On a cold Monday in late November, an email appears in your inbox.

The message purports to be from a long lost cousin. He’s asking you for money. Nothing new there – you receive 20 or 30 spam emails a day asking if you can send some outrageous sum of money to a bank in Nigeria in order to claim your inherited wealth from your dying distant relative. Somehow, though, this email is different, and you can’t quite think why.

The specifics of the email shed little further light. Your ‘long lost cousin’, who calls himself Al, has landed himself in a spot of debt. Nearly £25,000 of debt, in fact. He’s asking you to pay it back for him, but there’s something ominous about his tone. Confused, but unwilling to spend any more time on the matter, you shake your head and ignore the email. You throw it in your spam folder and you forget about it.

Until you receive a phone call.

The phone call is from a bank. They’re after the £25,000 your cousin owes. Straight away, you tell them to sod off – it’s not your debt, after all, it’s Al’s. You haven’t spent more than you can afford, you haven’t borrowed and failed to pay it back. It’s not your debt. Besides, you can’t afford to suddenly spend £25,000, you have bills to pay. Al’s debt is not your fault, you insist, and it’s not your problem.

Ahh, they say, but you did spend all that money. Al got into all that debt by constantly donating money to the local council – it’s because of Al’s debt that your bins were taken away in a timely manner. It’s because of Al that you were kept safe by the police. Thanks to Al, your local school has been able to provide your children with education. You spent Al’s money, and now you have to pay for it. What’s more, the bank insist, if you refuse they have the power to have you incarcerated.

“But I didn’t ask him to spend all that money!” you cry. Furious and indignant you flatly refuse to agree to paying the money – it wasn’t your decision to give the council all that money, and regardless, all the police officers seem to have been replaced with impotent PCSOs, the bin collections have gone down to every other week and the local school’s standards have dropped through the floor to the point where they’re turning out children who can barely speak, let alone write. If you’re going to pay off all of Al’s debt, shouldn’t the bank force Al to justify the wasteful way he spent it in the first place?

None of that matters, says the bank. Somebody has to pay for it, and that somebody is you. Exasperated, isolated and humiliated, you try your last defence: “Why is it me that’s paying all this”, you say. “Won’t anybody else share the burden?”

But they already are doing. Al isn’t just your cousin, he’s everybody’s cousin. He hasn’t just spent £25,000, he’s spent £1,000,000,000,000. One Trillion Pounds Sterling. Twenty Five Thousand Pounds for every single person aged between 15 and 65 years old in the entire United Kingdom. Now, together, we have to pay all of Al’s money back with interest, and there is absolutely nothing anybody can do about it.

How would that make you feel?


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