Scenes: Number 23

It's late in the evening. The street is dark and foggy. The sparse streetlights merely illuminate the fog, not the pavement you walk on. Work was okay today, just long and boring. You really want to get home and crack open a bottle of something alcoholic.

You turn onto the road you live on and from all the way down the street a strange sound throbs through the air. It booms, low and persistent. Your smart shoes clip and clop, high and precise noises, but the booming smothers all. What the hell is it?

The bright lights of the BP garage ahead just about cut through the fog. Iit's very thick if it can dull the usually sun-like power of that place. As you breathe in you notice a smell. Something burning, or at least burnt. It's almost barbecuey, even a little bit like weed, neither one nor the other. The smell seems to fade though, replaced by the feeling of your ears vibrating.

You're nearly home now. You can see your front door and you're walking towards it. You look left towards the petrol station where the booms are coming from.

It's chavs having a mini-rave on the forecourt.