Dear readers — a real treat for you today. Jon Neale has carved out a bit of a speciality here writing about the lesser known nuggets of Birmingham’s history, often in ways that challenge popular conceptions of the city.
Today’s piece is no different, where Jon delves into the past of “Reformed Pubs” — the large, often mock tudor pubs that are found in suburban estates all around Birmingham. They sprung up in the first half of the 20th century, and some even have bowling greens out the back. These, he writes, are a speciality of the city and something to be celebrated, not derided. And the fact there are so many tells us a lot about the political and religious currents swirling around here a hundred years ago.
It’s a real treat, and our loyal band of paying members get to read the whole thing. Of course, you could wait until you hit that agonising paywall — but why not just press the button below and give us a try? We’re really trying to build something that lasts here in Birmingham, and the only way it becomes sustainable is with more support (we run at a loss at the moment). If you can afford to, then please join today.
Brum in Brief
❌ An image of a group of men carrying axes and knives, which was posted online yesterday alongside claims the men were storming a Birmingham hospital, has been confirmed as fake. The AI-produced image was shared by multiple accounts on X, including one which falsely stated the men were a “migrant mob” that was re-posted by none other than Elon Musk. The fabrication emerged after family members of a 16-year-old boy who was stabbed in Bordesley Green gathered at Heartlands Hospital where he was being treated. News stories then emerged suggesting the hospital had gone into lockdown after being “ambushed” with a witness claiming an ambulance was raided. West Midlands Police released a statement on Monday confirming that no disorder had taken place and “claims of ambulances being raided or looted are untrue”. Yesterday, the force and University Hospitals Birmingham confirmed the image was false. The 16-year-old boy’s condition is now stable.
🗑️ Headteachers at Sutton Coldfield schools are angry that their bins have not been collected due to ongoing strikes by Birmingham City Council refuse workers. The schools pay an annual fee to have their rubbish removed but since the walkouts, rubbish has piled up, bins are over-spilling and even rats have been spotted. Kelly Lickley, the headteacher at Minworth Junior and Infant School, said her school’s last collection was on the 23rd January. “It’s absolutely disgusting she said,” before arguing schools and hospitals should be prioritised. A spokesperson for the council said additional crews would be dispatched to schools that have reported a missed collection.
⚽ One of Birmingham’s most famous exports, Jude Bellingham, has sparked a new vein of media discourse in Spain. On Monday, Real Madrid’s star midfielder enraged Spanish referee José Luis Munuera Montero who thought the Brummie had said “fuck you” to him, leading to his instant ejection from the pitch. Bellingham claims he actually said “fuck off”, and was speaking not to the ref, but to himself. Nevertheless, the red card came just as Osasuna scored, bringing the teams to a 1-1 draw. Spain’s broadsheets and tabloids alike are now diligently applying themselves to deciphering and explaining the difference between the two phrases to Spanish speakers.
A tale of temperance and town planning
By Jon Neale
It’s a Monday afternoon and I’ve just got off the cross-city line at Bournville. I turn left and head through the streets of small terraced houses towards Stirchley. It’s changed a lot since I was last here; all craft breweries and hipster burger joints. But I’m not here to take in the new charms of what has been labelled Birmingham’s most fashionable neighbourhood; I’m here to visit a pub that has stood here for almost a century: the British Oak. It’s an imposing, grade II listed building, vaguely Tudor in style, looking slightly out of place in the unremarkable jumble of the Pershore Road.
Inside, I meet the landlady Maria, who took over the reins here in 2019. She’s very proud of the historic fittings of the building, which have been restored to their former glory, but when I ask her if she knows this is a Reformed Pub, she looks a bit puzzled. “It’s the first time it’s been mentioned to me”, she says. That’s hardly surprising; it’s a bit of a niche topic, even in Birmingham, although when I take a look at the vast garden with its bowling green and club, it’s clear that this is not your standard boozer.
The Birmingham I grew up in was not composed of the tower blocks and flyovers so often used as shorthand for the city. Its ingredients were endless semi-detached houses and broad tree-line arterial roads, often with a mysterious and unvisited grassy central reservation. And then there was the vast inter-war pub, often but not always in the same mock tudor as my home; like a semi blown up to grand proportions. I didn’t think about them much at the time; after all, they were just part of the local scene, which I assumed was generically English-suburban.
But as I spent time in other cities, I realised that — in size and quantity at least — these “improved” or “reformed” pubs were quite a distinctive feature of Birmingham. They were a direct result of the city’s nonconformist leadership, its booming industries during the first half of the 20th century, the commercial heft of its brewery giants, and its leading role in early town planning.
