Word: slagged
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Newspapers ran background features on the Wilson aides who had profited from the deal and prominently displayed photos of the disputed property, which was once a slag heap. Cartoons depicted 10 Downing Street buried in black slag, with Wilson digging out. Libel writs were issued against three other papers; but they had little effect as the news torrent continued. The Labor-leaning Guardian explored the potential conflict-of-interest issue of a Prune Minister's aides speculating in real estate ventures. Television also gave the story big play; one editor whose paper was being sued appeared...
...near Wigan in northern England, with Field as far back as 1967. "It is difficult for anyone to play golf with someone," he cheerfully explained, "and not know what business he is in." Wilson argued that Field had worked hard to improve the property. He had cleared it of slag heaps (which Britons have dubbed "the Wigan Alps") and had therefore more than earned what Field says was an estimated $240,000 profit on the sale of the parcel. The Daily Mail had claimed that he made $1,860,000 on the complicated deal. As for Marcia Williams...
Slums and slag heaps, Freudian phrases and Marxian metaphors, the fall of prices and the Fall of Man-all found a place in Wystan Auden's writing. No poet more constantly and conscientiously tried to extend the domain of things poetical...
...steep Blue Mountains of the Great Dividing Range it speeds toward the stark-naked Nullarbor Plain. It flashes by farms with earth so red that the livestock watering holes seem to be filled with blood. It races past nickel, lead and gold mines, flocks of fleecy merinos, smelters, slag heaps, ports and forests. It passes signs exhorting WELFARE NOT WARFARE and OUR HOSPITAL NEEDS YOUR HELP: PLEASE GET SICK. A big painted rock aimed at shooing away pilots seeking to land says PISS OFF. To the north, lights from the Woomera range and tracking station, used for guiding American astronauts...
...when the mills fire up and the whole South-East side of Chicago glows red for a few minutes. If the atomic Armageddon ever comes, South-East siders will think that it is just another big fire-up. The yellow street sign dimly reads 100th street through the caked slag dust pollution and snow falls gently tinged with red from the mills. It is winter vacation, and I am going to see an old friend...