£30k in the red and the offers kept coming

It may be a cliche, but hanging and ropes spring to mind.
A man I interviewed today was forced to go bankrupt, along with his wife, after getting so deeply in debt that his monthly payments exceeded his total income.
Aged 62, and suffering from a catalogue of chronic illnesses - including asbestosis, angina, diabetes and osteoarthritis - the former decorator slipped £30,000 into debt over a period of four years.
The cash wasn't used for extravagent Colleen-style shopping trips. Just for topping up their benefits, adapting their home for a disabled daughter, and a new three-piece suite.
They took out loans to pay off credit cards, bought things on hire purchase, and got clobbered on interest. And the bigger the debt became, the more offers they got from high-street lenders.
The terms 'interest' and 'APR' meant nothing to them. Eventually the payments got too much, and the couple was advised to file for bankruptcy.
The hangover continues for the thousands of people seduced into taking out loans and credit cards to create that illusion of the perfect Christmas. Almost a third take six months to clear the debt.
The next three weeks are the busiest of the year for services like Citizens Advice Bureau, which tries to pick up the pieces for those sucked into crisis.
Inevitably, those who are hit the hardest are the people who can least afford it. Credit interest rates are higher for low-earners than those from richer areas, and the poorest are driven into the arms of unscrupulous doorstep lenders.
While debt spirals out of control across the country, debt services in Manchester are facing cuts through funding problems.
Like Victim Support, law centres and other similar organisations, CAB is chasing an ever-decreasing pot of money.
The Manchester bureau has been forced to shut its central office and close its helpline. There is no outreach cover whatsoever in the North of the city.

It all makes me wonder about the excesses of western society and our thirst for instant gratification. Why is it we all use gadgets, fashion and stuff we don't need (and often can't afford) as a comfort blanket which somehow says something about who we are? How far are people prepared to go in their quest for acceptance (and that celebrity lifestyle)?
Travelling in India a couple of years ago was an education in this respect. The friendliest, and seemingly happiest people we met were the poorest - rickshaw drivers, porters and the like.
The one posh restaurant we went to - where prices were on a par with an average curryhouse here - was full of obnoxious, flashy, boasting businesspeople.
Yet even there, everyone wanted to live like Westerners. We've created a monster, an insatiable thirst for stuff, and each thing people buy inevitably makes them want more. I am as guilty as the next person - perhaps more so because I know it's distasteful but am not strong enough to fight it.
I regularly buy records and books, which for all my snobbiness are no more honourable than Prada bags or sweatshop-made Primark jeans. Sadly, it seems that unless you're prepared to opt out of society entirely, there is no way to escape the obsession for consumerism. Clearly I should just shut up and get shopping.