The sickest place in Britain: Meet the residents of the country's benefits capital

Out of the 4,500 residents of Falinge, Rochdale, only 300 work - despite hundreds of jobs being available. The majority are 'on the sick'. Welcome to the country's benefits capital.

Such is the vastness of Celestine Sejemani’s flat-screen television that, at the push of a button, he could have summoned a supersized James Purnell into the front-room of his council flat.



As it is, one of his four children has commandeered the remote control, and certainly isn’t offering to swap Balamory for the news.



In any case, neither Celestine nor his partner, Pierette, would have enjoyed the flavour of the Work and Pension Secretary’s words as he outlined a shake-up of the benefits system earlier this month. ‘Work is good for people,’ announced Mr Purnell. ‘Leaving people on benefits is the cruel thing to do.’

New life on benefits: Celestine and Pierette Sejemani with their children

If that’s the case, this family must be suffering. Celestine, a Congolese-born immigrant who has problems with his eyesight, is one of 2.6 million people claiming Incapacity Benefit in the UK.



His long-term girlfriend is paid an additional allowance to help look after him, and then there are tax credits and child benefits on top of that. Their paid-for council accommodation aside, it means that the taxpayer is funding this one family to the tune of more than £12,000 a year.

One million people who could work still claim the benefit



Of course, no one is suggesting that sum on its own is outlandish. But it is the cumulative effect on the British taxpayer that is causing concern, particularly in the immediate environs of Mr Sejemani’s home.

The ward of Falinge in Rochdale, Greater Manchester, has some 4,500 residents, of whom roughly 1,100 are of working age. But only 300 have jobs. The remaining three-quarters do not work and are supported by benefits — the majority being ‘on the sick’, claiming Incapacity Benefit.

The benefit was intended for people with a disability that prevents them from working. But even the Government admits that across the country it is claimed by about a million people who are perfectly capable of holding down a job.



In the Seventies only 700,000 claimed it, but since the mid-Nineties about 2.6 million have done so, costing the country around £16 billion a year. Conditions that qualify for payment include alcoholism, stress and obesity.

Picking up benefits is a normal way of life



But what no one mentions is that in Falinge — the sick-note capital of Britain, where there are hundreds of unfilled jobs at the local Jobcentre — picking up benefits rather than working is a normal way of life.

While many blame the extraordinary situation there on the continued hangover from the closure of the mills and the collapse of manufacturing, others think there is a more simple reason to explain the figures.



‘Obviously some people are genuine, but there is a huge number who aren’t,’ says 79-year-old resident Alf Edwards. ‘They complain that there are no jobs or claim they suffer some difficult-to-diagnose illness, such as severe back pain. Once they get a doctor’s sick note it’s a gilt-edged passport to a life of lazing around — people just don’t have pride or self-respect any more.’



A dumping ground for problem sections of society



For an objective insight into the workings of Falinge, there are few better placed than Hilary Devey. Last year she took part in the TV series Secret Millionaire.



The idea was that she and other self-made tycoons would spend a week or so living in one of a number of poverty-stricken communities. While there, they remained incognito so their wealth was not known and they could interact as equals with residents.



At the end of the period, the millionaires would reveal their identity and hand out thousands of pounds to those groups or individuals who they believed to be most deserving.



Hilary, who earned her £100 million fortune running her own transport and logistics company in the Midlands, found herself living in a flat in Falinge. And having had that experience she says she is not surprised that the numbers out of work are as high as they are.



Council towers in Manchester

For a start, she claims the local council has used the ward as a dumping ground for problem sections of society.



‘Aesthetically, the blocks of flats look like part of a prison,’ she says. ‘Into them, Rochdale council has placed anyone who could be considered a no-hoper: drug-addicts, illegal immigrants and the rest. Consequently, the numbers of those out of work are going to be higher than elsewhere.’



In the Victorian era, Falinge was a hub of the textile industry, while in more recent times employment came from the Turner Bros asbestos factory, which employed 3,500 people in the area alone.

The ward has been dealt a difficult hand



But in the downturn of the late Eighties, factories began to close and jobs went, opening the door to welfare subsistence and social deprivation.



In recent years, there has been a massive influx of immigrants. While more than 30 per cent of families in Falinge are Pakistani, the community also houses asylum-seekers.



There is no doubt, in other words, that the ward has been dealt a difficult hand. But Hilary, who grew up in nearby Bolton, says its residents do little to help themselves.



‘I went into a pub when I arrived, supposedly to inquire about a job,’ she says. ‘There were five or six men who had clearly been drinking all day, and who subjected me to a diatribe of abuse. I remember thinking: “Where on earth did they get their money from to be able to do that?”’



(Local publican Alan Whittle supplies the answer: ‘People come in on the day they get their benefit money and then you don’t see them again until the next load of money arrives. On giro day we’re buzzing.’)

'At 9am curtains are still closed. No one is going to work'



Hilary also was struck by the fact that when she got up in the morning at 7am, there was never anyone else out and about on the streets.



‘Even by 9am when the film crew joined me, the curtains would still be closed — the place just wasn’t functioning like normal communities do. No one was going to work.’



With so few adults working, the youngsters growing up on the estate have no role models. Instead, they believe it is normal to play the benefits system.



‘Children ape their parents, and if they stay in bed all day, smoking, watching TV or boozing in the pub they will think that is normal,’ she said.



‘There is no aspiration. I spoke to a number of young girls who were talking about getting pregnant so that they could get a council house. It is a vicious circle.’



This apathy was also evident in the desperate lack of support given to various community groups that were trying to improve the lot of the residents.



‘They were crying out for volunteers,’ says Hilary, who has since ploughed tens of thousands of pounds of her own money into supporting these projects.



‘I couldn’t understand why all these people who weren’t working didn’t go and help? By volunteering, not only would they have got themselves out of their homes but they would also have learned some job skills and interpersonal skills that might help them find employment in the future.’



Statistics reflect the sad reality of life



And there are jobs out there. A visit to the nearby Jobcentre earlier this week revealed almost 700 vacancies on offer locally, ranging from £30,000-a-year managerial posts to £5.73-an-hour cleaning jobs.



But — of course — as the statistics demonstrate, the vast majority of those who do not work in Falinge are ‘on the sick’. In other words, however many jobs there are will make no difference.



While the GPs in the area declined to talk about the high numbers of Incapacity Benefit claimants, Dr Nick Dawes, the medical director of the local Primary Care Trust, claimed the statistics simply reflected the harsh realities of the situation on the ground.



The average life expectancy in Falinge is 68 years, the sixth lowest in Britain.

‘I don’t know any GP who hands out sick notes freely,’ said Dr Dawes. ‘In Falinge there is a lot of substance abuse in terms of drugs and alcohol, a lot of mental health problems due to social deprivation, as well as high levels of smoking and obesity. It is wrong to label people scroungers or benefits cheats.’



He added that there are large numbers of asylum-seekers who had been housed in the area which might also affect the statistics.



'I would love to go to work'



One such individual is 37-year-old Mr Sejemani, who said he had fled war-torn Republic of Congo in 2001 after his father and sister were murdered for their ethnic origins.



He claims to have been placed in a Congolese jail for a year, his eyesight suffering because of the lack of light in his cell during his incarceration.



After his release, he fled to Britain in May 2001 and claimed asylum after arriving at Heathrow. After two weeks in a hostel, he was offered accommodation in a choice of

places, one of which was Falinge. He settled on the unemployment blackspot after hearing that 80 other asylum-seekers from the Congo were living in the area.



After two years there he was granted asylum. He immediately sent for his partner, Pierette, 36, and their daughter Benadiete, now 11, to join him. In the seven years he has been here Mr Sejemani, a trained mechanic, has never worked. ‘I wanted to,’ he says. ‘But unfortunately I have vision impairment as a result of being in the prison with no light.



‘I am very sad that I have a problem with my eyes. I would love to go to work, but my vision is a big problem.’ His partner says she, too, wants to work, but that after arriving in the UK she soon fell pregnant, her youngest three children being born on British soil in rapid succession: Grace, four, Faith, two, and seven-month-old Jevhovanis, who arrived 11 weeks premature.



‘I would like to work two hours a day, and will try to do this when the baby is a year old,’ she says.



No doubt her words will delight Minister Mr Purnell, who has expressed his desire to see mothers and unemployed couples move back into employment. But whether it will make financial sense to the Sejemanis — and whether it will ever happen — is another matter entirely.



The couple receive £125 a week in Incapacity benefit and carer’s allowances. On top of that are tax credits and child benefit worth £108 a week.



The family live in a neatly decorated three-bedroom flat, which is dominated by the massive Philips colour TV, which is being paid for at the rate of £20-a-week over three

years. ‘I couldn’t see a small one,’ explains Mr Sejemani.



Concern the system is being abused



Back to Dr Nick Dawes, who says the fact that this country is willing to provide such a level of support to the needy is a good thing and a sign of a ‘humanitarian and altruistic society’.



‘Accidents and illnesses do happen,’ he says. ‘Who knows what is around the corner for any of us?’



These are fine sentiments, but how long they will persist in the middle of a recession and amid concerns that the system in places such as Falinge is being abused is very much open to debate.



Mr Sejemani, it seems, may well require support for the rest of his life — already he is pinning his hopes for the future on his children, rather than himself.



‘My daughter wants to be a doctor,’ he says. ‘And my sons love football — I would like them to play for Arsenal one day.’

