If there is one thing that is going to induce suicidal urges in someone more than:
... it is Birmingham. (pr. Beeeerminggguumm) The feeling of dread as the train is consumed by the Stalinesque austerity of New Street station is palpable. You can see the life force draining from fellow passengers. The windswept concrete piazzas of the shopping precincts are enough to have .38 of Smith & Wesson's finest whistling through your swede in no time at all. If New St. is the gate to Hades, then the Bullring is Hell. As Copernicus once said 'Something terrible this way comes. Next stop Birmingham!'
Such, in any case, is the received wisdom amongst Southerners, Northerners, Jocks and indeed anyone who isn't lucky enough to hail from Mercia's fair bossom. Birmingham is actually one of the greatest cities on God's Earth with a shopping centre that makes grown women drip.
Like London, Birmingham has it own BT Tower but with an interesting feature. Although it has no floors making it a big concrete mast with a staircase, It is designed to withstand a nuclear blast from one mile away retaining britains communication network as it was a 1960s design built during the Cold War.