In October 2024 we were contacted by a film hire company looking for a 1930s printing press to appear printing banknotes in The Immortal Man, the latest production in the Peaky Blinders series.
Fortunately, we had just the machine for the rôle: a Vicobold art platen of the right vintage. The press had spent its working life in the printing department of a firm of undertakers, producing funeral stationery and orders of service until the decline of letterpress printing in the 1970s. It had then stood unused for decades and was in no condition to print.
The Vicobold itself has an interesting history. Although unmistakably British to many printers, it was actually the licensed British version of the German Victoria parallel-motion platen, manufactured by Frank F. Pershke Ltd. in London from designs produced by Rockstroh-Werke of Heidenau, near Dresden. Unlike a clamshell platen press, the Vicobold closes with a parallel motion, producing an exceptionally powerful and even impression. The scene was set in Berlin during the 1930s, and the press can be seen at the beginning of the film printing forged Bank of England notes.
As so often seems to be the case with production companies, I was given barely a week to make an old and rather scruffy machine look as though it had only recently been made in Germany.
Once the restoration was complete, Giles collected the press, together with a handsome old imposing surface, and delivered them to the Peaky Blinders set in Birmingham.
The rollers presented another challenge. Recovering rollers in new rubber normally takes at least a fortnight, but I knew just the people. I set off for West Yorkshire with the old rollers and explained the situation to the company. Fortunately, they turned out to be enthusiastic Peaky Blinders fans. Instead of the usual two weeks, they stripped, recovered and finished the rollers in just two days. I delivered them early one morning and collected them late the following day.
Bradford runs an extortion racket called a Clean Air Zone or something, which operates from midnight to midnight, so it seemed rather fitting that I should fall foul of this Peaky Blinders-style demand for money with menaces twice within the space of a few hours.
Armed with the newly recovered rollers, I headed for Birmingham to fit a new motor and commission the press on set. Everything went smoothly and the press was soon producing convincing counterfeit banknotes for the cameras. Unfortunately, it turned out that the home of the Peaky Blinders also runs a van protection racket called the Birmingham Clean Air Zone or something, and I had to pay that as well. By the end of the job, the only gangsters who had actually relieved me of any money were the local authorities.
By Patrick Roe, July 2026.
