There’s a point in every crisis; housing, labour, democracy, take your pick – where you realise the system isn’t just broken, it’s working exactly as designed. And usually, that realisation can happen as early as taking your first step on soil that’s already borrowed, bought and broken before you ever arrived.

For me, that understanding started in Salford. Not the glossy council-brouchure Salford of waterfront apartments and artisan dog biscuits, but the Salford Walter Greenwood sketched in Love on the Dole. A place where “poverty was an unwelcome lodger in every home”, where whole streets lived under the shadow of the slum clearances and where, by the 1960s, some of the worst housing in Western Europe was still being swept under municipal carpet.

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