouldn’t un-flush a floater, would you? Yet if you vote for a different party with the same old attitude towards homeless people, aren’t you doing just that?


Support

This article challenges lazy, harmful stereotypes surrounding homeless people in our society, often promoted by papers and politicians. 
Substance abuse affects many people across the UK and support is available. If you are looking for support, advice or information, these groups can help:

  • Alcoholics Anonymous is a free self-help group offering support meetings across the UK. Find your nearest meeting here: www.alcoholics-anonymous.org.uk
  • FRANK provides information, help and advice on drugs. Visit its website to learn more: talktofrank.com or call its 24/7 phone line 0300 123 6600
  • Please see the List of services in the centre pages of the magazine for details on a range of helpful local services.
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