Before
BEFORE THE HELL that was dubbed World War 1, even Great Britain had its problems. There were feelings of political unrest and many demands for reform. Parliament voting was based on an amount of property one owned, not giving a fair chance to all towards the country's democracy. Many rules gave advantages towards the middle and upper classes, leaving the lower working class out to dry all on their own. This system made it incredibly difficult to turn nothing into something.
Industrialism took the land by storm, where hard-working men faced horrific conditions to fill the pockets of the upper classes. Lots of towns and cities faced the wreckage that was poverty–and when money was in need, opportunity for crime rose to the surface.
Birmingham, Small Heath in particular, was an industrial powerhouse. It, too, was plagued by inadequate sewage systems (hence the frequent smell of piss and shit), and improper sanitation. One was lucky if they dodged the bullet that was illness and disease. Only the head-strong and the strong-willed survived.
The city was not much of a sight to behold. The towering factories and smog-choked skies casted a somber veil over the streets, creating an atmosphere dark and oppressive. The once-elegant Victorian buildings, now weathered and soot-stained, seemed to bear the weight of the city's industrial prowess. The landscape felt worn and weary to those visiting from out of town, but the local inhabitants of Small Heath were unfazed. The city's transformation into an industrial powerhouse has come at a cost, and it was evident in the slump of the resident's spines as this weight hung on their shoulders. The buildings–mainly factories and warehouses–stretched long into the sky, casting a seemingly ominous shadow over the passerby down on the street below.