From Penny for the Guy to Vodbull Nights, How Halloween Stole Bonfire Night

1982, something quietly revolutionary happened.

When I was a kid, the biggest night of the year wasn’t Halloween. It was Bonfire Night.

No costumes, no pumpkins, no fancy dress. We didn’t need them. We had penny for the Guy.

We’d stuff old clothes with newspaper, stick a hat on top and wheel our masterpiece round in an old pram, shouting “penny for the Guy!” outside shops and pubs. If we were lucky, we’d make a few coppers. And what did we do with those precious coins? We went straight to the local hardware shop and bought fireworks.

No age limits, no “parental supervision”, just the need to have cash on you. Proper pre-decimal coin too, with a bit of weight about it. A ten-bob note? That would’ve made you a millionaire.

Come Bonfire Night, every back garden, every bit of waste ground, every local park had a fire blazing. We’d build a great stack of wood, perch our Guy on top, and when the time came, light it up and stand back in awe. Sparklers in one hand, Alpine pop in the other, that was our feast. No burgers or hot dogs that I can recall. Maybe a few biscuits, maybe too many sweets, but that was enough.

The next morning you’d find spent rocket sticks littering the streets, your back garden, everywhere. The smell of smoke hung in the air for days. It was a proper, national moment.

Then, in 1982, something quietly revolutionary happened.

A film came out called E.T., and what a cracker it was. A beautiful story that still stands the test of time. But there was something else going on in that film, something that slipped under the radar at first.

It showed us how American kids celebrated what they called Halloween. We’d heard of it, of course, but we didn’t do it. Over there it was all costumes, pumpkins, and “trick or treat”. Over here we were setting fire to an effigy of a bloke who’d tried to blow up Parliament.

E.T. didn’t just tug at our heartstrings; it changed British culture. Before long, Halloween had crept across the Atlantic like an orange and black fog, seeping into our schools, our shops, and our habits. Bonfire Night still flickered for a while, but its flame was starting to die out.

These days, it’s almost gone. Councils no longer bother with the big public displays, certainly not in Birmingham. Miserable devils. You’d think celebrating a bit of British history might be worth the effort, but not a chance. Birmingham City Council doesn’t seem to celebrate much of anything these days, perhaps because they’ve made such a hash of running the place.

But come the end of October, something is celebrated, loudly, colourfully, and with great enthusiasm. Halloween has become a massive night out.

For the younger ones, it’s all about knocking on doors, shouting “trick or treat”, and piling up the sweets. But as they grow older and reach that magical age when licensed premises open their doors, Halloween transforms into something altogether different.

For the girls, it’s all about basques, stockings, wings, and whatever themed attire fits the moment, stylish, striking, but perhaps not the best choice for a cold Midlands night. For the lads, the inspiration usually comes from films, pop culture, or whatever’s trending on social media. There’ll be plenty of Jokers, zombies, and this year, no doubt, a few dressed as Rumi from KPop Demon Hunters, a streaming hit that’s captured younger imaginations, though thankfully most of those fans won’t be out clubbing just yet.

And for the thousands who will be out, one organisation stands ready to make sure it all goes off safely: Vodbull.

Now, before anyone accuses me of brown-nosing, let’s get this clear, I’m not writing an advert. But credit where it’s due. Vodbull is a proper West Midlands success story. It’s a woman-owned business that’s been around for more than 25 years, and they’ve become a trusted name in the student nightlife scene.

What they do is deceptively simple but incredibly well-executed: they work with the biggest nightclubs in the region and with students at all the local universities and colleges to put on safe, lively, well-organised nights out. They understand the market, know the crowd, and most importantly, know how to keep things under control.

They’re not a bunch of chancers or fly-by-night promoters; they’re industry professionals who’ve earned their reputation by doing it right.

This Halloween, Vodbull are hosting two huge events, at Rosie’s and Snobs, both on Broad Street. More than twenty Vodbull staff will be on hand alongside venue teams and security, running giveaways, face-painting, and handing out devil horns by the dozen. There’ll be prizes for best costumes, best groups, and probably a few for most creative excuses come Sunday morning.

It might sound a bit dull to mention “safety”, but it matters. The truth is, some of our youngsters don’t always know how to look after themselves, let alone each other. Having experienced people on hand who know what they’re doing can make all the difference between a great night and a regrettable one.

All told, Vodbull expect to host over 4,000 party-goers this weekend, about the same number who follow Walsall FC, which puts it in perspective.

So yes, Guy Fawkes is long gone. Bonfire Night’s fading into memory. And Halloween, once an American curiosity glimpsed through a cinema screen, has become one of the biggest nights of the British year, especially here in the Midlands.

The world moves on. Traditions shift. And while part of me misses the smell of smoke and the thrill of a rogue banger in a tin can, I can’t help but admire the energy of it all.

Because come Friday night, as the costumes glitter and the music pounds through Broad Street, one thing’s for sure: the spirit of celebration, however it’s dressed, is still alive and well.