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@rpm
Brown. Everything in Wigan was brown. The mines, the sauce in the cafe down Market street, the redundant miners' faces, scrubbed clean now, but still wearing the tar of low self-esteem, shuffling around in the town centre, directionless like so many zombies... everything. Brown.
But nothing quite as brown as the noses of them at 'Town hall! no, nowt quite as brown as that. Even that bloody Alderman, aye he's so far up t'council's arse he can see out of it's nostrils!
William allowed himself the slight pleasure of a small chuckle at the picture in his mind and absently kicked out at a pile of fish bones at his feet. "Probably Cod" he exclaimed out loud. Soon enough though, his mood darkened and his fists clenched, he tore at the scrubby grass by his side where he sat and glowered with hatred down the hill towards the imposing redbrick building, "bastards!" he spat with venom, writhing and contorting, tears begining to stream down his heavily lined features, "fucking, fucking bastards!" the last word becoming a shrill scream, muted by frustration and exhaustion. William began to sob, he tilted and collapsed with grief onto his side, hands scratching the ground where he lay, prone and foetal, his body convulsing, wracked with the hopelessness of decades as the daylight faded and the sky darkened with the promise of more rain.