But there were also more unlikely subjects, such as the People's Steeplejack, Fred Dibnah.
There was also what purported to be a War Memorial, but which I prefer to view as a before-and-after allegory of the danger posed by unlicensed chiropractors.
This won't hurt a bit...
Then came a statue of a man whose only identification was the single word CHADWICK, carved boldly into his plinth. No doubt I should know who Chadwick was, and why he needs no further introduction, but I don't.
I walked round all four sides, but no more writing was to be found. There was a however a mute clue, in the form of a plaque on the plinth ("plaque on the plinth" is a wonderfully cheering phrase to type or indeed to say aloud, by the way). From this I infer that it was Chadwick's custom to don a poke bonnet and pass amongst the poor of nineteenth-century Bolton, bringing cheer to all he met. I will be rather sad if this turns out not to be the case.
(Oh, all right. I googled him, of course. The statue is probably of this bloke. [ETA: Or, more likely still, this one. Thanks to mraltariel for the link.])
Finally, I would so like to see a Romeo and Juliet story in which the son of Sizzles falls in love with the daughter of The Food Factory.
Bolton beats Verona, any day of the week.