Well, my family was quite poor from the time Thatcher came into power, and started reforms, to almost the time New Labour got in (almost from mid 1980's to 1997).
Her, and her idotic, moronic, bastardic reforms caused the biggest recession in UK history, and is the reason I hate the Conservative Party, fully support the welfare state, and I'm a "Maggie, today we celebrate because we're one day closer to your death" person.
Anyway, my dad, an air conditioning installer, was laid off. Along with thousands of others, mostly miners (which eventually led to Britain coming to a standstill). Anyway, because The Queen of Ice, in her wisdom, hadd decided to disassemble the welfare state, they not nothing, not a penny.
And then they instituted a Poll Tax, a flat rate payed tot he council, irregardless of whether your house is a palace, or a two room apartment (guess which my parents had?).
Anyway, my parents were unable to pay. They dragged my dad into court (and he had to take us into there while he took the stand to testify, me and my little brother, him having only just been born (this would have been 1991)), and he was told prior to testifying by the court-person that whatever he did, he could not plead not-guilty/refuse to pay.
My dad was called up, amid dozens of other unemployed people in the very same situation, and was asked how he pled.
His answer was quite simply "I do not recognise the authority of this court".
At this point, all the other people being tried roared in approval and support. The judge had to calm them down.
Once again, he asked my dad how he pled. My dad again sad, quite simply "I do not recognise the authority of this court", and again there was uproar.
I'm so proud of him
Anyway, the judge said that because my dad was unemployed, and therefore unable to pay, a bailiff would come on a weekly/monthly basis, and reposess a sum to the value of the tax (I think it was a tenner a week, not allowing for today's inflation).
My parents got to know the Bailiff by name, and were quite friendly, and he'd have a cup of tea with them every week, as he came to take their stuff away.
Through the miracles of scrounging, and makin deals, my parents eventually ot their hands on an old, malfunctioning black-and white TV set. They had it in the room, but it didn't have a remote control. Because the set was dodgy, the sound would occasionally go VERY, VERY LOUD AT RANDOM INTERVALS. The only way to fix it was the big wooden pole they had in their room, which they'd use to smack the TV into submission, while sitting.
Anyway, things got up since 1997, and now we have money :gooodjob: