Ashington used to be a very depressing place. At one time the narrow footpaths between the back to back mining rows were full of dog [email protected] and litter, not to mention the permanent smell of urine from drunks who staggered home from the many working men’s clubs that plagued the town.
When the last coal mine closed and otherwise unemployable people found their money for beer and **** was in short supply, the clubs also began to close. The council began removing some of the back-to-back terraced houses to try and improve the area. It’s a pity they forgot to do something about the people. Nothing has changed. The council attend the town’s only damp cellar that is grandly called a nightclub where they sit on straw bales, plucking at banjos and singing songs about the good old days when Woolworth’s was open.
Some residents of Ashington have been outraged at how they are treated. There were many complaints from parents that schools were failing in their duty to teach the kids how to use a knife and fork. The price of tattoos has rocketed beyond what can be afforded on benefits – facial ‘job-stopper’ tattoos are now unaffordable for a large number of the east-end residents. Many of these poor people now find themselves having to inflict their own tattoos with a needle and a bottle of ink. If the educational system had been better they would have at least been able to spell some of the words properly. The system has let them down.
Swaying at 11am
The government’s tax related to the alcohol content in alcoholic drink and the increased tax on cigarettes has made life even more difficult for the unfortunate no-hopers. It has become necessary for many to spend their benefit rent allowance on super strength lager and imported bootleg baccy. Anyone who can stand drunk and swaying at 11am in the town centre is one of the fortunate few.