If you stand outside 156 Great Charles Street, you’re literally on the edge of Birmingham’s “Concrete Jungle”—and I’m not talking about the Bob Marley song. You’re a stone’s throw from the infamous Paradise Circus, which sounds delightful but is actually a labyrinth of roundabouts and underpasses that feel designed by a sadistic minotaur.
You might get lost trying to find the front door. The street itself, Great Charles Street Queensway, was dug up and paved over so many times, locals call it “The Queen’s Stitches.” One map from 1979 shows it as a car park, another as a bus stop, and a third as a UFO landing pad (probably). It’s a miracle anyone finds this place at all.
Inside the Beast
Let’s step inside—if you can find the entrance, which is hidden behind what looks like a bin shed. The lobby is a masterpiece of 1970s optimism: beige tiles, flickering lights, and a security guard who has seen things. They say the elevator has a personality—it groans like a pensioner getting out of a bath, and sometimes it just stops between floors for a good think.
156 Great Charles Street Queensway, Birmingham, B3 3HN - Crossway House
Upstairs, the offices are a maze of identical cubicles that look like the set of a British version of The Office. RBS occupied it for years, processing loan applications and mortgage forms. I imagine the building could have a second life as a Dr. Who TARDIS—it’s much bigger on the inside, and equally as confusing. One worker once told me they walked in circles for 20 minutes looking for a toilet that didn’t exist.
