The wrecking ball started swinging yesterday, smashing through the victorian red bricked walls of the town hall. Bill, sitting on the bench with Walter and Sid said the crashing brickwork and dust reminded him of the war. Bill was never in the war though because of his flat feet. The closest he ever got to it was when an evacuee through a stone at him while he was fixing the toilets at Hopesay School. The dust is getting on Sid’s chest. Walter remembers his wedding reception in the ballroom upstairs 40 years ago. He watches the ceiling plasterwork crumbling under the weight of the JCB’s bucket – the same institutional green it was all those years ago.
Phil (estate agent Phil) watches the tumbling walls reflected in the window of the jewellers on the corner as his eyes flash across the trays of glittering diamonds.
Dodgy John from the market is fuming again. First they moved the market from the bottom of the town hall when the bloody place started falling down and now they’ve closed the bloody car park they were selling from in case anyone gets hit by falling bricks while they knock the bloody thing down. And John has got a fridge full of liver and kidneys at home right on the cusp of being past it. What’s he sposed to do? Invite people round to his house to buy them? Bloody town council.
John says all this to Bert from the Town Council. Bert listens and nods sympathetically. He tries to tell John that it’s not really anything to do with the Town Council, that this kind of thing goes to County level, even to Westminster.
“Bloody Westminster” says John.
“We wouldn’t want to see anyone hurt though would we?” offers Bert
“What about my bloody kidneys?”
“I didn’t know you suffered…”
“Not MY kidneys … kidneys … steak and kidneys …” fumes John.
“Oh … of course” smiles Bert ” Well hopefully it will all be done in a week and we can get back to normal”
“A week!” shrieks John “Bloody Town Council!”
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