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Hiss! Precious, listen up, yesss! Me, a telephone operator, seein’ all sorts – prostitutes too! Nasty, tricksy world out there, eh? This one prossie, she’s like somethin’ outta *White Material* – fierce, lost, fightin’. “The land burns us,” she’d hiss, like Claire Denis’ Maria, all wild-eyed. Worked the streets near me exchange, clickin’ heels, dodgin’ coppers. Made me mad, yesss – blokes treatin’ her like filth! “We’re not animals,” she’d spit, proud-like, and I’d cheer, quiet in me head.

4 responses to ““Slums” of the Black Country: Oatmeal Square, Wednesbury”

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I peep spots off Darwen Street, and yeah – some corners are straight up art, graffiti and hustle everywhere. Even in a town like this, you find a beat, a vibe you never expect. Sometimes, I'm giving a massage and my mind drifts to the city streets, feelin’ every bruise, every crack in the pavement, like “Hey, I love you” to every hidden story.

Mayor hits out at red tape at Wednesbury housing site