In recent years, the once-unfashionable English second city of Birmingham has undergone a dramatic transformation thanks to a TV show about an olde worlde street gang notorious for their high cheek-bones and weaponised hats.
Fans of the hit drama series No products found. (affectionately known as ‘Peakies’, although they prefer the term ‘Peakans’) have been visiting the city in huge numbers, often crossing entire continents dressed as their favourite characters from the show or as Birmingham landmarks. To meet this demand, the city now has literally millions of Peaky Blinder-themed pubs, nightclubs and soft play centres, while the so-called ‘Peaky Dividend’ generated by this surge in international tourism has helped finance major regeneration projects including the HS2 rail link and a multi-billion pound restoration of the Digbeth coastline.
Prime Minister Boris Johnson has now urged other parts of the country to “Make Britain Great Britain Again” by copying Birmingham’s Peaky-strategy. “I want to see our great nation get its mojo back,” claims Johnson. “This can be done quickly and easily by scouring local history books for more boxset-ready, Netflix-friendly regional sociopaths.”
Here’s the sort of thing he’s talking about:
Derbyshire’s Streaky Bakers

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Long before the Great British Bake Off captivated an easily-distracted nation, this seemingly harmless prime-time pastime once had an altogether more sinister appeal. For decades, the sleepy Derbyshire town of Bakewell was home to illegal backstreet bake-offs, where muscular, barely-literate amateur bakers would compete against each other for cash, honour, and yeast. Part of the same underground scene that introduced the world to bare-knuckle knitting and illegal jam distilleries, the bake-offs became a focal point for illegal gambling dens run by gangs of unscrupulous cook-makers (or ‘cookies’ for short). The most vicious of these were the Streaky Bakers, who often rigged the outcome of bake-offs by breaking crusts, soggying bottoms and, quite literally, ‘cooking the books’. Their name derived from the fact that they didn’t wear clothes.
Lincoln’s Cheesy Rollers

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In the 1820s, Lincoln’s Cheesy Rollers were a group of free-thinking radicals who attacked the ruling elite through the medium of dairy produce. At the dead of night, they’d surreptitiously transport an immense wheel of cheese to the peak of the city’s Steep Hill district, before letting it roll towards unsuspecting gatherings of toffs and poshos who’d be scattered like top hat-wearing skittles.
The Cheesy Rollers were denounced by Lord Liverpool’s government which was notoriously lactose-intolerant. The gang captured the imagination of the British public, however, and even got namechecked in a famous couplet by Shelley:
I saw freedom o’er there
It had a whiff of camembert
In 1848, popular opinion soon turned against the movement when a huge Red Leicester en route to a robber baron convention veered off-course and crashed into a party of picnicking nuns. Wreckage recovered from the cheese debris proved that faulty tracking was to blame, but the gang was still rounded up, tried without a jury, and then exiled to faraway East Anglia due to its flat terrain.
Despite all this, their legacy endured. A century later, the American folk singer Woody Guthrie wrote ‘Ballad of a Cheesy Roller’ which featured the rousing chorus:
What’s that coming over the hill?
Is it a Gloucester? Is it a Gloucester?
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Hull’s Teethy Whiteners

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The gang’s name referred to their favourite form of punishment, which involved forcefully whitening their enemies’ teeth by using a special blend of peroxide and bicarbonate of soda. This would render the victim a social outcast during an era characterised by dark-tanned gnashers.
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Nottingham’s Creepy Monsters
The gang – dressed in tawdry Pierrot costumes – would loiter around bulldozers, taunting passers-by with obsolete video effects and sinister chants of “You’d better not mess with Major Tom.” As the situation escalated, Bowie himself personally intervened, making numerous peacekeeping visits to Beeston and Gedling despite his widely-publicized fear of Brian Clough.
Bowie’s efforts were counter-productive, however, inspiring the formation of breakaway tribute gangs like the Bowie/Jagger-influenced ‘Streety Dancers’ and the Bowie/Queen-themed ‘Undie Pressers’.
Exasperated, Bowie took drastic steps to distance himself from these gangland connections by forming the band ‘Tin Machine.’
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Oxford’s Bully Clubbers

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The author would like to invite gang members to a reunion bash that will be held at the base of Lincoln’s famous Steep Hill.
Cheese will be served.
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