A home is meant to be a place of safety, permanence, and security. It is the foundation upon which lives are built, a constant in a changing world. For thousands of residents in hundreds of post-war tower blocks across England, however, this fundamental promise is being tested in the most profound way imaginable. These buildings, constructed quickly and cheaply using a method called the Large Panel System (LPS), are at the centre of a quiet but escalating crisis; a crisis that could mean a surge in demand and workload for the UK’s demolition industry.

Following the Grenfell Tower tragedy, the new Building Safety Act is now forcing a long-overdue reckoning with the inherent structural risks of these specific buildings. The law mandates that the owners of these high-rises produce a detailed ‘building safety case,’ forcing them to confront structural risks that, in some cases, have been ignored for over half a century. For the social landlords who own them and the communities who call them home, this has created a set of nearly impossible choices where the financially viable, structurally safe, environmentally sound, and humane options are all in direct conflict.

This is the story of England’s other housing crisis, hidden in plain sight within the concrete fabric of our towns and cities. Here are five surprising truths that reveal the staggering complexity of the problem.

This article continues on Demolition Insider. Please use the link below to access this article FOR FREE.

A friend of mine – a local builder – was working alone once. He took off his hard hat to wipe away the sweat from his brow just as a big piece of timber fell from the roof of the building and hit him square on the head. He came round minutes or possibly hours later, felt the blood in his hair, and went back to work.

Another bloke I know was on a building being stripped. He knelt down to pick up some tools and managed to gash his knee quite badly on a piece of broken tile. He was sent to A&E; but when he found it busy, he decided to self-medicate, sticking the flaps of skin back together with Super Glue. He then returned to work.

And on one demolition site, an occupational nurse I know found cases of undiagnosed heart disease, undiagnosed liver disease, undiagnosed hearing loss. Each of them got their diagnosis and went straight back to work.

This article continues on Demolition Insider. Please use the link below to access this article FOR FREE.

Andy unlocks the gate just after six-fifteen, the yard silent in the hazy dawn light. A grey Ford sits where it always does in the car park, its driver’s door closed, ice criss-crossing the windscreen.

He pushes through the site office door and shudders. He didn’t expect it to be colder inside than outside. He’s not had to worry about it before.

He flicks on the tiny heater which slowly begin to spread some warmth and the familiar smell of burning dust through the portacabin.

Seven mugs sit unwashed in the sink from three days ago. From before the weekend. From before.

This article continues on Demolition Insider. Please use the link below to access this article FOR FREE.

In the UK, we often hear people saying that there is no incentive to work. We have a welfare state that was created to look after the needy and the vulnerable, but that system is widely exploited by the lazy and the feckless. At least according to the Daily Mail.

Whether or not that is true is open to debate. What is clear, however, is that we – as a nation – have knowingly disincentivised work. Even the most honest and hard-working are expected to jump through hoops, circumvent countless barriers and obstacles, and even pay for the privilege of earning a crust.

Here in the demolition and construction sector, that scenario plays out on a daily basis. In fact, it begins even before we can start work.

This article continues on Demolition Insider. Please use the link below to access this article FOR FREE.

“A rose by any other name would smell as sweet”. It’s a very famous line from Shakespeare’s Romeo & Juliet, and it basically means: It doesn’t matter what a thing is called; it doesn’t change what it is.

I was reminded of that line earlier this week when it was announced that construction equipment giant is planning to change its name to Landcros. More specifically, I was reminded of that line by the reaction of many in the industry to a transition from a name that is universally known and widely respected, to something that doesn’t even appear to be spelled correctly.

So, with nothing better to do, I decided to have a dig through corporate history for examples of where a name change proved to be a good thing; and a few where it didn’t.

This article continues on Demolition Insider. Please use the link below to access this article FOR FREE.