Just outside Morecambe, a tourist town that no longer draws so many tourists, George McCullough, a single parent to a 6-year-old son, was in financial meltdown. His rent had fallen into arrears, and he could no longer pay the family’s utility bills. Then he began to dip into his overdraft, incurring further bank charges.

He stopped socializing and sometimes skipped meals to ensure that his son ate three times a day. But he could no longer afford to give the boy a balanced diet or a new school uniform, or take him to see friends.

“He basically can’t go to any of his mates’ parties or houses,” Mr. McCullough said. “I literally can’t afford to pay for a gift, or even to take him there.”

What had thrown his affairs into crisis was the transition to universal credit. Before the welfare changes, Mr. McCullough received around $900 every month to supplement the roughly $650 a month he earns as a bus driver for disabled children.

It was not just that he now received roughly $50 less a month, though for a family that was already struggling to stay above the poverty line, the cut — the cost of a week’s groceries — was painful. (Others have experienced worse: The average working family has lost more than $100 a month, according to calculations by the Child Poverty Action Group.)

What really hurt Mr. McCullough was how that loss was compounded, severely, by the problematic rollout of universal credit in 2016.

Under the new system, all claimants have to wait at least five weeks for their first payment, a dangerously long delay for families living hand-to-mouth. In Mr. McCullough’s case, the delay was long enough to throw him into a vicious cycle of debt.