Life on job street

An undercover reporter witnessed building firms hiring immigrants illegally to dodge tax, National Insurance and even health and safety regulations.

The Home Office pledged to launch an inquiry into our findings.

Scores of desperate illegal workers gather every day in an area nicknamed "Job Street" to be picked up for work.

Many of the builders who take the men on do not ask for papers to prove they can work legally.

Our reporter was put to work on a building site without essential safety equipment or training. He worked all day for £50, and learned that some employers try to haggle the illegals down to as little as £25 - only 75 per cent of the minimum wage.

The Home Office admits the numbers of illegal workers could run into hundreds of thousands. Estimates of how much is lost to the Exchequer in taxes and National Insurance runs into hundreds of millions of pounds.

The building sector's smaller businesses are among leading users of illegal workers, but the Home Office warned anyone employing them that they face prosecution.

A spokeswoman said: "We take the issue extremely seriously. We look forward to receiving the Standard's dossier."

It is 5.30am, and I am one of the first would-be workers at the junction of Cricklewood Broadway and Chichele Road. Half an hour later there are about 40. Most are young men, but some are as old as 50. They hang around in groups, chatting in Polish or Russian.

They are unshaven, sleepy-eyed with tousled hair, and dressed in old trousers and shirts that look as if they have not been washed in a while. Most carry a plastic bag with their boots, gloves, helmet and sandwiches inside. A few have bought cups of tea or coffee from the café ²ound the corner.

I get talking to two young Polish men from a small town near Wroclaw. Their names are Jacek and Andrzej, they have been in Britain five weeks and haven't been able to find a job. This is their first time in Cricklewood, and they don't know who they should be asking for work. Their friends have told them that employers come here in vans looking to take people on. Anyhow, they have their work clothes and helmets with them, just in case. But they are desperate. If they don't get a job today, they say, they will go back to Poland.

Suddenly, everything starts happening. A couple of vans turn up, and some of the men get in without any preamble. It's clearly a regular job for them. Perhaps they are legals. Others walk up and down nervously, trying to talk to the drivers. They don't have any luck.

I try chatting to another bunch of Poles with strong-looking builders' arms. They appear confident, and it is obvious that they have been here before. But they aren't happy talking about it to me. I am competition.

They eventually loosen up and give me a few tips about finding work. Get a good, strong pair of boots, they say, with metal toecaps. They also tell me that the police sometimes turn up, and you have to run away. If it looks like they are going to catch you, you should throw away the bag with all your work things. They also tell me that the two big employers won't be taking anyone on today. I could try going to the Chichele Road corner, but that's just used by small employers or people looking for someone to work on their homes. The police often go there, apparently, so it's not very safe.

One of those seeking workers is an impatient-looking man of about 50 in shorts and a blue polo shirt. Jacek, Andrzej and I ask him for a job, and he asks us if we have National Insurance and what kind of visas we've got. We tell him we have student visas and he tells us to come back in a few days. We look enviously at the 15 men in his vans who will be working today.

I speak to Jan, 21, who arrived this year from Albania. He said he has been turning up here every day for months and always gets work, usuallylabouring on a building site. "I never have any problems because I look strong, but some of the older ones wait for hours before they are picked up by the British men in the vans. I normally get about £25 to £40 a day, but occasionally I've made £70."

By now everyone is getting edgy. We run up the hill because two new vans have turned up, but their owners have already found everyone they need.

We try going over to Chichele Road, where a few men from Albania and former Yugoslavia are waiting. A white VW van is parked there, and the driver needs two people. He is offering £50 a day. I think about it too long and one of the Albanians gets into the van.

Soon after, a green Mitsubishi pickup arrives. The driver wants two people, and I get in, along with one of the Albanians. After he sets off we ask him what kind of a job it is. Demolition, he says, in Mill Hill.

We introduce ourselves. The boss is Tony, the Albanian Nico. I say I am Richard. After a short drive we arrive at an old Jewish school where we have to help pull down one of the buildings. They give us yellow jackets, but no gloves or helmets. Our job is to separate the wood, the metal and the rubbish.

The sun is really hot and there is dust everywhere. My clothes are soaked with sweat and the dust makes me itch intensely. We have to be careful not to get hit by the excavating machine operating just a metre away from us. Nails are a real problem. They are everywhere, and before long my hands are covered with cuts. After an hour of this I feel I have had enough, but I carry on. You soon learn to work like a robot. You don't have to think - just work.

At 10am we get a break. Lying on the grass I chat to the Albanian, who complains about the heat, the job, London. He tells me he came here six years ago with his wife and three children. He was given asylum and has a job as a roofer. His boss is on holiday at the moment, so he decided to go and get some other work. He plans to return home in a year.

We go back to work. Whenever we slacken the pace, the man operating the digger points at us. He doesn't say anything, he just points. His face is set like stone. It doesn't move at all. Eventually it is 5pm, and our long day is done. Tony walks over and rather furtively hands over our £50.

Next day I am back in Job Street, where I meet up with Jacek and Andrzej. They tell me they both managed to get work yesterday, although Andrzej had to haggle with the man who employed him. In the end he got £35. Jacek's boss gave him £50, and told him he could have several days' work. He was told he could bring a friend, so the two of them go off together today.

I wait. Several vans come and go. A white Transit pulls up with a young man looking for roofers, but he doesn't find anybody and drives off. Eventually another white Transit turns up. The driver wants two men, and two get in. After that, no more. Today, I'm not wanted.