Fifteen years after a former rough sleeper called John Bird launched a magazine to help the homeless, there are Big Issue vendors on almost every high street. But what sort of people are they? How did they end up where they are? And what do they think of us, their customers? From the alcoholic Oxbridge graduate to the twentysomething with two young children, they tell us their stories

My life went downhill five years ago. I grew up in Shelford, a small village just outside of Cambridge. Everything was good until my mum committed suicide. I was 28 at the time, and I'd lived at home with her until that point. After that, I decided to move into Cambridge. I was very messed up in the head.

I slept near the river, mostly on my own. The worst thing was not having any privacy. No clothes, no possessions, no TV, nowhere to relax. Sometimes you just want to get away and shut everyone out, but you can't.

After a year of being homeless, someone told me about the Big Issue. When I first started, I needed beer for Dutch courage. It's not easy. I've been threatened with being stabbed, punched, all sorts. You have to be really restrained when that happens, but last week I ended up retaliating. Some guy said to me, "A please and thank you would be nice." I couldn't help it, and said, "You want me to thank you for blanking me?" He tried to get me debadged - went to my office, the police, everything. But mostly you've just got to bite your lip and smile.

My pitch is outside Sainsbury's and I have a few regular customers. Tourists are very hard to sell to, though - they sometimes refuse to acknowledge me. Maybe they just don't want to read a British magazine. Fair enough. Americans buy them, though. Humour is the best way to sell. My best lines are, "Form a long orderly queue" or "Please don't all rush at once." If you're looking miserable, then nobody will buy off you. But the more miserable you get, the less you sell. So on a bad day you just have to force a smile and start again.

Right now, my immediate plan is to find a council flat. I'm in a probation hostel at the moment, because I ended up in prison a while back when life wasn't going well. After I get my own place I'll hopefully get a job, something that uses my skills. Before my mum died, I did a business and finance HND at university.

When customers are friendly and tell me I've brightened their day, that makes my day. That's what makes it worth it.

Debbie, 43 Newcastle

Women make up only 10% of the Big Issue sales force. "It can be intimidating standing on the street, especially if you're a woman," says a spokesperson. Some members of the public "are even happy to approach the women and proposition them inappropriately".

I've made a lot of friends. Not just customers, but friends. The sort that give you Christmas and birthday cards. One of my customers sent me a postcard from her holidays in Italy. It was addressed to my pitch here and the postman delivered it. But there are also a lot of nasty people - you get a lot of abuse from young lads going out drinking at the Bigg Market on a Friday and Saturday night. A couple of weeks ago, I got me books kicked out of me hand and someone's ring on my face. You try to put this on one side and look at the good things.

I was married but my husband had a lot of problems. I thought I would make a fresh start for myself and my kids and build a new life for myself, so I left the house. I shouldn't have done but I had no other option. So I've been on the streets since 2000. My eldest daughter is 22. She is studying for a law degree and I'm helping her through university. My other three are 13, 11 and 10. They are with me mam, but it's only a little house. I've got myself in a hostel.

Four years ago, a young lass took us to the Big Issue people, saying it would help, and it has. I'd like to get a flat or house with a nice little garden and full-time employment. The Big Issue Foundation [the charity behind the magazine] gives you some money to help you get a home. My income from selling the magazine goes on food and clothing.

I'm on a housing association list but I haven't got anywhere yet. I don't think much of the association. I've been saving up to buy a lot of things to go in the house, when I get it. I've got myself a TV, a chest freezer, a bed, a wardrobe and a new duvet. I've also got different ornaments, towels and tea-towels. I've got them all in boxes at me mam's and I've got me settee in the Big Issue office. I'm trying to save up for carpets and curtains now.

Malcolm, 26 Birmingham

I've been homeless for six years and five months. My dad died, I lost my job because I lost my driving licence and I needed to drive to get to work, and then my relationship broke down. I found myself on the streets, in my clothes, with nothing.

For about four years, I was in denial. If I had somewhere to go, then I wasn't homeless. Then it hit me really hard. Homelessness is one of the most horrendous things I've experienced in my life. I wouldn't wish it on anybody. You can get a job but it is hard to keep it. I started college to get a forklift truck driver's licence but I was waking up in all different places and my punctuality affected things and I started falling behind. When you work for eight hours, where are you supposed to go afterwards? The worst thing is, if you haven't got a postcode, you can't get a doctor.

When I found myself walking around town, I made new friends with other homeless guys. One of them introduced me to the Big Issue. I've been selling it in the city centre for 18 months. I don't give people a sob story. If someone walks by, I'll say "Big Issue?", and if they say "No", I say, "Have a nice day." Even if people swear at me, I'll say "Have a nice day." No word of a lie - a few days later those people who've had a bad day will come back and buy a mag off me.

I have two daughters, aged four and one. The elder girl's mother judges the cover before opening the book and it is difficult to visit. But I regularly spend time with my one-year-old. If it is sunny, I can take her to feed the ducks, but if it is pouring with rain I can't be walking the streets with her. Someone suggested I go to a library with her but I can't take a one-year-old there.

Yesterday, though, I got the keys to a one-bedroom flat in Birmingham. The only reason it has finally paid off is because I've accessed all the services like the Big Issue. The foundation has given me support, telling me what I have to do to get a flat. I hope to go back to college. The flat is halfway between my two daughters. It means I have somewhere to take them.

John, 49 Norwich

I studied history at Oxford from 1975-78, then worked in marketing at Monsanto for five years before joining Extel, broadcasting horse racing from tracks to betting shops. I was already a heavy drinker in my mid-20s, and by my late-20s it was completely out of control. I used alcohol as an escape valve from pressures in my social and working life, but it is the worst escape valve you can have.

By my mid-30s, I'd lost everything - my job, my home, my marriage. I was living in a Salvation Army hostel in Poplar, east London. Then I came up to Norwich. It was just a dart in a map to make a new start. I got some part-time jobs, and when I was there I was good. But when I was drinking, I just went missing, and I continued to lose jobs as a result. When I was working, I lived in shared flats; when I was out of work, I slept rough.

But there is a good end to my story. I'm just over 14 and a half months sober now. I've had amazing help from Norfolk Community Alcohol Service; I attend AA regularly, I live in a housing association bedsit, and I have a wonderfully supportive partner called Trudy. I have also been selling the Big Issue for the past 18 months, and that has transformed my life.

When I started with the Big Issue, I was a degenerate, incontinent wreck. Selling the magazine has given me something to do to fill my time and allowed me to participate in the community. It's not the money I make that's important, as I might only sell 10 copies a day; it's having a function. I have 25 to 30 regulars who come every week. They have supported and encouraged me, and we've become friends.

From my pitch in London Street, 200 yards from Norwich cathedral, I've come into contact with a number of teachers in local schools who have invited me to participate in drug and alcohol awareness education. That has fired my enthusiasm to work in teaching and this week I'm starting a PGCE at Norwich City College to teach adult numeracy and literacy.

Selling the magazine has allowed me to come out of myself; to stand up and have some self-respect. It's given me a chance to get my life back. At 49 I didn't think there was any future for me. Now I feel there is a future ahead. Two years ago I attempted suicide. Luckily, it didn't work, and I'm bloody glad it didn't.

Jimmy, 58 Newcastle

I was born in Gateshead and I've lived in the north-east all my life. Gateshead hasn't changed much - it's still the same rough place. I used to have a house but it was a rough area and I got sick of people breaking my windows. The council didn't do anything about it. I had a nervous breakdown but the doctor didn't give me any treatment for it. I gave up on the house and started sleeping in the park.

I got a flat in Gateshead but last year the authorities sent officials round while I was away. They changed the locks and did £100 worth of damage. They said I hadn't paid my rent. I was paying the rent but they said they didn't get it. I'm now staying on the floor of a friend's house until I can get things sorted out. It can be difficult not having a home. I like my independence but you can't always get it.

I have been selling the Big Issue for years. If it is a good issue I can sell about 100, but it depends. I spend the money I make on food - I don't take drugs. I don't even smoke. All sorts buy the magazine - well-to-do people, businessmen, black people, Chinese, local councillors. I prop the magazine on my arm and just say, "Do you want to buy a Big Issue, madam?" I don't hassle people. Some people get nasty and say "Look at him" or "Get a job" then they call you names when they walk past. It can be hard. But the best bit is when you get a nice smile or a nice laugh.

James, 45 Glasgow

I've been selling the Big Issue on and off for the last 12 or 13 years, since the very beginning. Before that I had a house, a wife and kids, but we separated and I ended up on the streets. It was terrible. I was sleeping anywhere I could. You've no privacy, no money. People look down on you like a piece of garbage. But I met a couple of guys who helped me out, and I ended up moving to a hostel. That's where I heard about the Big Issue.

I never thought I would be homeless, but it could happen to anybody. Before this I was an apprentice upholsterer, did removals, and worked in the building trade. It's been brilliant selling the Big Issue, though. It gives you a lifeline - independence, money, food and a roof over your head. Once in a while I can afford to go to a wee bed and breakfast.

You feel embarrassed at first trying to get people to buy it, but then you get used to it. There's nothing else you can do. I don't need to ask anybody now 'cos I have quite a few regulars. They all know I'm here so it's really good. I can just stand outside Marks & Spencer and chat to my customers. At first people were too intimidated to stop and take the magazine, but it's just like selling a newspaper.

Right now I'm trying to find a house of my own. I'm 45 now so there's not much chance of me getting a good job. It's OK though. I've met a lot of famous people doing this - footballers, actors, even Rab C Nesbitt came by once. The hardest thing is that you're on your feet all day, standing constantly in the same spot. But I don't whinge. I get used to it. At least I'm doing something to help myself.

Paddy, 39 Egham, Surrey

Low points? I never think like that. Life can only get better, and I've got the energy to go. I've been in Egham for two or three months. Before that it was Kingston, Guildford, all over, then I heard there was a free pitch here, outside the Tesco. I'm up at six every morning, and I work all day. I work seven days a week, rain, hail or snow.

I'm from Belfast. I came over here for a two- week holiday and I stayed. It was the time of the troubles in Belfast, so it seemed a good idea. My ex-partner used to drink, so I ended up on the street. This was 87. I stayed in hostels, hotels, with friends. But the reason I didn't keep staying in the hostels was the drink and the drugs. I don't drink, smoke, do drugs. Now I'm waiting for a flat. I stay with friends, or my ex-girlfriend, and I can go to the day centre and take a shower. I have family - four brothers, four sisters. I can go back and stay with them but I want to make a life for myself.

I'm one of the first Big Issue sellers - I've sold it since the start, all over the country. I've worked for the Big Issue, too, opening the pitches, doing inductions for new sellers, showing them how the Big Issue works, explaining to them things. Like if you're on the streets and you come into the Big Issue, you need a letter from the day centre to say you're homeless, and I take them to the training pitch in the West End.

Business has been up and down. I have a lot of people who don't buy the magazine but give me the money, they'll say they've bought it somewhere else but "get yourself a coffee". People are really nice. I usually sell between 100 and 200 copies a day. I've had footballers, boxers, TV stars - Frank Bruno, Alex Higgins, Ronnie O'Sullivan. I used to see Chris Evans every day. Nice guy.

I want to have a little business, I want to sell fast food, teas, coffees, sandwiches, so when my kids leave school they can come and work for me - I don't want them getting into drugs. I've got three kids - a set of twins, two girls, they're 15, and a boy, he's three and a half. They're fine about their dad being a Big Issue seller. It's a proper job, I'm up in the morning, at the day care centre having a shave, then off to work. I'm respectable. I'm going to give it another year selling the Big Issue, then I'm going to start my business. But I am going to do it. I am. You gotta make things happen.

Richard, 33 Nottingham

I'm from Derby originally and I've been homeless, on and off, for four years since I fell out with the girlfriend. We moved into a house together but it didn't work out so I moved out and into a hostel. My family don't live in the area - they are in Ripley, North Yorkshire, and my brother is living in London. I sell the Big Issue from a patch on Bridlesmith, one of the main shopping streets in the centre of Nottingham. I work there in the afternoons, seven days a week. Saturday is the best day, when things are busy with all the shoppers. The magazine sells itself. If people want it, they want it. I don't like to push it on them. All kinds of people buy it - office people, students, even teenagers. You get the whole range, depending on what's on the cover.

Most people are pretty friendly. It is very rare to get hassle, but sometimes you do just get general things like people saying "Get a job." But this is a job. You are selling a magazine to customers. I'm not claiming dole because I think I'm earning enough just to support myself on this. I also get food from the Big Issue organisation.

It is hard to describe to people what it feels like to be homeless and it is certainly hard to understand how it feels if you have a home. Since becoming homeless, I have been in and out of work with construction jobs. I have got my first year in City & Guilds in joinery and carpentry and my last job was a three-month contract on a building site. I haven't got any fixed plans but I want to get back into work - anything in construction - and get on with my life. Normally, the first step is to get your footing - if you get your place right, then it is easier to get a job. And it is hard to get a job if you don't have an address.

Gareth, 28 Cardiff

I'm originally from the West Country. After school I worked in heating and ventilation, but I was made redundant when the company went bust. For the next couple of years I worked as a printer. I met a girl called Catherine, and we were together for four years. It was a tricky break-up - she left me for my best mate, and we have a daughter who's now three years old. I was made redundant from my job at a helicopter company about the same time. I came to Cardiff to get away from it all, because I just couldn't handle it.

I didn't mean to be homeless, though. I came to look for my mother's side of the family, hoping to stay with them. But they'd all moved away. So I ended up on the streets for about a month and a half. It wasn't frightening. It was a bit of life experience - hardened me up a bit. I learned how to survive. For the previous four to five years I'd had everything on a plate - I was in a relationship, I had a job, I wasn't worried for anything. And then all of a sudden, bang - nothing.

One of the guys I was crashing with was selling the Big Issue. He introduced me to it and I've been selling them ever since. I've been given my own pitch in the city centre, because I sell so many - about 35 a day. I don't have a particular patter - I just say "Big Issue, sir?" or "Big Issue, madam?" I think I look approachable. The best thing about my job is I can watch the women go past every day. The worst thing is people's prejudice towards me. They know nothing about me, they don't know where I've come from, they don't know what qualifications I've had, they know nothing about my life, but because I sell the Big Issue they turn their noses up and brand me a drug user.

At the moment I'm taking it day by day, because I'm still hurting about what's happened to me in the last couple of years. I'm not dealing with it too well, to be honest. I do hope to get a job of some description in the future, but for the moment this will keep me going. And actually I enjoy doing it. I get up in the morning and look forward to going out there all day and having a bit of a laugh. I've made good friends with some of the vendors, and I've got some regular customers who buy a copy every week. They take the time to talk to me and find out about me, and they understand.

But I do wish people wouldn't judge me. What does £1.40 hurt, to help me out and put a smile on my face? When I've really got nothing. All it's doing is putting food in my stomach, and clothes on my back. And buying a Thornton's double choc ice cream. That's my treat for the day

· Interviews by Tomi Ajayi, Patrick Barkham, Laura Barton Aida Edemariam and Stephen Moss.