Real life on Benefits Street - How hard can it be to find work?

Like millions sat at home I looked at those on Benefits Street and asked just what they were doing wrong to not even come close to getting a job.

At least father of two Mark and aspiring model SB had the aspiration to peel themselves from the couch for a better life for their children.

But what about the others? Was it so hard to get a job? Or was it that those stuck in the culture of benefits living had it too comfortable?

• Real life on Benefits Street - My week on notorious James Turner Street

• Part two: Tourists flock for taste of life on Benefits Street

I went to James Turner Street armed with a bucket, a sponge, and a bottle of washing up liquid determined to earn money. I was offering £1 to clean a car. Just 100 pence, and I felt confident I'd at least make £20 quid by the end of the week.

I'd seen the 50p man Smoggy struggle to sell his gear, but I wanted to prove there was a success story to be told on James Turner Street.

There were hundreds of houses on the road and double that amount on nearby Perrott Street and Eva Road, so all I needed was to wash four cars a day. Easy. It was just hovering above freezing so I felt confident no-one wanted to be outside scrubbing their cars in that weather. And if that was the case, I'd do it and for a bargain price. I didn't have to wait long to wash my first car either.

A man seemed so content with me washing his motor he even handed me the keys to clean the inside. I was expecting him to come out, take one look and say '£1? What a rip off,' but to my surprise he handed me £2. If that wasn't enough he asked how often I cleaned cars down the street before adding 'come back in two weeks and you can wash it again'.

My business had its first client.

Foolishly I thought that would set the tone for the rest of my week.

Had that been the case, my £20 target was on track. But as more and more doors along the length of James Turner Street were slammed in my face my optimism grew weary.

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In the time I spent on Benefits Street I was to wash one more car, taking my grand sum to £3. Three whole pound in a week. I couldn't even get a pint down my local for that much. As I wandered to a nearby shop I found out why I was struggling to attract businesses. Directly behind James Turner Street was a jet wash charging £2.50.

'Maybe they have jobs', I thought.

Seeking a chance I went in and asked if they had any going. A man, sat on an upturned bucket, replied: "Have you done car washing before?."

I told him I had worked door-to-door. "Ok. Have you worked with jet washes and chemicals before?" he asked. Did an 89p bottle of washing liquid count? "Sorry, you need experience and it would take too long to train you," he said.

I clearly hadn't aced the interview and who would think despite A-levels, a university degree and a college diploma I would lack the qualification to clean a two-door hatchback.

It was obvious that was the end of my career as a car washer in Winson Green. Shrugging off my setback I went out to find some more work close to Benefits Street.

A newspaper shop had a poster advertising 100s of jobs in the Midlands. Maybe they had work available. They didn't. My enquiry for a job was met with a look of shock from the shop keeper. It was to be a theme I was to get used to. Two off-licences close to James Turner Street produced similar results.

In the first I waited patiently for the shopkeeper to finish on the phone and asked if they had any work and was laughed at before he delivered a half-hearted 'sorry'. In the second, I asked if they needed an extra pair of hands to stack shelves. 'I have plenty of help' was the reply.

I was starting see how some residents of James Turner Street were struggling to even get an interview. In fact, after freezing my backside off traipsing around the streets of Winson Green getting snub after snub from businesses if someone had offered me the opportunity to sit on White Dee's sofa with a cuppa tea, I'd have taken it.

Still, I persevered – even after getting eye-balled by a hungry-looking Alsatian who was protecting its owner's roofing firm. I wasn't scared, I didn't want a job there anyway.

Fortunately for me there were a few factories close to James Turner Street. I must have enough qualifications to sweep a yard. Even Trigger off Only Fools and Horses cracked that job, God rest his soul.

I walked up to a couple of guys covered head to toe in grease, oil and muck from the factories. 'Any jobs going, mate?' I asked. The guy took one look at my jogging bottoms and Adidas trainers and said 'no' before turning his back and getting on with his work. I didn't even get a 'sorry'. I'll wear a suit and tie next time lads.

A short stroll down the road there was another scrap metal business. Two men were attempting to drag a car out of a shed using a forklift truck and chain.

I asked my question again. 'Sorry boss. We don't have any jobs and you won't find any around here', I was told. It certainly looked that way.

I had gone down to James Turner Street with the honest intention of making a living but after one week of knocking hundreds of doors and canvassing businesses in the area, I earned just £3.

That wasn't a wage that was going to put food on the table. Unless it was a Happy Meal.