Martin Fone's Blog, page 213
October 20, 2019
Pet Of The Week (2)
Here’s a cautionary tale.
American woman, Tina Springer, was travelling in a car as a
passenger with her seven-month-old Labrador Retriever by the name of Molly. The
puppy was a bit frisky on the journey and managed to land on a .22-caliber pistol,
which happened to be in the car.
Unfortunately, the pistol was loaded and went off, injuring
Tina in the thigh. She is expected to recover from her injuries.
There is a moral in this story somewhere, either don’t have a
pet or don’t leave a loaded pistol lying around. I will leave it to you to
decide which.
October 19, 2019
Surgical News Of The Week (2)
When I feel a bit down, I find a story about a medical
disaster peps me up no end.
At the recent Cheltenham Literary Festival, Samer Nashef, a
cardiac surgeon at Cambridge’s Papworth Hospital was regaling his audience with
details of what should have been a perfectly straightforward coronary bypass.
Unfortunately, the aorta ruptured.
Needing access to another artery, he settled on the patient’s
groin and with an assistant pushing on the damaged aorta to stem the blood
loss, cut the skin. There was some blood loss from that area and so to patch
things up down there, Nashef decided to cauterise the spot.
To his dismay, the solution used to prepare the area hadn’t
dried and the application of a flame meant that the patient’s private area went
up in flames. They were able to extinguish the fire using drapes.
Mercifully, the patient, an 80-year-old man, was none the
worse for his ordeal but he did wonder why, as well as a repaired heart, he had
come out of the theatre with a full Brazilian.
October 18, 2019
What Is The Origin Of (253)?…
Black as Newgate’s knocker
In these desperately politically correct days it is a brave
person who wades into a discussion of shade and colour but there are times when
you are compelled to describe the darkness of something. There are a number of
similes in the standard formulation of as x as y you can use that will not make
your hearer blanche but if you looking for something a little recherché,
why not consider as black as Newgate’s knocker?
There are two possible origins for this phrase, although
they both may flow from the same source, Newgate prison, upon whose site the
Old Bailey now stands. It was rebuilt five times before it was finally closed
in 1902 and demolished two years later. Newgate had a fearsome reputation,
housing criminals and debtors and from 1783 it was a place of execution,
initially the felons were dispatched from a platform outside the gaol but later
the executions were held indoors.
The knocker on the front door would be a symbol of terror.
It had to be used to summon a guard who would then admit the prisoner to what
was a noisy, foul, fetid cesspit of humanity. Whether the knocker was black is
open to some debate. Its association with the grim fate awaiting prisoners and
death would be enough to ascribe dark characteristics to do it. There is,
however, a black door knocker, said to be the original, mounted on a block of
wood from the prison which is used as a gavel at ceremonial dinners held in the
Lord Mayor’s and Sheriff’s Dining Room at the Central Criminal Court.
References to the Newgate knocker began to appear in the mid
eighteenth century, it has a pleasing alliteration, after all. In James Hoey’s
The Batchelor; or, Speculations of Jeoffry Wagstaffe, Esq of 1769 it is used to
describe something aged and tough, a figurative reference to the prison regime
but one easy to understand; “Dear Jack, I wish your old dad would tip off,
that you might come once more: damn it, he’s as old as the knocker of Newgate,
but I think as tough as a gad”. A gad was an iron bar.
I associate the 18th century with ridiculous,
over the top fashions worn by the upper classes but the lower orders,
particularly fashionable young men and especially costermongers, were not
impervious to the siren call of fashion. The Kentish Gazette in July 1781
described a Mr Julep who had given up a full-bottomed grizzle wig for a “spruce
club stiled a Newgate Knocker”. This hair-do involved a lock of hair being
twisted from the temple on either side of the head back towards the ear, making
a shape rather like the figure six.
It was a relatively long-lived fashion, references to it can
be found dating to the middle of the next century. To be flash, according to
one lad interviewed by Henry Mayhew for his London Labour and the London Poor
of 1851, the hair “ought to be long in front, and done in figure-six curls
or twisted back to the ear Newgate knocker style”. John Hotten’s Dictionary
of Modern Slang, Cant and Vulgar Words of 1859 helpfully commented that “the
shape is supposed to resemble the knocker on the prisoners’ door at Newgate”.
Two years later a correspondent to the Illustrated Times of London described a
mob as “bull-necked, heavy-jawed, and with the hair dressed after a fashion
known among its patrons as the Newgate knocker style”.
There is no direct association of the hair style to the colour black. Of course, many sporting the style would have black hair but the simile seems to be of a later date. The Cornishman in March 1881 helpfully included a column which investigated the oddities of dialects from around the country. It described “as black as Newgate knocker” as “a Cockney phrase”. I suspect that the origin is the knocker on Newgate prison which as well as spawning this rather colourful but later simile but also gave its name to a popular hairstyle. There is no reason to think that the hairstyle gave rise to the phrase.
October 17, 2019
Gin O’Clock – Part Seventy Nine
When I stop to consider how much I have spent on gin over the years, to paraphrase P. G. Wodehouse, I become white and shaken, like a dry martini. I blame my classical education. As a child I suffered from asthma. Whilst researching ancient herbalism I came across Pedanius Dioscorides’ De Materia Medica from around 70CE, in which he described the Romans using juniper berries steeped in wine as a way of warding off chest complaints. I started drinking gin and my asthma disappeared. Coincidence? I think not.
It is a misconception to think that what I call the ginaissance, the astonishing return to popularity of gin and the explosion in the number of distillers over the last decade, is a purely British phenomenon. Whilst the UK’s consumption of gin, in revenue terms, accounts for a quarter of the global total and it now exports more gin than it does beef, the spirit is increasing in popularity around the world with the market expected to grow by 4.4% per annum over the next five years. As in the UK there are distilleries popping up around the world, seeking to introduce their take on the spirit and to challenge the hegemony of the big distillers. Vancouver in British Columbia is no different.
Granville Island, on the other side of False Creek from downtown Vancouver, is a vibrant place to visit. Think of Borough market with arts facilities and shops. It is also home to The Liberty Distillery. Their name reflects the opportunity that changes in the law in British Columbia gave artisan distillers to strut their stuff, much as it did in the UK.
The bar area affords an excellent view of the two copper pot stills, 140 and 220 litres respectively in capacity and with a direct steam heating system, and the labyrinth of pipework which makes the production of the spirit possible. Liberty had four gins on offer and I decided I had to try them all, courtesy of their Gin Flight, a sample tray.
First up was Endeavour Gin which, I was told, used an organic triple-distilled, British Columbia wheat spirit as its base. Ten botanicals, all selected for their oil content, were then infused into the base during the re-distillation process. My personal preference in a gin is one that is heavily juniper led and this one really hit the spot. When I held the glass to my nose the aroma was an enticing mix of juniper, citrus, and floral elements. I was not disappointed with the taste, a hit of juniper to begin with followed by hints of citrus and pepper. The aftertaste was long and lingering with definite hints of liquorice and spiced pepper. It made for a smooth, intriguing drink whether tasted neat or with a mixer and at a moreish 45% ABV was a definite hit with me.
I have also developed a taste for Old Tom gins but Endeavour Old Tom Gin comes with a bit of a twist. Taking the Endeavour gin as its starting point it undergoes a further maceration process with an additional five botanicals and is then laid to rest for a few months in 220-litre French Oak barrels. The result is that instead of the sweeter note that I tend to associate with Old Toms it has a woody, almost whisky-like taste. Liberty say it is a gin for whisky drinkers. I say each should stick to their own.
A temptation some small distillers cannot resist is to throw as many botanicals into the mix as they can, a strange form of alchemy. Whilst it shows a degree of skill to come up with something drinkable, the toper is left wondering whether it was worth all the effort. Often, I feel with gins, less is more. Endeavour Origins uses 25 local botanicals which are slowly infused into the mix. It was surprisingly smooth drink with a complex interplay of sweetness and spice above a solid juniper base with a lingering, slightly minty aftertaste.
It takes a lot to convince me of the merits of flavoured gins. The fourth Liberty offering was Endeavour Pink Gin, which uses 18 botanicals in an organic wheat spirit. The botanicals are specifically chosen to give the spirit a natural rosy hue. On the nose it had intense floral notes and in the mouth was surprisingly powerful, it comes in at 47% ABV, with the juniper providing a solid base against which the more floral notes can shine. I was pleasantly surprised by this one.
The only downside is that, as I write, Liberty gins are not available in the UK. There is surely an opportunity for an enterprising wholesaler there or, alternatively, an excuse for a trip to Vancouver.
Until the next time, cheers!
October 16, 2019
Book Corner – October 2019 (3)
The Dead Secret – Wilkie Collins
If you have been following these book reviews with even a scintilla of interest, you would have worked out that I am a fan of Wilkie Collins. This is his fourth book, originally serialised in 1856 in Charles Dickens’ publication, Household Words, and in book form the same year. Whilst even his most fervent advocates would not place it amongst his best, some rather churlishly call it the last of his apprentice novels before he wrote his acclaimed masterpiece, The Woman in White, it is a lovely story and a book which has endured in popularity.
The secret, the contents of which are disclosed to the reader early on but not to all the characters, is to do with the true identity of the leading protagonist of the story, Rosamond Treverton. The dying Mrs Treverton entrusted her maid, the scatty and possibly deranged Sarah Leeson, with a letter containing a deathbed confession to pass on to her husband, Captain Treverton. Sarah can’t bring herself to do it and hides the letter in the Myrtle Room, a room in a deserted wing of a Cornish gothic house, Porthgenna Tower. The story concerns the unravelling of the secret, the impact of which could affect the fortunes of some of the protagonists. I will not spoil the story as it is entertaining.
Along the way we meet a wonderful array of characters. Some are there purely for comedic effect like the dyspeptic Mr Phippens who would not be out of place in the pages of a Dickens’ novel. When a little girl is offered an extra slice of bread and marmalade at breakfast, the martyr to his intestines warns, “think of Mr Phippen’s clogged apparatus – and say No thank you next time”. Then at Porthgenna Tower we meet the comedy duo, the butler, Mr Munder, who “has a great reputation for wisdom without the trouble of saying or doing anything to deserve it” and his side-kick, the housekeeper, Mrs Pentreath. The misanthropic Andrew Treverton, the self-styled Timon of London, and his servant, Shrowl, are wonderfully drawn and add a layer of gothic horror to the tale, even if the former’s Damascene conversion at the end is a little out of character and a tad melodramatic for my taste.
Collins’ portrayal of Sarah Leeson’s uncle, Uncle Joseph, engaging. As is his wont Collins introduces a character with a disability, Leonard Franklin, Rosamond’s husband, is blind, and by Victorian standards his portrayal is sympathetic and free from any cloying sentimentality. Although a relatively minor character, he is Rosamond’s rock and fount of all knowledge, she wishing at one point that she could give him her eyes as he is cleverer than she.
Collins’ strength, though, is his understanding and portrayal of female characters. Sarah Leeson is melancholy and tormented with good reason and her character is portrayed with feeling. It would have been too easy to make her into a figure of evil but the writer shows great understanding of the crisis of conscience that made her act in the way she did, notwithstanding the consequences. The pairing of Rosamond with her blind husband is inspired. It means that standard Victorian portrayal of the dynamics of a marriage where the man is the protector and the woman the weak dependent is turned on its head.
The book is written in an engaging style and the reader is anxious to follow the twists and turns of the narrative. As with most sensation novels of the period the plot turns on coincidences, many of which are so far-fetched as to defy credulity. But you have to ride with it, suspend belief and keep going. If you do, you will find you have read an entertaining novel, the popularity of which through the ages is not difficult to understand.
October 14, 2019
You’re Having A Laugh – Part Twenty Eight
The
English Mercurie hoax
Newspapers
are such a staple of out everyday life that it is difficult to imagine a time
when you had a source of news at your fingertips, whether reliable or not is,
of course, a matter of debate, and access to trenchant and thought-provoking
commentaries on the current state of affairs. But there was a time when we
existed without newspapers and, indeed, before the advent of the printing
press, they would have been an impossibility.
These
days it is generally accepted that the Mercurius Gallobelgicus, which was
produced in Cologne from 1594, written in Latin and consequently widely
distributed around Europe, was the first newspaper in the world, as we would
understand the term. But the eminent Scottish antiquarian, George Chalmers,
thought he had a scoop when he revealed to his readers in his Life of Thomas
Ruddiman, published in 1794, that the German rag was a Johnny-come-lately,
pipped to the post by the English Mercurie. In a burst of patriotic pride,
perhaps unusual in a Scotsman, he wrote, “it may gratify our national pride
to be told, that mankind are indebted to the wisdom of Elizabeth, and the prudence
of Burleigh, for the first newspaper”.
It is not
clear how Chalmers got wind of it, although a manuscript copy and some printed
versions had been bequeathed to the British Museum in 1766 by a Dr Birch along
with other documents, more on whom anon. And what a marvellous organ it was. It
wasn’t full of the daily trivia, minor crimes, scandals, political debates,
that we associate with newspapers today. No, it had bigger fish to fry.
With a
dateline of Whitehall, July 23, 1588 complete with gothic nameplate, faded
typeface and spellings from the era of early modern English, and consisting of
four pages, it contained three reports concerning the failed Spanish armada. It
started off with the spotting of the Spanish fleet off Plymouth and then the
actions of Sir Francis Drake and Sir Martin Frobisher, crucially misspelt as
Forbisher. It numbered the Spanish fleet at 150 and detailed the ships which had
been captured by English action. A further report, from Ostend dated July 27,
told of the serried ranks of Spanish soldiers, some 30,000 foot soldiers and
1,800 cavalry in all, massed on the coast ready to follow up the successful
Spanish fleet. It ended with a report dated
July 23 of an audience held by good Queen Bess with dignitaries of the City of
London.
For
forty-five years Chalmers’s patriotic claim that this was the first newspaper
was the accepted truth. But Thomas Watt was not convinced. Finding the original
manuscript in the bowels of the British Museum in 1839 he examined it with
interest. He noticed that the writing was identical to that in letters penned
to Dr Birch by Philip Yorke, the second Earl of Hardwicke. The manuscript had
been corrected in the hand of Dr Birch. There were other inconsistencies,
particularly in relation to typeface used and spellings. Watt concluded it was
a hoax perpetrated by Yorke and Birch and others.
It is not
known why they went to the trouble of perpetrating an elaborate hoax, perhaps
it was a literary challenge or just a bit of harmless fun. Even though it was debunked
as a fake, even today some authorities unwittingly quote from it . A recent
example was Channel 4 in their Elizabeth’s Pirates series. Students of hoaxes,
perhaps they should be called hoaxperts, will know that there is nothing more
dangerous than a group of English aristocrats in the eighteenth century with
time on their hands.
[image error]
If you enjoyed this, try Fifty Scams and Hoaxes by Martin Fone, finalist in the Non Fiction: Business/Sales/Economics category of the Independent Author Network Book of the Year awards 2019.
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https://www.troubador.co.uk/bookshop/business/fifty-scams-and-hoaxes/
October 13, 2019
Drug Smugglers Of The Week
It’s hard to have much sympathy for drug smugglers and these
stories, if they show anything, reveal that there is no such thing as easy
money.
Three men were sailing off the Colombian coast near Tumaco
when their vessel capsized. Thrown into the Pacific Ocean, all they could do
was hang on for dear life to their cargo which, conveniently, floated and acted
as lifejackets.
They were spotted by the Colombian army and rescued none the
worse for their ordeal. Unfortunately, their impromptu lifejackets attracted
some interest and on closer inspection were found to contain cocaine
hydrochloride. In total, they had 1,265 kg of the drug which they were
attempting to smuggle across the high seas.
They have been charged with drug trafficking and
manufacturing narcotics.
Police were chasing four suspected drug smugglers off the
coast of Spain when their boats collided, the police launch span out of control
and threw four of the officers into the sea. Instead of making good their
escape, the suspects nobly responded to appeals to rescue the officers.
A fat lot of good that did them.
The drenched police could not fail to notice that there were
some eighty bundles bobbing around on the water. Closer inspection revealed
that they contained around 3,000kg of hashish and the foursome had their
collars felt for drug trafficking. From heroes to zeroes in a few minutes.
If you are going to do a bit of drug running, make sure you
don’t commit any traffic offences and that you have a string of outstanding
warrants against you. These words of wisdom were something Jessica Bernice Kropp
chose to ignore as she drove in Arkansas. She was stopped by Officer Kenneth
Looney (great name) who, as he was taking down her particulars, couldn’t help
noticing a rather intriguing hair bow on Jessica’s head.
On closer inspection, he realised that it was a bundle of meth, cunningly disguised. A work of genius if Jessica hadn’t overlooked her other misdemeanours. She is now charged with drug offences and on bail.
It’s a cruel world.
October 12, 2019
Coincidence Of The Week
Kyler Bourgeous had the misfortune to be gored and trampled
by a bison at the Antelope Island State Park in Utah in June, picking up a
collapsed lung, broken ribs, and internal injuries for his troubles. Happily,
now recovered he has begun dating a young lady by the name of Kayleigh Davis.
Kyler thought it would be fun to show his new squeeze the
spot where he met his unfortunate accident. Distracted by a group of bikers,
Kayleigh suddenly realised that a bison was coming her way at a rate of knots.
She tried to outrun the animal to the nearby lake but it flipped her up into
the air, goring her in the thigh and causing her to break her ankle when she
hit the ground.
Kayleigh, fearing a second attack, stayed still, the bison
soon lost interest and Kyler was able to summon help.
Apparently, if you are charged by an angry bison, the
recommendation is to stay still. Sounds good in theory.
If the couple are still dating, my suggestion to Kyler is to
play safe, go for a pizza or a drink. There are forces out there beyond our
ken.
October 11, 2019
What Is The Origin Of (252)?…
Believe you me
This phrase has always mystified as it seems to be out of
kilter with the normal rules of grammar. It is used to emphasise a piece of information
or a statement of opinion, showing the speaker’s passionate belief in its
veracity. The normal English sentence construction follows the pattern of
subject followed by verb followed by object. It is second nature to us but here
we have a verb followed by the subject followed by the object.
The key to understanding this formulation is to realise that believe is what grammarians call an imperative, a command to do something. If we recognise that then we can find a plethora of examples of what seems to be a distorted ordering of words . The Bard of Stratford was no stranger to this stylistic trick. In Romeo and Juliet, Act 3, Scene 4, Lord Capulet says, “and bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next.” Phebe in As You Like It (Act 5, Scene 2) says, “if this be so, why blame you me to love you?” And we cannot overlook the wonderful line from Hamlet that Shakespeare gives to Rosencrantz in Act 4, Scene 2 and which I always look forward to with eager anticipation; “take you me for a sponge, my lord?”
Of course, you could argue that it was the constraints of the metres with which Shakespeare was working that forced him into such examples of grammatical gymnastics and whilst there may be some truth in that, believe you me, you need to consider the King James’ Bible of 1611. Recognised as representing one of the high points of English literature and freed from the constraints of metre, it too has this formulation for the imperative. In Matthew 14:16 we find, “they need not depart; give ye them to eat”.
The curious thing about our phrase is that it did not appear
in print until October 1808 and then on the other side of the pond, the Eye, a
Philadelphia magazine. It noted, “now this was wrong, believe you me”. Almost
seventy years later, in July 1877, the Catholic World noted “we’ve not come
to the worst yet, believe you me”. It was not until the twentieth century
that the phrase became really established, long after this formulation of the imperative
had died out in other phrases. In the eighteenth-century writers used other
phrases where ours may have been used, such as “would you believe it?”
(Tobias Smollett in his 1749 translation of Gil Blas) and “believe it or
not, as you chuse” (William Cowper in a letter dating to June 1792). It is
as if it was not known or available to them.
Why would that be if the grammatical formulation was commonplace in earlier times and why did it pop up first in America? The answer may lie with the Irish immigrants. A trait amongst older people in Belfast when speaking English was to put a you after an imperative as in “go you away” or “sit you down” and to interject a you between the verb and object, as in “put you it away”. Believe you me was a commonplace idiom there.
It may be the Irish immigrants brought this linguistic oddity over to America with them, a hangover surely of the grammatical formulation that was prevalent in Tudor and Stuart English. Nina Wilcox Putnam wrote a book in 1919 entitled Believe You Me!, a comic novel which found some popularity at the time and used the language of the characters who graced its pages. Its popularity may have brought the phrase to a wider audience, although my guess is that it was already in use in everyday speech. It is rather like a platypus, a phrase of ancient formulation stranded in a modern world.
October 10, 2019
Gin O’Clock – Part Seventy Eight
I’ve always thought that if you are going to spend over thirty pounds for a bottle of so-called premium gin and don’t propose to drink it neat, you need to be a bit choosy as to what you mix with it. A duff tonic can ruin a great gin but sometimes a great tonic can rescue a mediocre gin. If there is one thing I have learnt from my exploration of the ginaissance is that there is not a one size fits all solution to finding the perfect tonic. You need to find a tonic which will complement and enhance the flavours of your chosen gin and, inevitably, as gins occupy a wide taste and flavour spectrum, so you need an array of tonics to create the perfect G&T.
One of my bugbears is that for those of us looking for diversity in our tonics, we are poorly served by the market. The old hegemony of Schweppes has been successfully challenged by the remarkable rise of Fever-Tree. This has prompted Schweppes to rethink their offering and launch a reinvigorated and heavily discounted response, Schweppes 1783, which I wrote about some time ago (https://wp.me/p2EWYd-3nk). Welcome as this, I am always a little uneasy about an oligopoly and there are signs, I’m pleased to say, that several micro tonics are beginning to emerge to give discerning drinkers a wider choice.
During a recent visit to Cornwall I was introduced to a couple of local tonics which have emerged, specifically to enhance and complement gins distilled in the area. Sea Buck Tonic comes from St Ives and at first blush you wonder whether you should pour it into your gin. The reason for my hesitation was that it is a golden colour rather than the clear liquid you would normally associate with a tonic. The reason for the colour is that the quinine is extracted naturally from cinchona bark. Cornish water, rich in minerals, is used but what gives the tonic its distinctive taste is the tiny, orange berries from the sea buckthorn bushes which grow nearby.
It is a very intense, citrusy tonic. I preferred the lighter version which seemed a little more subtle. A welcome addition but I suspect that its colour will preclude it from penetrating the mass market.
Many a good idea (and even more bad ones) are hatched in a pub and the idea behind Navas Tonic was born in the Ship Inn in Mousehole when Kim Conchie and Marcus Rampley surveyed the spirits shelf groaning with Cornish gins but not a local tonic to complement them. The tonic, launched in February 2019, takes its name from the little village of Port Navas, nestling in the countryside around the Helford estuary.
The bottle has a rather impressive design, using green and red to good effect, supposedly reflecting the colours of the rocks found in Kynance Cove and the Lizard Peninsula. Whether you buy that or not, it is pleasing on the eye. As with Sea Buck natural Cornish spring water is used and the quinine is extracted naturally from cinchona bark.
But there the similarities end. The colour of the tonic is clear, the intrinsic bitterness of the quinine is pared down with the introduction of woody notes and its distinctive flavouring is provided by a combination of citrus elements, principally pink grapefruit, lemon and bitter orange, along with bergamot and lime leaf oils. I found it had a very vibrant, crisp taste and it is a very welcome addition to my range of tonics.
If I was a betting man, Navas is likely to have wider appeal, not necessarily one to worry the likes of Schweppes and Fever-tree, but one that may encourage others to tap into a tonic market that has considerable room to grow.
Until the next time, cheers!
