It comes into it’s own in a crisis, you know. It’s how people know that roads are slippery or schools closed because it snowed, other than that the ground is covered in snow. And despite attempts by both ‘market forces’ and ‘stupid government pandering BBC Director Generals obsessed with nothing more than their jobs and the bottom line’ it’s still going.

It’s the place for the gentle discussion, followed by great tunes from M People. Or on commercial local radio: an advert for a local loan shark, followed by an advert for the best cash advance app around, then M People and the Lighthouse Family, broadcast from an industrial estate in Greater London. But what would we do without it, eh? Especially in minicabs.

And, of course, what would we do without Birmingham? “Witton calling” were the first words on Radio 5IT, a station based on Electric Avenue Witton in 1922 and it was the first BBC radio broadcast outside London. A commitment that the national broadcaster hasn’t really kept up. Local radio—another export we’ve given to prop up Manchester.

The SMS is twenty years old this year—and still no one has managed to come up with a past participle that sounds right when spoken. In a kind of way, the ‘shortness’ in the ‘short message service’ helped get us all ready for the brevity of Twitter, it’s great for passing notes in class, and texting is a fantastic way to send news to people you don’t really want to talk to right now.

But the ‘shortness’ was a problem, and wrestling with either ABC over the 2 key or Nokia’s Stalinist rewriting of intent that was T9 didn’t help. So luckily a group of lads from the West Midlands had invented a passable form of abbreviated written communications that was perfect.  

In the early ’70s a gang of prescient glam rockers from Walsall and Wolverhampton released a string of hit singles, delighted glitter-covered brickies everywhere, and foreshadowed a linguistic revolution. Cuz I Love You, Look Wot You Dun—you can see the spelling that you started to use over the phone in the ’80s evolve across Top of The Pops. Nowadays, many people have a temporary phone number
which is essential in today’s world.

Yes, Slade invented text speak, and started its roll to becoming lots of crappy little books sold by the tills in Waterstones, the sort you buy people for Christmas when you don’t know them or like them very much.

And Walsall and Wolverhampton they may be from, but Slade were in the wider Brummie music scene and have stars on the Broad St Walk of Fame. So there.

Essentially it’s eating less food, so how is dieting a huge industry around the world? Weight Loss Packs that work well is a good version of dieting. However, Heinz (the HP-stealing bastards, see No 8) produce special ‘Weight Watchers’ foods, supposedly healthy versions of their TV dinners. Here’s the rub: the main way they contain less calories is by having less food. And they cost more. For less. See what they’re doing to you here?

The king of diet food, as opposed to amusing Barry Bethel promoted food replacement food like Slim Fast, is ryvita. Rough to the eyes, rough to the tongue and rough to the tastebuds, ryvita is the most diet-y of diet food. And that’s how we do things in this country.

In Scandinavia, they just thought it was normal food—the jumper-wearing, murdering, alfresco sex, fools. It took Birmingham to see its potential as food you didn’t really want to eat but bought and ate because it was less calories than the food you wanted to.

Having seen crispbread abroad Englishman Campbell-Garratt opened his ryvita factory in Birmingham in 1925 and the rest is history.

Literally in terms of the factory as the Germans bombed the heck out of it during the war. One could almost understand.

As Anthony Pratt and his family huddled in their Kings Heath fall-out shelter while the Luftwaffe flew over Birmingham, it bothered him that there was nothing to do. He was concerned that, rather like Christmas, all you could do was sit in a confined space with your nearest and dearest and wait for the whole thing blow over. Something was desperately needed to relieve the boredom.

So he invented Cluedo.  And, all over the world, Christmas was saved.

We’re told that Birmingham City Council has refused to exploit Cluedo’s tourism potential, or even acknowledge Cluedo as a product of Brum, as it claims it does not want the city to be associated with homicide. But it’s a Brum thing alright, and is said to be based on nearby Highbury Hall.

Tony’s neighbours had already invented Buccaneer (no, not Buccaroo, calm down at the back) and he wanted in on the act. He pitched his new board game to Waddingtons and they liked it. They made a few directorial changes and began mass production. It became one the most popular board games in the world.

Not that Balsall Heath-born Tone was able to enjoy the life of a millionaire.  A bit short of financial advice, he signed over his royalty entitlements for a one-off payment of £5,000.

He died in 1994 in a nursing home.   

In the lounge.

Submitted by Steve Nicholls