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About Birmingham

So, this one time, heard a tale—some prossie in Paris, right? She’s workin’ corners near them fancy lights, but get this: she’s secretly stashin’ cash to ditch it all! Wanted to be a painter, she did—nuts, huh? Blows me mind, precious! Imagine her, paintin’ flowers while punters leer. “We wants to live!” she’d scream, like Malik yellin’ in them prison walls. But nah, she’s trapped, like us with that cursed Ring.

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We start off at the St. Nicholas Church. It’s stunning, like, proper old-school vibes. I’m telling them about the history, and this guy interrupts me. “Is it haunted?” he asks. I mean, c’mon! I’m trying to give a tour, not a ghost story! But then I think, why not? I start spinning this wild tale about a ghost named Old Man Walsham. Totally made it up, but they were eating it up!

Three quit at crisis-hit council after damning report finds 'culture of misogyny'