Back in 2016, I wrote a book called A Site for Sore Eyes in the immediate aftermath of the Didcot A Power Station collapse. I gave the profits of that book to three of the four bereaved families impacted by that tragedy (the fourth family politely declined). I sold more books overseas than I sold here including many to people that were barely able to read English. They didn’t buy the book to read it. They bought it as a demonstration of unity.

When I was threatened in my own home over something I had written, I received dozens of phone calls, emails and text messages. The majority of those came from outside of the UK.

I can find myself at a conference or exhibition in Italy, Germany, Spain or Sweden. Even though I don’t speak the local language, I get by because – like my hosts – I speak the universal language of demolition and construction.

There is a reason for all these things. Construction – and, by association – demolition – is a global brotherhood (sorry ladies. I didn’t name it). Within that brotherhood, we all speak the same language, regardless of where we come from. And there is an unwritten understanding that if you attack one man or one woman in this industry, you attack us all.

Which goes some way to explaining why what is happening in the US right now cuts so deep and feels so personal, even though it is happening thousands of miles away.

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There is a story about England’s World Cup winning captain Bobby Moore. During a training session, the England coach – Sir Alf Ramsey – yelled HALT and everyone froze in their positions. Without looking around, Bobby Moore knew precisely where everyone was; his own players and opposing players alike. It is said that his exceptional peripheral vision allowed him to see and pre-empt attacks even before they began, making him the supreme defender.

Jamaican sprinter Usain Bolt had a unique genetic makeup that contributed to his astonishing physical attributes, such as muscle composition and body structure. For example, he had a high proportion of fast-twitch muscle fibres, which are crucial for explosive speed and power. The fact that he was six feet five and made almost entirely of legs didn’t hurt either.

American swimmer Michael Phelps arms extend an incredible 80 inches tip to tip. He is also double-jointed, his ,size-14 feet reportedly bend 15 degrees farther at the ankle than most other swimmers, turning his feet into virtual flippers.

But, in addition to these physical attributes, Bolt, Phelps and Moore shared one common ability that truly set them apart from their peers. Focus. A single-minded determination that allowed them to be the world’s fastest man, the greatest ever Olympian, and the first and only English man to hold the Jules Rimet trophy aloft.

Each of them operated and excelled in their respective fields of endeavour without distraction. Unlike the modern machine operator.

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The cab of a modern demolition or construction machine is a model of ergonomic excellence; a soundproofed, dust-suppressed, wi-fi connected, Bluetooth-enabled paradise built around a seat more comfortable than anything you might find in a typical home.

These is a place for everything; and everything is in its place. Each joystick is perfectly within reach and contoured to fit snugly in the human hand. Each button is pleasingly tactile; each in-cab display intuitive, easy to navigate and well-positioned.

And yet, the way in which those cabs are viewed and perceived by those that occupy them varies wildly from man to man, machine to machine, site to site and project to project.

To some, that cab is a haven; to others a Hell. It is either a silo or a sanctuary.

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It’s late. You’re on your way home after a tough week. The motorway zooms past in a blur as headlights bounce off the rain-slicked tarmac, causing you to squint your eyes.

You’re concentrating on the road ahead, on getting yourself home safely. But there’s something else playing on your mind. You’re thinking about the hydraulic hose that went pop mid-morning. That cost you £98.00 because, yet again, your company doesn’t have an account.

The receipt is still in the glovebox. Your bank balance is in the red. Your mortgage is due in four days. And you know that you won’t be reimbursed immediately because it’s the weekend.

This isn’t about wages. This is about the money you spend to keep your company moving. The cash that leaves your hands, your debit cards, your overdrafts. Money you may never see again.

These are companies turning over millions. Multinationals. Firms with slick logos and websites full of waffle about sustainability. But behind the curtain? It’s lads like you buying the f**king milk.

Let’s talk about that, shall we?

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We squandered a once in a lifetime opportunity. We. Us. The British public, the world, society. We had a chance, and we threw it away.

The COVID-19 pandemic and more specifically, the ensuing lockdowns, should have served as a societal reset.

Kept apart from family and friends, that period reminded us all of the importance of community, and of social interaction. When the chips were down, many of us rallied to support vulnerable neighbours. We collectively gave thanks to the medical profession; the doctors and nurses risking their lives to save ours. That surreal time also afforded us a glimpse behind the political curtain. Politicians were no more prepared for a global pandemic than we were; they were making it up as they went along; and they had no intention of following the rules that they implemented.

Through it all, we were united. We were all in the same boat – leaky and rudderless – together. That was our opportunity. We could have clung on to that feeling of community and society; we could have maintained the Dunkirk Spirit that got us all through; and we could’ve demanded better, fairer and more transparent government.

But we didn’t. With the lockdown over, we quickly went back to “every man for himself”. Rather than bringing us together, it seems that we are now more divided than ever. People, society. We are all even more self-absorbed, self-centred, selfish and loathsome that we were before.

In place of a great reset, we now have the same as before. Only worse.

Sadly, the UK demolition industry has also squandered an opportunity to start over. In fact, it has done so not once, but twice.

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