Eight years ago, Michael Carroll was called the “lotto lout.”
A binman from Norfolk, Carroll stunned the nation when he won £9.7 million on the National Lottery in 2002. But by 2010, it was all gone—and he was back working in a biscuit factory to pay rent.
Now, at 41, he’s once again clocking in for minimum wage shifts while the fortune that could have changed everything is nothing but a headline from a different life.
“I didn’t blow it—I let it burn,” Carroll told The Mirror in a recent interview. “It was like petrol on a fire. I just stood and watched.”
His descent was fast, loud, and public.
Within months of his win, Carroll had purchased a £325,000 mansion—only to turn it into a nonstop party pad. Reports from The Sun described wild nights, broken windows, and entire rooms filled with empty beer cans.
He also bought a fleet of sports cars, hired private drivers, took luxury holidays, and handed out cash to friends like it was candy. “I gave away £4 million in two years,” he told The Times. “I thought that made me a good person.”
But it didn’t last.
By 2005, Carroll was being sued, fined, and investigated. His gambling habits were spiraling—he once admitted to placing £1,000 bets daily on horses he couldn’t name.
He even made headlines after being banned from nearly every bookmaker in his town for threatening staff during losing streaks.
“I had cash, but no clue,” he said. “No one tells you what to do with millions when you’ve never had ten quid spare in your life.”
As debts piled up, Carroll started selling off his assets. The cars were first. Then the mansion. Then the jewelry, watches, and leftover properties in Scotland.
By 2010, he was officially broke.
He applied for a job at a biscuit factory in Elgin and moved into a rented two-bedroom flat. “Best decision I ever made,” he says now. “That job saved me. It gave me purpose.”
His story quickly became cautionary lore across the UK. Financial experts and tabloids alike have referenced Carroll’s name when talking about “lottery ruin,” a psychological phenomenon where sudden wealth leads to poor choices and social isolation.
The Guardian published a piece citing studies that show up to 70% of big-money winners lose it all within five years.
Carroll’s story didn’t just confirm it—it embodied it.
And yet, he doesn’t wallow.
“I’m happier now than I was with all that money,” he said in a recent ITV interview. “Because I know who I am.”
That hasn’t stopped public fascination. A documentary crew is now filming his life post-lottery, set to air on Channel 4 later this year.
“I get people stopping me on the street asking if I regret it,” he said. “What’s the point? It happened. I lived it.”
Online, reactions are divided.
One viral post from @MoneyFailsUK read: “He could’ve built a business empire. Instead, he rebuilt the pub economy.”
Others are more sympathetic.
“I’d have done the same at 19,” wrote @Claire_LDN. “No one teaches working-class people how to have money. They just watch us crash.”
Now living quietly in Scotland, Carroll says he no longer plays the lottery. He gets up at 5AM, drinks instant coffee, and works 10-hour shifts. He’s paid off his debts. He’s sober. And he walks to work alone.
“No limo. No champagne. Just my boots and the cold,” he laughed. “It’s honest.”
As the camera crew packed up their final shots, Carroll looked out across the car park and shrugged.
“Maybe it was never about the money,” he said. “Maybe it was about learning what matters after it’s gone.”
