This week, Broadstairs columnist Melissa Todd explores the devastating impact of ‘no-fault evictions’ which can leave long-term tenants homeless with little warning.

“You get served a Section 21 - well, that’s it. Your life’s over.”

Gordon was served a Section 21 eviction notice on February 29, and given ten weeks to leave his Broadstairs home. He moved here in 2019, having spent 20 years as a “property guardian” in London.

“Essentially, being a property guardian is a form of commercialised squatting. Instead of paying a security guard, they have people move into empty buildings. I’ve lived in hospitals, offices, colleges. It was fun for a while. But there’s no security or safety. You never know when you’ll be told to move on. I wanted somewhere to settle permanently. And a mate of mine suggested Thanet.”

He found a flat for £550 a month. The flats, in a small block, possessed the spirit and ambience of a genuine community. All his neighbours looked out for one another, particularly during Covid. Gordon started training to be a therapist, while working as a gardener, and photographer.

“At the beginning, it felt like perfection. But then the complaints started. First, the landlord complained about my plants: I had several potted plants on the balcony. She said they were too dense, that they needed to be off the ground. Fine, I said. I made shelves from some spare decking. She still complained. Eventually I had to give them to a friend to look after, leave the balcony bare.”

On February 21 Gordon was visited for a flat inspection, by a property agent with a camera strapped round her neck, recording their interaction.

“She insinuated I had a mental health problem because of the number of books I own! I’m a trainee therapist. I know about mental health issues. The whole visit felt intrusive and intimidating. I put in a subject access request for the footage. It was refused.”

“Having a home should be a human right. It shouldn’t be left to the market…”

Eight days later, he was given notice to quit, with no reason given.

“It feels like someone can just end your life on the most petty, spiteful grounds. They have all the power. I have none.”

Section 21 is a controversial component of the Housing Act 1988. It allows a landlord to evict their tenant without providing a reason, and is often referred to as a “no fault” eviction. The tenant must be given two months’ notice, although this was increased during the Covid pandemic.

There has often been talk of abolishing the Section, given the insecurity and stress it causes renters, although so far the political will to make the change has been absent. Many politicians are also landlords. The Renters Reform Bill, mentioned in the Queen’s speech in 2019, outlined the intention to abolish Section 21, but a timeframe has yet to be established.

If you get served with a Section 21 and try to find another rental property, it’s often regarded a black mark against you, even though Gordon has a reference to say he’s never been late with his rent. And you try finding a flat in Broadstairs that costs £550 a month now. Try finding a flat in Broadstairs at all. The only one I could find on Rightmove asked £1200.

Gordon’s story is one of many heartbreaking tales I’ve heard since I wrote about Airbnbs. Single mothers with tiny children told to get out; elderly people being turned out of homes they’ve created and loved over decades. The possibility of Section 21 being abolished this year means many landlords hurrying to evict tenants while they still can.

“Homes and cities have become commodities, not places to live, not basic human rights. Central London now is essentially a theme park, and plenty of other places are going the same way, Thanet among them. They cater for tourists, not residents. They’ve become homogenised, curated. But who has the right to a town? What are they for? Who gets to live there? Currently there’s nothing to cater for the folk who actually want to make a life here. Where are we meant to go?”

Gordon will be sofa-surfing for the next week or two, before moving into a spare room in his ex’s house in Ramsgate. I ask him how he thinks the housing crisis can be solved.

“We need something radical and visionary. Something we can all believe in. But from 1979, we as a country have been groomed. Groomed to accept the unacceptable.

“Having a home should be a human right. It shouldn’t be left to the market. Housing co-ops should be encouraged, and people should become involved in their tenancies, to feel they have power and rights. We need more transparency and democracy. We need to remind the council they are meant to represent us, not moneyed outside interests.

“I try to see the positives in my situation, because otherwise it could break me. As a therapist it’s been a useful lesson, how losing your home makes you feel. And I tell you, it makes you feel unimportant, dismissed, unconsidered: that nothing is safe, everything is precarious. I’m 55 this year. Is this what my life’s amounted to, really? Is it my fault? Should I have lived my life differently?

“Effectively it’s a way of demonstrating that everything you’ve built doesn’t matter. All that matters is smashing you and maximising profit.”