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.

Are you troubled by debts, mortgage repayments, or other loans? Do you struggle to make ends meet? Are you tempted by those adverts on television offering short-term loans at rates of interest that would make a Serbian gangster blush?

If you are, then you are far from alone. People everywhere are also feeling the pinch as the worldwide financial crisis lumbers on, sucking with it the hopes and dreams of tens of millions of human beings, right down the toilet. The blame for this mess has been laid firmly at the door of the banking community (and, to a lesser extent, those who draw their curtains during the daytime). For years bankers the world over had been selling imaginary money to each other and pocketing the very real profits. When the bubble eventually and spectacularly burst, it was with such ferocity that the children’s children of ordinary folk like you will still be paying for it when they are old and grey.

No, I don’t really understand how it works, either, but it’s bad. Real bad. Anyway. None of this huge mess would have been possible without the city of Birmingham, for it was here, in 1775, that Richard Ketley founded the world’s first Building Society.

Both the Lloyds and Midland (now HSBC) Banks were also formed here shortly afterwards. From its humble beginnings in the taverns and coffeehouses around the Snow Hill district of central Birmingham, Banking quickly became a very popular thing indeed, spreading globally within a matter of years, and eventually leading to the arsing financial meltdown were are all enjoying today.

We’re all in this together, bab.

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.

Ah, Manchester! Competitive little Manchester! Gutsy, plucky, Manchester! What makes you tick? What makes you worry so much about Birmingham? What makes you enter into dick measuring contests with us all the time? Well, our Psychology 101 training suggests it’s something oedipal. Tell us, people of the North, tell us about your mother.

Folksy little Manchester was something of a 14th Century Etsy, producing all manner of cutesy home spun bits of Flemish weaving, that was of course until Birmingham started and then sent the Industrial Revolution up country to them, giving them the opportunity to step up their ideas a bit and start to grow.

Whilst Birmingham, a sort of Cupertino for the 1700s, was busily producing more and more great ideas to send out into the world, Manchester rolled up its sleeves and swore it would be bigger than us one day, just you wait and see.

And so, like Frankenstein’s Monster, it lurches about the place grasping at things it doesn’t understand and crying out. One day its clumsy fists might crush Birmingham, the maker. We can’t stop it and perversely we don’t want to. We watch Manchester, simultaneously disgusted and fascinated by it as it shouts something about having more sausages than us, bellowing something about Salford.

Imagine the chip they’d have on their collective shoulders if they were scousers.