I recently battled for months to access mental health diagnosis/support for a family member.
I'm a mature, educated, sober, middle class woman with savings, a secure roof over my head and a support network of caring family and friends.
I can't stress this strongly enough IT NEARLY BROKE ME the struggle to get help. I was in tears and pretty much begging on my knees to the GP's receptionist before we eventually found the first glimmer of help.
I cannot believe how impossible getting any kind of help must be from a tent, on a high street, with mental health issues, no money, no support network and no access to the internet. You can't wash, you can't get warm, you don't know where your next meal will come from.
Last night I took a hot drink and a Mars bar to the chap who sometimes sleeps in our church porch. He talks to himself like he's two people in one having a conversation with himself, all the time, day and night, even when he's talking to me. He's such a nice, polite man. I've never seen him drinking, I don't think he's on drugs (but I wouldn't really know). He's just not in his right mind and needs help. The police know he's there. Social services know he's there. Our lovely lady vicar knows he's there as do all the well off, well-connected people in our tidy houses in our nice little bit of the city. He's still there and he has nothing. If he can't get help then what hope others?
Suella Braverman has a cold, hard heart and no regard for the quality of life of her fellow humans.