Martin Fone's Blog, page 305
February 4, 2017
Innovation Of The Week (4)
The passing of a loved one is a sad occasion and most of us like to keep something to remind us of them. Like it or loathe it body art, or as some of us prefer to call it, tattoos, is increasingly part of the look of individuals. Wouldn’t it be great if you could have one of your relative’s tattoos hanging up on the wall to remind you of them when they have shuffled off this mortal coil? Well, I was reading this week, that is just the service one enterprising outfit, called savemyink.tattoo and based in the States, is offering.
Your funeral director of choice has to contact them within 48 to 72 hours of the death. The savemyink gang then send them what they euphemistically call a recovery kit – presumably a sharp knife and some preserving fluid. Once the tat has been removed, it is sent to savemyink and, hey presto, within three months you have a framed piece of artwork to hang on your wall. There is even a choice of six different frames and each comes replete with museum quality UV glass.
It will be a talking point, for sure.
Filed under: Culture, News Tagged: death of a loved one, innovations in the funeral business, savemyink.tattoo, tattoos of dead loved ones preserved
February 3, 2017
What Is The Origin Of (114)?…
Queer the pitch
This phrase is used to indicate that someone has done something that has had the effect of spoiling the business in hand. Variants exist where the definite article is replaced by the possessive such as one’s or their or my.
For many of a certain generation their first encounter with the word queer, either adjectivally or as a noun, was as a pejorative term for someone who was or was considered to be homosexual. But queer has had a long and colourful history as the English language evolved. At the start of the 16th century it was used as an adjective to describe someone or thing which was strange, peculiar or eccentric, probably deriving its etymology from the Low German quer which meant perverse or off centre. Interestingly, the use of the term to describe a homosexual is directly from this meaning.
In the 18th century and later queer as an adjective also took the meaning of feeling out of sorts or unwell. Charles Dickens used the word in this context in the Pickwick Papers, “legs shaky – head queer – round and round – earthquake sort of feeling – very”. By then it had also taken on its third grammatical form, a verb, initially meaning to puzzle, ridicule or cheat, but from around 1812 taking the sense of to spoil or ruin or to jeapordise – precisely the meaning it has in our idiom.
Pitch as a noun has a variety of meanings ranging from the quality of a sound governed by the rate of vibrations producing it to a piece of land on which a sport or a game is played to an area where a street vendor or performer stations themselves to attract a crowd or custom. It is this latter sense that is deployed in our phrase. The phrase first appeared in print in The Swell’s Night Guide of 1846, “Nanty coming it on a pall, or wid cracking to queer a pitch”. In the days before telephone boxes and the internet if someone wanted to enjoy the services of a sex worker, there were a number of organs they could turn to help them in their search. Swell’s Night Guide was one and the pitch referred to in its usage is the area in which the worker operated.
Interestingly, as the 19th century progressed our phrase was taken up by theatrical types who used it as a synonym for upstaging. In a theatrical memoir dating to 1866 we have this rather dramatic description of an incident in a theatre and the admission that our phrase was part of the theatrical argot, “The smoke and fumes of “blue fire” which had been used to illuminate the fight came up through the chinks of the stage, fit to choke a dozen Macbeths, and – pardon the little bit of professional slang – poor Jamie’s “pitch” was “queered” with a vengeance”.
Whilst we are on the subject of queer, we may as well deal with on queer street which is used to describe someone who is in some difficulty, usually financial. Although it has been associated with Carey Street which is where the bankruptcy courts were held, the courts only moved there in the 1840s. Queer Street was defined in a revised edition of Grose’s Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue as “wrong, improper, contrary to one’s wish. It is queer street, a cant phrase to signify that it is wrong, or contrary to our wish”. In other words, it takes on the meaning for queer that was current at the time.
Filed under: Culture, History Tagged: Charles Dickens, meanings of pitch, meanings of queer, Night Guide, origin of on queer street, origin of queer the pitch, Pickwick Papers, theatrical argot
February 2, 2017
I Don’t Want To Belong To Any Club That Will Accept People Like Me As A Member – Part Thirty One
The Scotch Cattle
In the early 19th century employment rights were rather rudimentary and working conditions often intolerable. With the onset of the industrial revolution the landscape of South Wales was scarred by pits and brooding iron works. Workers were exploited and seen as expendable by their employers.
But the miners and steel workers in the area were not prepared to be intimidated and to meekly accept their fate. They formed a secret collective whose aim was to inculcate a spirit of unity amongst their fellow workers and their motto was “Y gelyn pob dychryndod”, the enemy of all fear. It is not quite clear why they called themselves the Scotch cattle. Some suggest that it is an appropriation of the word scotches which was used on the railways to prevent waggons from moving, the implication being that they could bring production to a halt. Another theory is that they named themselves after the magnificent Highland cattle which the rich at the time kept as a sort of status symbol. Others suggest that it is a reference to the leather jackets the miners wore which together with their blackened faces gave them the appearance of bulls while others take it to be a reference to the verb scotch, meaning causing injury or harm to someone.
Whatever the origin of their name the Scotch Cattle adopted as their insignia a bull’s head which they included on their notices and daubed on their targets. They targeted anyone they saw as siding with the bosses – blacklegs who worked when their colleagues were on strike, corrupt landlords, bailiffs and owners of truck shops in which the workers had to shop because part of their wages were paid in vouchers only redeemable there.
As they operated as a secret society numbers are uncertain – one report suggested as many as 9,000 but this is likely to be an over-estimate. What we do know is that they would congregate in isolated areas to meet and discuss possible targets, guards prowling around to ward off unwanted visitors. Ordinary members would form what was known as the herd and the leader of the group was the bull. When an attack was to be carried out it would be done by a herd from another village to reduce the possibility of someone being recognised.
The Scotch Cattle were remarkably disciplined and concentrated their efforts on property rather than individuals. Their main MO was industrial sabotage, smashing up coal trains, ripping up railway track and sinking canal barges. In 1822 they set fire to 30 coal wagons at Llanhilleth, a conflagration that burnt for 4 days, according to contemporary reports. But their main weapon was instilling a climate of fear on the communities, with blood-curdling messages.
In 1832 the Home Office offered a reward of £100 for information leading to the arrest of some of the Cattle and in 1834 a breakthrough of sorts was made. A gang of Scotch Cattle tried to break into the home of a strike-breaker, Thomas Thomas, and in the ensuing scuffle Thomas’ wife, Joan, was shot and died two days later. One of the gang, Edward Morgan, was fingered for the murder and was hung in Monmouth Prison in 1835, although it is almost certain he didn’t do it.
This didn’t entirely curtail the activities of the Scotch Cattle. Rather it was the rise of Chartism and organised Trades Unionism and by the 1840s they were a thing of the past.
Filed under: Culture, History Tagged: hanging of Edward Morgan, Llanhilleth,
February 1, 2017
Book Corner – February 2017 (1)
Citizen Clem – John Bew
For those of a certain political persuasion the state of the Labour party is a source of sadness and despair. But it is perhaps salutary to reflect that they have been there before. After the 1931 election triggered by Ramsay McDonald’s defection, they were reduced to just 52 MPs. The timing of John Bew’s magisterial biography of Clement Attlee could not be better and perhaps provides some hope for the future.
Attlee has always suffered from being underappreciated, the archetypal sheep in a sheep’s clothing. Even Bew remarks that his outstanding quality was that he had no outstanding qualities. But his achievements are monumental. He co-operated with Churchill to create the National Government following Chamberlain’s resignation in May 1940 and held the coalition together, concentrating on domestic matters whilst giving Winston the freedom to play on the international stage. The Labour party’s landslide victory in 1940 opened the way for the establishment of institutions that characterise what many people still feel mighty proud of our country today – the National Health Service, the Social Security system, National Insurance, nationalisation of major sources of production and the extension of workers’ employment protections. All this was achieved whilst Britain was on its knees economically, the Cold War had broken out, the Empire was being transformed into a Commonwealth and Attlee was having to fight off challenges to his leadership from the Bevanites. No wonder his statue is one of four great British prime ministers in the members’ lobby of the House of Commons. We are unlikely to see his like again.
Bew traces Attlee’s journey from a conventional, public school educated boy who was mildly jingoistic to what we would now term a social worker in Spitalfields to a political agitator on street corners to an elected MP and then leader of his party. The tale is told chronologically, but with one twist. Bew feels that it is worth exploring Attlee’s reading habits at various stages of his development to see if they shine a light on his thinking and influences. I’m not persuaded by the logic of this – my reading list is pretty catholic and apart from suggesting that I am open to all ideas, I don’t think it tells a lot about me. But we are treated to interesting analyses of William Morris’ Road to Nowhere, Kipling, Gibbon and Trollope, a passion for whom Attlee shared with Churchill. Surely the latter kiboshes Bew’s theory?
That said, the book is well paced and entertaining with enough to keep the general reader interested. The parallels with today are compelling, not least the observation that the weakness, nay absence, of an effective opposition created a vacuum in which the Communist party and the Mosleyite Fascists were allowed to play. Attlee did not help his cause by being inscrutable and writing an autobiography which was not only as dull as ditch water but also painfully self-effacing. He was the perfect chairman who drew the best out of others but underneath there were two shining principles – the desire to transform the lot of the working classes who were denied their land fit for heroes after the First World War and the desire to retreat from jingoistic imperialism and allow the colonies some degree of say in their destiny.
Attlee saw active service in the First World War, in Gallipoli – he was convinced that Churchill’s strategy was right but it was let down by its execution – and in Mesopotamia where he was shot up the arse carrying the red flag of his regiment, a fate we could cheerfully wish on many of our current crop of politicos.
A wonderful book, a timely reminder of what a titan Attlee was and one that offers hope for a resurgence of a social democratic party in years to come.
Filed under: Books, Culture, History Tagged: Citizen Clem, Clement Attlee, John Bew, Mosleyite Fascists, Ramsay McDonald, the Labour party, William Morris' Road To Nowhere
January 31, 2017
Quacks Pretend To Cure Other Men’s Disorders But Rarely Find A Cure For Their Own – Part Forty Nine
Grimstone’s Eye Snuff
Snuff again. Produced at Grimstone’s Eye Snuff Manufactory at 39, Broad Street, Bloomsbury in London the snuff was heavily advertised and sold between the 1830s and 1860s. Perhaps fortunately, although it masqueraded under the title of snuff, it did not contain tobacco. Quite what was in it is by no means clear. One contemporary, Dr A L Wigan, claimed that it was nothing more than black pepper whilst the Lancet Analytical Sanitary Commission reckoned that the ingredients included orris root, savory, rosemary, lavender and prodigious quantities of salt. Grimstone claimed that it was made “of the most choice aromatic and odiferous herbs”.
As we have come to expect with exponents of the art of quackery, this eye-watering concoction came with astonishing claims as to its efficacy and glowing testimonials. Banner headlines proclaimed “Sight restored, nervous head-ache cured” and notified the reader of its royal patronage, “under the patronage of his late Majesty, her royal highness the Duchess of Kent and the Lords of the Treasury”. If it was good enough for the likes of them, then it would be good enough for ordinary Joes. It was efficacious “in removing disorders incident to the eyes and head” and “will prevent diseases of a scrofulous nature affecting the nerves of the head”.
As well as giving “a natural sweetness to the breath” it could “be taken as frequently as other snuffs with the most perfect safety and gratification to the consumer”. Users were advised, however, to be sure to wash their eyes every morning with warm milk and water “to remove whatever secretions may have been produced during the night”. The snuff was available in canisters of varying sizes with prices ranging from 1s 3d, 2s 4d and 4s 4d. Consumers were warned to guard against bogus canisters – only those bearing the signature of W Grimstone were the real deal.
Testimonials, of course, were glowing. Dr Andrews was quoted in one advert as claiming in 1831 that “the herbaceous quality of the snuff had such an effect on the stomach, as well as the nerves of the head, from the tenacious sympathy of the membrane of the nose with the nervous system, that Grimstone Eye Snuff, when taken frequently, must prevent any contagion entering the system and recommends its universal adoption”. Cheques in the post. Ordinary folk also swore to its efficacy. One, aged 94, was blind for six years but after using the snuff could see again and one Fothergill, a youngster at 71, had their long-standing inflammation which had caused blindness “quite cured”. An Elizabeth Robson of 19, Bell Street, Edgware Road, Marylebone even went into poetic raptures about it, “wise was thine head and great was thy design/ our precious sight from danger now set free”
But it was not all plain sailing for our Mr Grimstone and his problems centred around using the name snuff and being coy about what actually was in his powder. Although there was no tobacco in his product and so it would have been exempt from any taxes associated with snuff, the officials of the Stamp Office were on his case and made several attempts to prosecute him for selling an excisable product without paying tax. They also went after the retailers whom Grimstone supplied. This did the trick as Grimstone was besieged by angry shopkeepers demanding that he took back his stock and paid their fines. Grimstone was left insolvent with debts of around £6,000, although he was still flogging his powder until he died in 1861 aged 71.
Apart from clearing the nasal passages, it is hard to think it did much good.
Filed under: Culture, History Tagged: cost of Grimstone's Eye Snuff, efficacy of Grimstone's Eye Snuff, Grimstone's Eye Snuff, insolvency of Grimstone, snuff, the Grimstone Eye Snuff Manufactory at 39 Broad Street
January 30, 2017
Gin o’Clock – Part Twenty Two
It was the great Athenian tragedian, Aeschylus, who wrote in Agamemnon that wisdom comes through suffering. Rather like Icarus I chose to reach for the sun and instead came crashing down to earth. No, I’ve not been overdoing it with the gin. What I’m talking about is my early experiments with making my own gin.
The hooch was a brackish brown colour, not the bright piss colour of Ungava but a colouration that is suggestive of some urinary complaint. Some diligent enquiries on the internet reassured me that this was not a problem. This is exactly what many commercial gins look like before they are distilled for a final time. As I don’t have a still, then I’m going to have to lump it, although sieving the contents will get rid of the floating sediment.
The major problems, though, were taste and aroma. The aroma was heavily peppered and to the taste it was like firewater with a very heavily pronounced spicy aftertaste. The problem, clearly, was that I had overdone it with the mix and that the ratio between juniper berries was out of kilter with the amount of other botanicals I had used. And, of course, whilst you can relatively easily add, what you can’t do is extract. So, other than dilute, I’m rather saddled with my first batch.
The only thing to do was to pick myself up, brush myself down, massage my by now heavily bruised ego and start again. This time I was going to play it safe. I had about 20 centilitres of triple distilled French grain vodka left to which I added 20 grams of juniper berries. This I left to mascerate. Originally it was going to be for 24 hours but some unavoidable family matters made me rather take my eye off the ball so that it was some 48 hours later that I was able to give the mix my full attention. There was a slight discolouration and the majority of the juniper berries were floating on the top but the smell and taste was much more like a gin.
It was at this point that I added some of the botanical mix – coriander, angelica, orange peel, cassia and cubeb peppers as before – but this time, a much more conservative 5 grams – and after agitating vigorously – that is the distiller’s term for stirring – I allowed it to mascerate for a few days, checking and agitating daily. After a week I judged that enough was enough as the mix had a recognisably ginny smell to it and whilst it was spicy, it was not unpleasantly so.
The next stage is to strain the mixture through some muslin or cheesecloth to capture the by now heavily marinated berries and other jetsam. I did this half a dozen times using fabrics with increasingly smaller mesh and, amazingly, the spirit started to clear. It still had a bit of a hue but was not as off putting as the original. Alternatively, you can use a water filter jug such as Brita make. I then bottled the spirit, put a label on naming it Hooch #2 and sampled it with some Fever Tree Premium Tonic. Not bad, if I say so myself, although the 200 or so distillers surfing the ginaissance have nothing to worry about – yet!
Filed under: Gin Tagged: Aeschylus, Fever-Tree premium Indian Tonic water, ginaissance, Icarus, making your own gin, masceration, Ungava Canadian Premium Gin, wisdom comes through suffering
January 29, 2017
Traffic Offence Of The Week
What happens when you mix a very tall man with a very small car? A conviction for dangerous driving, that’s what, if the curious case of 6 foot 7 inch Adam Elliott is anything to go by.
A car salesman, he was delivering a Ford KA convertible to a client but the problem was that there was not enough room in the cabin to accommodate his frame. The answer was obvious – he stuck his head out of the sun roof and drove off over the Tyne Bridge in Newcastle.
Unfortunately, the police were not so enamoured with Adam’s ingenuity, stopped him and accused him of driving whilst standing up, something he denied. However, when in front of the beak, he pleaded guilty. He was banned for dangerous driving and distracting other road users and will be sentenced on February 27th.
Still, at least he’s had his moment in the sun (and other newspapers).
Filed under: Humour, News Tagged: Adam Elliott, Ford KA, man arrested for driving a car whilst standing up, Tyne Bridge in Newcastle
January 28, 2017
Exercise Trends Of The Week
January is the month when we start the year off full of good intentions – exercise more, drink and eat less, you know the type of thing. My January is spent fighting off these urges, usually successfully. I’ve never understood the allure of yoga. Quite why anyone would want to bend their body into completely unnatural poses is beyond me.
Still, if ever in a moment of weakness I considered taking up yoga, I came across a couple of hot new trends this week that might just tempt me. The first is called bieryoga and seems to originate from Germany. The routines adopt the standard yogic poses but the instructors work a bottle of beer into the routine so you end up taking up a pose with a beer bottle in your hand or balanced on your head. The good thing, so the blurb says, is that you get to drink the contents of a couple of bottles during the session.
If beer is not to your taste, over in San Francisco (natch) you can go to a Ganja Yoga session featuring a heady cocktail of cannabis-fuelled yoga which makes the students become “more mindful and free”. Whilst striking a pose you take a toke on a spliff, which might make balancing a challenge towards the end of a session.
Then again, I might just cut out the middle man and go straight for the booze and weed. It makes more sense.
Filed under: Humour, News Tagged: bieryoga, Ganja Yoga, New Year resolutions
January 27, 2017
What Is The Origin Of (113)?…
Take with a grain of salt
When searching through the internet you come across a lot of stuff that you have to take with a grain (or pinch) of salt. We use this phrase to suggest that we are applying a degree of scepticism to what has been relayed to us. After all, we don’t want to be seen to be too gullible. But where does the phrase come from?
Salt was a very important condiment in ancient times but as it was difficult to get it was highly valued. It has spawned a number of idioms which pepper our language. Roman legionaries were said to have been paid in part in salt to make their nosh more palatable, the origin of our word salary (from salarium). The phrase, to be worth your salt, was used as approbation of your worth and effectiveness. To eat salt with someone was used to signify that you enjoyed their company and friendship. In polite society the salt cellar was placed in the middle of the table and so to be above the salt meant that you were sitting close to your host and, as a consequence, in a favourable position. Trollope used salt, the salt of youth, to indicate spirit. And, of course, we have the Biblical salt of the earth and many more usages.
In Book 23 of his Naturalis Historia, Pliny the Elder tells the tale of Mithridates the Great who in an attempt to resist assassination developed a panacea which was effective against all known toxins. He took his potion daily – according to Pliny it consisted of over 50 different additives, each tested for its potency on prisoners, which were ground into a powder and made into a chewable tablet which he took addito salis grano, with a grain of salt. It is known today as the mithridate, although what it was and whether it was effective is not clear.
What remains of classical texts is down to happenstance and the diligence (or otherwise) of scribes, often monks, who as part of their daily duties would copy out manuscripts. They were notoriously inaccurate – I spent part of my third year at university comparing versions of the same text trying to decipher what was the original – and often prone to introduce their own thought or the mores of the time into the texts. And this is probably what we have here.
Medieval theories were that Pliny was sceptical as to the veracity of the Mithridatic story and was reporting it with the rider to take it with a pinch of salt. This is unlikely to be correct, firstly because grain of salt doesn’t appear to have been a signal in Roman literature to be wary of what was being said. If he really meant to put the reader on warning, Pliny would probably have used something more current. Secondly, the Latin phrase that has been associated with our idiom is a piece of mediaeval Latin, cum grano salis, which almost certainly didn’t appear in the original text.
The figurative usage of the phrase dates to at least the 17th century. John Trapp’s Commentary on the Old and New Testaments, dated 1648, contains the sentence, “this is to be taken with a grain of salt”. The variant, pinch, is a much more modern variant, probably appearing for the first time in print in 1948, ironically, in a book about Roman History, F R Cowell’s Cicero and the Roman Republic, “Cicero and his friends took more than the proverbial pinch of salt before swallowing everything written by these earlier authors”.
Of course, a pinch is more than a grain. We are much more profligate these days.
Filed under: Culture, History Tagged: mithridate, Mithridates the Great, Naturalis Historia, origin of above the salt, origin of salary, origin of take with a grain of salt, origin of take with a pinch of salt, origin of to be worth one's salt, Pliny the Elder, transmission of manuscripts
January 26, 2017
Double Your Money – Part Fourteen
The Salad Oil crisis of 1963
This cautionary tale involves a notorious conman, Anthony De Angelis, American Express and Warren Buffett, amongst others. Tino, as he was known to his mates, had previous having taken advantage of the National School Lunch Act and supplying 2 million pounds of uninspected meat to the Federal Government, overcharging them along the way. When the con was discovered, De Angelis went bankrupt but he brushed himself down, picked himself up and started on his next con.
Taking advantage of the Government’s Food for Peace programme designed to supply surplus goods to a Europe recovering from the ravages of the Second World War, from 1955 he traded in vegetable oil products, cotton and soybeans. By 1962 Tino was sufficiently established that he felt that he could corner the soybean market, by buying soybean oil on the futures market. His plan was to drive up the price of vegetable oil, increasing the value of his contracts and enhancing the profits available to him from the futures market. Of course, Tino didn’t have the financial resources to support his ambitious plans so he used his large inventories of commodities to collateralise loans from banks and finance companies.
American Express now enters our story. They had just opened up a new division providing warehouses and eager for stuff to store in them wrote receipts for millions of pounds of vegetable oil which de Angelis took to a broker who promptly lent cash on the back of them – an easy way to get a pile of cash. Naturally, American Express would want to satisfy itself that De Angelis actually had the vegetable oil that was collateralising the loans but the resourceful conman had thought of that.
Many of the tanks sitting in the Amex warehouse were full of water with only the minimum of oil floating at the top to satisfy auditors who were doing spot samples; an old trick that I as a greenhorn auditor with a fresh set of coloured pencils was warned about in the late 1970s. The other stunt Tino pulled was to connect each of the tanks with pipes so as the auditors made their way along the line, the oil was pumped from one tank to the other. By the time the con unravelled De Angelis had loans from some 51 companies.
And unravel it did. At its heyday de Angelis was claiming to have more vegetable oil than the Federal Government reported for America as a whole. Instead of inventories of $150 million, his company, Allied Crude Vegetable Oil Refining Co, had just $6m. The dozy auditors were tipped off and found that most of the tanks contained just water. In November 1963 the bottom fell out of the futures market – the price of soybean oil falling from $9.875 to $7.75 in two days of trading, wiping out the value of de Angelis’ loans. Instead of selling out at the top of the market and making good the deficiency in cash, Allied Crude had no alternative but to file for bankruptcy.
The market turmoil coincided with the assassination of JFK and the market went into freefall. One of the brokerages de Angelis used, Ira Haupt & Co, was left holding $450 million in securities and debts of $37m it couldn’t pay and folded. Another, Williston & Beane, was bailed out by the New York Stock Exchange. De Angelis was declared bankrupt again and ended up in chokey.
And where did the Sage of Omaha come in? He bought a 5% stake in Amex at the bottom of the market for $20 million, one of the first investments that made his fame and fortune. One man’s ill luck is another’s good fortune, I guess.
Filed under: Culture, History Tagged: Allied Crude Vegetable Oil Co, American Express, Anthony "Tino" de Angelis, Food for Peace Programme, Ira Haupt & Co, National School Lunch Act, Sage of Omaha, the salad oil crisis of 1963, Warren Buffett
