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Leon tilted his head, listening to Bonnie talk about the history of the Birmingham gangs.
The story starts in the UK in the 1850s, when Birmingham's economic hardship led to a deterioration of social morals.
Impoverished young people could only survive by robbing and extorting, and the streets were full of various gambling dens.
In this social atmosphere, young people from poor families had only two paths: join the army or go to university.
Of course, there was a third path—hustling on the streets, surviving the dog-eat-dog world of the underclass, and becoming the toughest of the tough.
In this environment, a local gang called the "Peaky Blinders" was born in Birmingham.
They were ruthless, using any tool within sight as a weapon during fights.
Belt buckles, fire pokers, even stones wrapped in handkerchiefs...
More famously, the trick of hiding razor blades under the brim of their caps, using this cunning method to slash their opponents' faces.
Phil shook his head disapprovingly and mocked, "This sounds like child's play. In Brownsville, a teenager has a Glock tucked in his waist. Belts? Razors? That's stuff to scare women..."
Although Leon wasn't very interested in this cosplay-like behavior, he fully respected Bonnie's opinion.
A public figure's persona is essentially a kind of cosplay.
Whether presenting an image of justice, kindness, cunning, or authority in front of the camera, it is all packaging by the PR team.
From the President to movie stars, it's all the same.
As soon as the plane landed at Heathrow Airport, the group boarded the waiting commercial convoy and went straight to Savile Row.
Phil asked while refreshing his social media, "You said before that you're not into football (American). That's not very American at all~ Hehe, actually I'm the same. Watching a bunch of big black guys rushing around on the field is just stupid. I'd rather watch WWE wrestling, watching those big women charging with their assets..."
Leon nodded. Influenced by the soul of a transmigrator, he really didn't have much affection for American football.
"Then what do you like? Men always have a sport they love, right? I guess it's soccer?" Phil asked.
"I do often watch live broadcasts of European football matches..."
"I knew it!" Phil slapped his thigh excitedly. "This is where our souls are the same, like King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table!"
Rather than being interested in football, Leon was more interested in money.
The Super Bowl is known as the sporting event with the highest commercial value in the world, but insiders know this is just arrogant American self-indulgence.
Look at the income of top players and the total number of viewers per year; the European "Big Five" leagues are the real gold mine.
Influenced by Roc Nation and SB Projects, Leon had been paying attention to the European football "Big Five" leagues since the establishment of Apocalypse Agency, especially the Premier League with the highest commercial value.
Chatting about football, Phil opened his chatterbox and couldn't help asking, "Which team do you support? I guess it's Barcelona?"
"Why do you think so?"
"Because they play the dirtiest, their acting skills in diving are more professional than actors, and there are always referees helping secretly. You guy must like this!" Phil pinched his throat and laughed.
"If you put it that way, then I should be a fan of the South Korean team." Leon spread his hands. "The Korea-Japan World Cup was the worst World Cup in history. The Koreans were committing crimes."
"Hahaha~" Phil covered his stomach and laughed back and forth.
Bonnie looked at the two with a confused face. Obviously, she knew nothing about the football memes between men.
She reminded in a low voice, "Our time is very tight. The interview will start in five hours. We must complete the custom handmade suit customization taking advantage of the current time!"
The business van stopped in front of a quaint tailor shop on Savile Row.
Leon looked at the blurred logo on the signboard and shook his head repeatedly. "Can't we just find a clothing store and buy a ready-made one?"
"No! Custom suits and industrial products are the difference between heaven and hell!"
Although Leon scoffed at this statement, he could only comply with the other party's idea.
The only value of most handmade products compared to industrial products is that they are expensive, with a high premium.
How can human hands be more precise than machines?
As early as the late 18th century, the British did an experiment in the late Qing Dynasty. They invited the best needlework craftsmen at that time to compete with textile machines.
The result was that whether in efficiency or quality, the needleworkers lost completely to the machines.
With the changing times, the gap between machines and humans will only get bigger and bigger.
Leon bit the bullet and walked into the tailor shop. The owner and the assistant immediately greeted them with smiles. "Welcome to Saxe Tailors. This must be the reserved Ms. Bonnie."
The shop owner stroked his neatly groomed handlebar mustache with gel, bowing and lightly touching Bonnie's hand to pay respect.
The forced performance of old-school gentlemanly demeanor made Phil roll his eyes.
The owner pointed to the celebrity photos hanging on the wall of the shop and introduced proudly, "This shop has a history of 145 years. We have served the Prince of Wales, the King of Egypt... My ancestors once customized military uniforms for Napoleon! My grandfather was Sir Winston Churchill's favorite tailor!"
"Enough, we don't have much time. You can start your work now." Leon waved his hand to interrupt the shop owner's bragging. Every shop on Savile Row bragged that they had customized suits for Churchill.
If this is true, the only reason he could think of is that Churchill was too obese in his later years, so he could only rely on customization for dressing.
The shop owner asked Leon to stand in front of a long mirror and took out a long cloth tape to measure him back and forth.
Shoulder width, arm circumference, waist circumference, upper and lower body ratio...
Every detail was not let go. Just the simple measurement session took more than half an hour, and the apprentice's notebook was filled with three pages.
In this process, Leon gradually understood where the advantage of handmade suits lies compared to industrial products.
The tailor shop can customize according to everyone's body shape, not letting go of any tiny detail, to achieve the best personal dressing experience.
Factories can only produce roughly according to size; it is impossible to reserve a production line for a single person's dressing needs.
"Excellent, this gentleman has a great figure. Is he a model?" The shop owner put away the cloth tape, his face full of smiles.
"Your guess is close, but not accurate enough. You might see him on BBC recently." Bonnie said.
"Really?"
The shop owner immediately became respectful. This kind of shop has two completely different faces for general consumers and public figures.
"Of course." Bonnie looked down at her newly bought Cartier watch. "Hurry up. How long will it take?"
"I will finish it as fast as possible, about three days!"
"Sht~"
Leon couldn't wait that long. Thinking of wasting nearly an hour on clothes, he couldn't help cursing.
"Too long... what about the fastest speed?" Bonnie asked.
The shop owner shook his head. "This is already the fastest speed. Making clothes is not as simple as you think. We have to make patterns, select fabrics, cut, sew, iron... Every process is a craft. Any mistake in any link will ruin the whole piece of clothing!"
"Okay~" Bonnie could only choose to compromise and buy a ready-made set randomly at a high-end clothing store in Harrods.
Seeing the group about to leave, the shop owner panicked immediately.
For a sunset industry like handmade tailor shops, the living environment has become increasingly difficult.
He didn't want to let go of the only customer this week, especially since the other party sounded like a public figure.
"Wait, gentlemen... lady, I have another way."
"What way?" Leon glanced at his watch impatiently. "Don't waste my time..."
Phil shouted at the top of his lungs, "Don't waste time, Brit! You can't imagine how precious the time of this young man standing in front of you is! It's calculated in tens of thousands, you understand! Dollars!"
The tailor owner secretly rejoiced in his heart. According to his observation, although the young man in front of him wasn't dressed very decently, his tone sounded pretentious.
But the weird ring on his hand and the Vacheron Constantin gold watch couldn't escape his snobbish eyes.
He quickly bowed and scraped, showing Japanese-style sycophancy. "I happen to have a distinguished customer whose figure is very close to Mr. Leon's. He customized a suit last month but was not very satisfied with the finished color. I have consulted his opinion, and he let me deal with it myself..."
"You want Leon to wear trash no one wants?" Phil sneered and mocked, "You old-fashioned Brit should go online. You have no idea how rich this young man is..."
"Sorry, I really don't know much about the internet."
Bonnie asked patiently, "Can I see that suit?"
"Of course!" The tailor owner quickly ordered the apprentice to pick out a black suit from the hanger.
"Made of top-grade Scottish cashmere, 100% handmade..." The tailor owner pointed to the clothes and introduced, "It's just that my distinguished customer prefers bright black and thought the color of this suit was a bit low-key."
Bonnie looked around the clothes. With her fashion cultivation, she couldn't find any fault with the clothes at all. It perfectly matched her fantasy of the old-school British gangster style.
"Very good. I think this suit will suit Leon very well."
"Don't need to try it on?" The tailor owner asked.
"No need, I know my boss's size very well." Bonnie winked at Leon.
"Very good... Since this suit is left by a previous guest, I will make an exception and give you a 20% discount. You only need to pay 12,000 pounds."
Hearing this price, Leon frowned slightly. He thought the price of a custom suit would be very expensive, but he didn't expect it to be so outrageous.
"I think this guy is clearly treating us as stupid American nouveau riche to slaughter." Phil sneered twice. "Who would throw away clothes worth more than ten thousand pounds just for the difference between matte black and bright black? Don't tell me that guy is Prince William."
"No, that distinguished guest is David Beckham."
"What?" Phil's eyes widened with an incredible expression.
"What I said is true. Look at the photo of me and David on the wall." The tailor owner took out his phone. "I can even call him."
"No need, let's just take it." Leon didn't bother to waste time choosing clothes, took out his credit card, and signaled Bonnie to pay.
The convoy drove to the BBC headquarters building. The first stop of this trip to the UK was to record an exclusive interview program on BBC One to deepen the British audience's understanding of him.
"You have a considerable reputation in the UK. Senorita once peaked at second place on the UK Singles Chart, and Demons ranked first for two consecutive weeks. The more famous a singer like you is, the less mercy the BBC shows when asking questions." Bonnie reminded.
Senorita performed better than Demons in other parts of the world, only the UK was an exception.
Elvis Presley is the greatest promoter and founder in rock history; this is the consensus in the industry.
But the center of global rock music in the last century was not in America, but in the British Isles.
The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Queen, Oasis, Pink Floyd, Suede, Coldplay, and Led Zeppelin...
Too many rock bands with global influence came out of here. If rock fans were asked to select the top ten greatest rock bands in history, the British would occupy at least seven seats.
Even sweeping the list wouldn't be surprising.
"If those Brits make things difficult for you, don't leave them any face." Phil suggested with a solemn expression, "Trust me, Brits are a bunch of bullies who fear the strong. The more humble and forbearing you are, the more they will push their luck..."
"I think your worry is a bit superfluous. Don't you know me?" Leon waved his hand.
"The nature of the BBC is different from other media. They are a public service broadcasting company, with no shareholders or board of directors, serving no individuals or institutions..." Phil said. "Every person living in the UK, as long as they need to watch TV programs, has to pay a standard TV license fee of over a hundred pounds to the BBC every year! This is easier than robbery, so the bastards of this TV station always do whatever they want!"
The reason why the BBC can suppress CNN and NBC and stand at the top of the world's TV broadcasting field relies on the standard TV license fee that makes all private companies envious.
This fee is a mandatory charge levied by the British government on households and businesses that own TV receiving equipment and watch live TV.
Its main purpose is to fund the BBC so that it can operate TV, radio, and online services without relying on advertising revenue.
The tyranny of this fee is comparable to income tax in the UK. Whether you watch BBC programs or not, as long as you watch any live TV or use BBC iPlayer to watch on-demand content in the UK, you must pay this fee.
Even black and white TVs are no exception, just the fee is relatively lower.
Guided by the reception staff, Leon and his party entered the BBC headquarters building to familiarize themselves with the script two hours before the official recording began.
"Your outfit today looks very different." The program director was very surprised to see Leon's outfit.
"What's different?"
"We all thought you would appear in an Adidas tracksuit, just like those teenagers (hooligans) in East London, you know." The director said, "You look like a real British gentleman now... but it still looks a bit strange."
Leon's outfit today followed Bonnie's arrangement throughout, completely built according to the image of the Birmingham gang.
The tailor shop owner also handmade a gold brooch representing his personal label in the shortest time—a lion head with a crown.
This British style outfit, precise to every detail, indeed easily won the goodwill of the British, and the atmosphere was not as tense as imagined before.
Until the official program began, the BBC revealed its true face.
"Mr. Leon, you have never responded positively to the multiple shooting cases you were involved in." The host crossed his arms and crossed his legs, looking like a judge. "Including the video store shooting incident, Diddy being ambushed at his doorstep, the young rapper in New York being beaten into a sieve in his apartment..."
The host opened fire as soon as he spoke. Leon couldn't deny these things directly, which would affect his street image.
Admitting it was even more impossible; this was equivalent to a confession of guilt, maybe it would really attract police attention.
Leon revealed a helpless smile and teased, "There seems to be a kind of magic on me. Everyone who tries to attack and smear me suffers in advance. Do you think these are coincidences?"
The host didn't expect to be asked back. The words seemed light but were actually a warning full of gunpowder.
He quickly curled his lips and moved on to the next topic. "First of all, congratulations on winning big at the MTV awards ceremony yesterday."
"Thank you."
"The image of you holding hands with Taylor and Robbie at the same time on the red carpet impressed fans all over the world. Everyone is curious how you did this?" The host asked with a smile, "I mean, my wife would slap me even if she just heard my ex-wife's name from my mouth. What kind of magic did you use?"