You see this is a bug bear of mine.
Who came from Nottingham?
The fucking Sherrif, that's who.
Robin was from Loxkey.
Where's Loxley?
Sheffield.
Loxley Chase was a hunting area set up by the Normans and it stretched from Loxley down to Sherwood.
Robin wouldn't be shitting on his own doorstep. He'd be off pikeying stuff from those soft beggars down in Sherwood Forest and bringing his hoard back up to South Yorkshire for a piss up with the clergy and a bloke who was called little but was actually the great great great great great great uncle of Bob Booker. The bloke is buried in the cemetery at Hathersage. He'd been on the lash at Fox House then Chequers before he tripped and fell on his staff and broke his own fucking neck. The soft twat.
They can claim the Sherrif.
Another little known fact is that Robert Locksley, his real name not his stage name, was a distant relative of Bob Marley who wrote a song, inspired by his forebear, that Eric Clapton went on to have great success with.