Orwell Language Essay

He was a devil, everyone agreed, a tartar, a tyrant, a bawling, blasphemous, uncharitable dog.

What talk there was ran on the Tramp Major of this spike.Six greasy, slippery roller towels had to serve for the lot of us.When we had bathed our own clothes were taken away from us, and we were dressed in the workhouse shirts, grey cotton things like nightshirts, reaching to the middle of the thigh.It was a gloomy, chilly, limewashed place, consisting only of a bathroom and dining-room and about a hundred narrow stone cells.The terrible Tramp Major met us at the door and herded us into the bathroom to be stripped and searched.Overhead the chestnut branches were covered with blossom, and beyond that great woolly clouds floated almost motionless in a clear sky.Littered on the grass, we seemed dingy, urban riff-raff.Some of the men refused the bath, and washed only their 'toe-rags', the horrid, greasy little clouts which tramps bind round their feet.Each of us had three minutes in which to bathe himself.The doors were locked on the outside a little before seven in the evening, and would stay locked for the next twelve hours.The cells measured eight feet by five, and, had no lighting apparatus except a tiny, barred window high up in the wall, and a spyhole in the door.

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