Edition

Edition (pronounced ih-dish-uhn)

(1) One of a series of printings of the same publication, each issued at a different time and differing from another by alterations, additions etc (historically sometimes referred to as impressions).

(2) The format in which a work is published (single volume edition, abridged edition, leather-bound edition, French language edition etc).

(3) In newspaper production, a form of differentiation between different versions of the “same” issue (late edition, city edition etc) and used in a similar manner in radio & television broadcasting.

(4) In book collecting, as “first edition”, a copy of a book from its first release or print run.

(5) The whole number of impressions or copies of a book, newspaper etc, printed from one set of type at one time.

(6) A version of anything (physical and not), often (sometimes misleadingly) in forms such as “limited edition”, “special edition” etc).

1545–1555: From the French édition, from the Middle French, from the Latin ēditiōn- (publication), the stem of ēditiō (a bringing forth, publishing), the construct being ēdit, the past participle of ēdere (to give out; bring forth, produce) + -iōn (the suffix appended to a perfect passive participle to form a noun of action or process, or the result of an action or process).  When the word entered English in the sense of “version, translation, a form of a literary work” (and later “act of publishing”) the dominant linguistic influence was probably the Latin editionem (a bringing forth, producing (although in specialized use it also carried the meaning “a statement, an account rendered”, from the past-participle stem of ēdere, the construct being e(x) (in the sense of “out”) + -dere, a combining form of dare (to give), from the primitive Indo-European root do- (to give).  Edition is a noun; the noun plural is editions.  The adjective editionism is non-standard and was coined to describe the practice in commerce in which different “editions” of essentially the same product are brought to market in an effort to induce customers to purchase multiple items even though the difference between them may be little more than the packaging.  It's a cynically profitable approach (the additional production & distribution costs marginal) which works especially well for those with a dedicated (hopefully obsessional) following.

More Issues Than Vogue sweatshirt from Impressions.

In publishing and (sometimes vaguely) related fields, the terms “issue”, “edition” and “version” have come to be used so loosely that they sometimes function interchangeably but within the publishing industry, there are conventions of use: Issue traditionally was used to refer to a specific release of a recurring publication (magazine, journal, newspaper etc) and tended to be tied to the release sequence (“October 2024 Issue”, “Fall 2024 Issue”, “Issue No. 215” etc).  Issue can however be used also as “re-issue” which refers usually to a “re-print” of a previous edition although it’s not uncommon for blurbs like “re-issued with new foreword” or “re-issued in large print” to appear, the implication being the substantive content remains the same.  Edition was used of a particular form or version of a publication that might differ from previous ones in significant ways which might include text corrections, foreign language translations, or updates, thus descriptions like “German Language Edition”, “Second Edition” or “Abridged Edition.  Some editions (especially those which appear in an irregular sequence) actually give in their title some hint of the nature of what distinguishes them from what came before such as the convention adopted by the American Psychiatric Association's (APA) Diagnostic for their Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM).  What the APA does is change the number if a DSM is regarded as a “new edition” but retain the number with an appended “R” (revised) or “TR” (text revision) if it’s an “updated edition”.  Thus has appeared the DSM-III-R (1987), the DSM-IV-TR (2000) and the DSM-5-TR (2022).  There’s some overlap in use for version and this perhaps reflects the influence of technology because it tends to be used of a specific form or variant of a publication such as language (eg Spanish version), format (eg audio version) or materials used in the construction (eg e-book version) rather than an implication of a chronological or iterative update (which in publishing tends to be called an “edition”.  In that the industry differs from IT where version numbers are almost always sequential although the convention widely used in the 1980s in which something like “version 2.4.3” could be interpreted as 2=major release, 4=update and 3=bug fix has long fallen into disuse.

Holy Bible, Revised Standard Version (RSV), 1952 limited edition, first printing by Thomas Nelson & Sons, brown full leather binding with inlaid gold lettering, silk end paper and green cardboard slip case, custom bound by the Chicago Bible Society.  US$750 from Abe Books.

There are also special uses which assume a life of their own, notably the Revised Standard Version (RSV), an English translation of the Bible published in 1952 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the US.  The RSV was a revision of the American Standard Version (ASV, 1901) and was published to render the text into the modern English which readily would be understood by a contemporary reader of modest education.  The object was not to change the meaning of the text but to preserve it and paradoxically this required editing the classic verses written by William Tyndale (circa 1494–1536) or in the King James Version (KJV, 1611) because the over hundreds of years the language had evolved and the much of what was in the original needed to be interpreted for a general audience and the controversy of clerical gatekeepers between God and his people had for centuries been a thing.  The RSV however has not been the last word and those who track novel initializms will have been delighted by the appearance of the New Revised Standard Version (NRSV, released in 1989 by the National Council of Churches (NCC) and the New Revised Standard Version Updated Edition (NRSVue), published in 2021.  Students of such things aren’t expecting the next update for at least a decade but finding a name might prove more of a challenge than editing the Old Testament’s Book of Leviticus for a modern audience although those who have worked in biblical forks have found alpha-numeric solutions such as RSV-2CE (Revised Standard Version, Second Catholic Edition (2006))

First Edition of James Joyce’s Ulysses, "Copy No 1", held in the National Library of Ireland.  It contains in Joyce's hand an inscription to the English political activist Harriet Shaw Weaver (1876–1961) who was for decades his patron.

A first edition of Ulysses (1922) by James Joyce (1882–1941) in 2009 sold on the opening day of an antiquarian book fair London for Stg£275,000, at the time a record for a twentieth century first edition.  Ulysses is regarded in the industry as the most collectable modern novel and the first editions, printed on hand-made Dutch fine-paper, are well-catalogued and this was number 45 of the first edition print run (all signed by the author) of 100, one of four not previously accounted for.  It had been sold originally by the Manhattan’s obviously subversive Sunwise Turn bookshop (Ulysses at the times banned in the US) and remained in the possession of the same family, stored in its original box and thus not exposed to light, accounting for the preservation of the construction.  Proving that dealers in literary circles can gush with the finest used car salesmen, the dealer who arranged the sale explained: “The color is amazing – this lovely Aegean Sea, Greek flag blue which would normally have darkened into a more dirty blue but because it has been in a box it is a complete thing of beauty.”  The almost pristine condition was a product also of its history of use, an inspection suggesting it was seemingly unread except for the well-thumbed final chapter where the most salacious passages can be found.  The existence of unread copies of well-known books is not unusual and those notorious for sitting neglected on the bookshelf include “challenging” texts such as A Theory of Justice (1971) by John Rawls (1921–2002), A Brief History of Time (1988) by Stephen Hawking (1942–2018) and Joyce’s own, bafflingly difficult Finnegans Wake (1939).  Intriguingly, the antiquarian book business also includes the category “pre-first edition” (any limited run copy of a book printed before the “first edition” is published).  The apparent oxymoron is explained by “first edition” being an industry definition rather than a literal description; pre-first editions thus analogous with “pre-production” or “final prototype” cars which (if they’ve survive the crusher which claims many) can be prized by collectors.

Among special editions there are, inter alia, “Collector's Editions”, “Anniversary Editions” and even, in one instance, the “So Fetch Edition”.

In commerce, “special editions” have become notable income generators for content providers and the movie business has embraced the concept with editions such as “the making of”, “bloopers & out-takes”, “director’s cut” and others and the idea isn’t new.  Led Zeppelin's eighth studio album (In Through the Out Door (1979)) originally was sold with an outer sleeve of plain brown paper, stamped with nothing more than the while the cardboard sleeve proper within was released with six different versions of the artwork.  Buyers would thus not know which sleeve they were selecting.  There’s nothing to suggest it was anything but a gimmick and neither the band nor the record company were expecting many to keep buying copies in the plain brown wrapped until they’d scored all six covers but there were press reports at the time of “Led Heads”, doing exactly that.  The industry took note.

Taylor Swift's The Anthology, one of 34 available editions of The Tortured Poets Department.

The attraction of releasing multiple versions of essentially the same product with variations restricted to some added content or detail differences in the packaging is that the additional costs in production and distribution are marginal yet there’s sometimes it’s possible to charge a premium for the “non-standard editions”.  The practice had for decades been quite a thing with car manufacturers but the music business came also to like the idea because, unlike with the cars where customers tended to buy one at a time, obsessive fans of musicians might be persuaded they needed several copies of what was essentially the same thing.  Leftist UK student site The Tab noted few music fans were as obsessive as Taylor Swift’s (b 1989) Swifties and, more significantly, they were also impressively numerous and thus an irresistible catchment of disposable income.  What The TAB noted was the almost simultaneous release of a remarkable (and apparently unprecedented) 34 versions of Ms Swift’s eleventh album, The Tortured Poets Department (2024), something which as well as generating revenue has the statistical benefit of afforcing her presence on the charts, every sale counting as a 1.0.  Some were technologically deterministic in than four were released as audio cassettes and nine were exclusively digital but most were essentially the same product except for the inclusion of a bonus track and some were available only through the retailer Target.  The most obsessive Swifties obviously could buy all 34 editions but for those which want just an exhaustive collection of the music, it appeared all was included on the accurately named The Anthology so there was that.  One day, all 34, still (where appropriate) unopened in their original packaging, will begin to appear on auction sites.  The approach attracted some adverse comment (which the Swifties doubtless ignored) and probably confirmed in the mind of J.D. Vance (b 1984; US vice president since 2025) that childless cat ladies are evil.

All editions: The Tab’s The Tortured Poets Department discography:

1. Collector’s Edition Deluxe with The Manuscript
2. Collector’s Edition Deluxe with The Albatross
3. Collector’s Edition Deluxe with The Bolter
4. Collector’s Edition Deluxe with The Black Dog
5. Standard album and The Manuscript
6. Standard and The Manuscript (signed)
7. Standard and But Daddy I Love Him (Acoustic)
8. Standard and Guilty As Sin? (Acoustic)
9. Standard and Down Bad (Acoustic)
10. Standard and Fortnight (Acoustic)
11. Standard and Fresh Out The Slammer (Acoustic)
12. Target exclusive with The Albatross
13. Target exclusive with The Bolter
14. Target exclusive with The Black Dog
15. Target exclusive vinyl
16. The Manuscript vinyl (pressing one)
17. The Manuscript vinyl (pressing two)
18. The Albatross vinyl
19. The Bolter vinyl
20. The Black Dog vinyl
21. The Manuscript vinyl
22. The Anthology
23. Standard and The Black Dog ‘voice memo’
24. Standard album and Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me voice memo
25. Standard album and Cassandra voice memo
26. Standard album (digital)
27. Standard album and Daddy I Love Him (Acoustic)
28. Standard album and loml (live from Paris)
29. Standard album and My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys (live from Paris)
30. Standard album and The Alchemy / Treacherous mashup (live from Paris)
31. The Manuscript cassette
32. The Bolter cassette
33. The Albatross cassette
34. The Black Dog cassette

1976 Lincoln Continental Mark IV, Lipstick edition.  The shade of red appears to be close to Dior's lipstick #744 (Party Red).

The car manufacturers have produced at least hundreds of “special editions” and while many of them really weren't “especially special”, they kept returning to the concept because it was lucrative, the things usually profitable to an extent exceeding greatly the nominal sum of their parts.  Quite how many have existed over the years is difficult to estimate because, in addition to the well-documented examples from manufacturers which were sold nationally or even globally, some were offered only briefly or regionally and barely advertised.  Additionally, dealers or sometimes an agglomeration of them would also conjure up their own "special editions" so the total of such things is probably in the thousands.  Sometimes, fashion houses were paid to lend their name, AMC teaming with Pierre Cardin, Levi Strauss (Volkswagen also had a denim-trimmed Beetle though without a specific brand attribution) & Oleg Cassini while the Lincoln Continental at times was offered with themes by Emilio Pucci, Cartier, Bill Blass and de Givenchy although the most memorable were the reputed 500 “Lipstick editions”, a study in red & white, quite a sight given the expanse of sheet metal and leather.

1969 Dodge Charger R/T SE (left), 1972 Chrysler VH Valiant Charger 770SE E55 (centre left), 1976 Holden HX LE (centre right) and 2002 Mazda Miata Special Edition (MX-5 in some markets) (right).

In most of the “special” editions, offered over the decades, it was only in the advertising or press kits that terms like “special edition” or “limited edition” appeared.  Sometimes though, such physical badges did appear on the vehicles. In the US, on the 1969 Dodge Chargers with the SE option, the badge included both “SE” & “Special Edition” while in Australia, only “SE” appeared on the 1972 Chrysler VH Valiant Charger 770SE E55 (one of the industry’s longer model names) although the marketing material called it a “Special Edition”, a usage borrowed from the parent corporation in the US and even the badge used was the same part as that which had been stuck on the 1970 Dodge Challenger SE.  Holden’s frankly cynical (but most profitable) 1976 LE spelled out “Limited Edition” under a “LE” (in a larger font) while Mazda used only the full term for the Miata (MX-5) Special Edition models.

Last Call: 2023 Dodge Challenger SRT Demon 170 (with two-piece “underwire”).

Dodge in 2023 embarked on a run of “special editions” on a grand scale, their “Last Call” programme a series of Dodge Challengers & Chargers packaged in a variety of ways but all distinguished by the inclusion of some flavor of Chrysler's third generation HEMI V8 (2003-), the significance of last call being the engine was being withdrawn from use in passenger-cars, a victim of government regulations intended to reduce vehicle emissions.  The programme yielded an array of Chargers & Challengers with specifications (ie horsepower and such) varying from “impressive” to “bonkers” and they were produced in batches of between 100 and 3,300.  The customers responded well with most editions soon “sold out” and, judging from the number with minimal mileage and still in “as delivered” condition which appeared rapidly on auction sites, many had been bought by those expected to “flip” them for profit.  Some did realise gains from the transactions but the market soon cooled, especially for the editions produced in the thousands but how many have been “stashed away” in the hope that years from now there will be those who will pay much, isn't known.

Last Call: 2023 Dodge Challenger SRT Hellcat Black Ghost Special Edition (with one-piece “underwire”).  As well as the impressive engineering, the Last Call programme yielded some unusually long model names.

That strategy may play out well for those speculating on a surge in value in the years to come when, for a certain class of customer, the specifications of a Last Call Dodge will seem intoxicating in a world in which such things have long been extinct.  That was for many the plan but the future has been clouded by Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021 and since 2025), his second administration releasing plans to “roll-back” vehicle emission standards and Chrysler, thus encouraged, announced in 2025 the HEMI V8 would re-appear in passenger vehicles, a decision which wouldn't have much troubled the board because the market has greeted the replacement straight-six engines with restrained enthusiasm.  Doubtless there will be those who noted Chrysler's announcement and, contemplating the thought of their carefully stored Challenger(s) becoming a depreciating asset, will have consulted lawyers to find if grounds for redress exist, the argument being they were “induced” to purchase on the promise of a “last call” being exactly that.  Unfortunately, there is a precedent and it's not encouraging.

Another “last call”: The “last American convertible” ceremony, Cadillac Clark Street Assembly Plant, Detroit, Michigan, 21 April 1976.

In the US, by the late 1960s, sale of convertibles had for years been declining and with the growing volume of government regulations about vehicle safety (which included “roll-over standards”, the industry was working on the assumption the body-style would soon be banned.  Given the declining demand for such things the manufacturers were sanguine about this and even pleased to have something to have to use to “trade off” against regulations they definitely did not want imposed.  By 1975 the Cadillac Eldorado was the only one of the few big US convertibles still available selling in reasonable numbers but the platform was in its final years and with no guarantee a version based on the new, smaller Eldorado (to debut in 1978) would enjoy similar success, General Motors (GM) decided it wasn’t worth the trouble but, sensing a “market opportunity”, promoted the 1976 model as the “Last American convertible”.  Sales spiked, some to buyers who purchased the things as investments, assuming in years to come they’d have a collectable and book a tidy profit on-selling to those who wanted a (no longer available) big drop-top.  Not only did GM use the phrase as a marketing hook; when the last of the 1976 run rolled off the Detroit production line on 21 April, the PR department, having recognized a photo opportunity, conducted a ceremony, complete with a “THE END OF AN ERA 1916-1976”) banner and a “LAST” Michigan license plate.  The final 200 Fleetwood Eldorado convertibles were “white on white on white”, identically finished in white with white soft-tops, white leather seat trim with red piping, white wheel covers, red carpeting & a red instrument panel; red and blue hood (bonnet) accent stripes marked the nation’s bicentennial year.

The “last American convertible” ceremony, Cadillac Clark Street Assembly Plant, Detroit, Michigan, 21 April 1976.

Of course in 1984 a convertible returned to the Cadillac catalogue so some of those who had stashed away their 1976 models under wraps in climate controlled garages weren’t best pleased and litigation ensued, a class action filed against GM alleging the use of the (now clearly incorrect) phrase “Last American Convertible” had been “deceptive or misleading” in that it induced the plaintiffs to enter a contract which they’d not otherwise have undertaken.  The suit was dismissed on the basis of there being insufficient legal grounds to support the claim, the court ruling the phrase was a “non-actionable opinion” rather than a “factual claim”, supporting GM's contention it had been a creative expression rather than a strict statement of fact and thus did not fulfil the criteria for a “deceptive advertising” violation.  Additionally, the court found there was no actual harm caused to the class of plaintiffs as they failed to show they had suffered economic loss or that the advertisement had led them to make a purchase they would not otherwise have made.  That aspect of the judgment has since been criticized with dark hints it was one of those “what’s good for General Motors is good for the country” moments but the documentary evidence did suggest GM at the time genuinely believed the statement to be true and no action was possible against the government on several grounds, including the doctrines of remoteness and unforeseeability.  If HEMI V8 powered coupés and sedans soon re-appear in Dodge's showrooms, it may not be only Greta Thunberg (b 2003) who will be upset.

Limited Edition, less limited profit: The Holden LE

1976 HX Holden LE

By the mid 1970s, the market had come to prefer the cheaper, smaller and easier to use cassette tapes which meant warehouses were soon full of the once desirable 8-track players and buyers were scarce.  In Australia, GMH (General Motor Holden) by 1975 had nearly a thousand in the inventory which also bulged with 600-odd Monaro body-shells, neither of which were attracting customers; fashions change and both had become unfashionable.  Fortunately, GMH was well-acquainted with the concept of the "parts-bin special edition" whereby old, unsaleable items are bundled together and sold at what appears a discount, based for advertising purposes on a book-value retail price there’s no longer any chance of realizing.  Thus created was the high-priced, limited edition LE (which stood for "Limited Edition", the Monaro name appearing nowhere although all seem still to use the name), in metallic crimson with gold pin striping, golf "honeycomb" aluminium wheels, fake (plastic) burl walnut trim and crushed velour (polyester) upholstery; in the 1970s, this was tasteful.  Not designed for the purpose, the eight-track cartridge player crudely was bolted to the console but five-hundred and eighty LEs were made, GMH pleasantly surprised at how quickly they sold with no need to resort to discounting.  When new, they listed at Aus$11,500, a pleasingly profitable premium of some 35% above the unwanted vehicle on which it was based; these days, examples are advertised for sale for (Aus$) six-figure sums and anyone who now buys a LE does so for reasons other than specific-performance.  Although of compact size (in US terms) and fitted with a 308 cubic inch (5.0 litre) V8, it could achieve barely 110 mph (175 km/h), acceleration was lethargic by earlier and (much) later standards yet fuel consumption was high; slow and thirsty the price to be paid for the early implementations of the emission control plumbing bolted to engines designed during more toxic times.      

1971 Holden HQ Monaro LS 350

The overwrought and bling-laden Holden HX typified the tendency during the 1970s and of US manufacturers and their colonial off-shoots to take a fundamentally elegant design and, with a heavy-handed re-style, distort it into something ugly.  A preview of the later “malaise era” (so named in the US for many reasons), it was rare for a facelift to improve the original.  The 1971 HQ Holden was admired for an austerity of line and fine detailing; what followed over three subsequent generations lacked that restraint.  The HX LE was one of a number of "special" and "limited" editions offered during the era and it remains one of the few remembered.

Giallo

Giallo (pronounced jah-loh (often pronounced in English-speaking use as gee-ah-lo)

(1) The industry (and later the public) term for a series of Italian mystery, crime and suspense novels, first published by Mondadori in 1929 and so-dubbed because of the giallo (yellow) hue used for the covers.  They were known as Mistero giallo (yellow mystery) and collectively as the racconti gialli “yellow tales”.  The term “giallo” is a clipping of Il Giallo Mondadori (Mondadori Yellow).

(2) By extension, an unsolved mystery or scandal (historic Italian use).

(3) By later extension, a genre of Italian cinema mixing mystery and thriller with psychological elements and, increasingly, violence.

(4) A film in this genre.

1930s (in English use): From the Italian giallo (yellow (although now used also of amber traffic signals)), from the Old French jalne (a variant of jaune), from the Latin galbinus (greenish-yellow, yellowish, chartreuse; effeminate (of men)) of unknown origin but possibly from galbanum, from the Ancient Greek χαλβάνη (khalbánē) (galbanum) (the resinous juice produced by plants of the genus Ferula), from the Hebrew חֶלְבְּנָה (ḥelbənāh), from the root ח־ל־ב (ḥ-l-b) (related to milk), from the Proto-Semitic ḥalīb- (milk; fat).  Over time, the term evolved in Italian language, undergoing phonetic and semantic shifts to become giallo.  As an adjective the form is giallo (feminine gialla, masculine plural gialli, feminine plural gialle, diminutive giallìno or giallétto) and as a noun it refers also to a (1) “a sweet yellow flour roll with raisins” in the Veneto) and (2) “Naples yellow”; the augmentative is giallóne, the pejorative giallàccio and the derogatory giallùccio.  The derived adjectives are nuanced: giallastro (yellowish but used also (of the appearance of someone sickly) to mean sallow); giallognolo (of a yellowish hue) & giallorosa (romantic (of movies)).  The yellow-covered books of the 1930s produced giallista (crime writer which is masculine or feminine by sense (giallisti the masculine plural, gialliste the feminine plural).  The verb ingiallire means “to turn yellow).  Giallo is a noun; the noun plural is giallos or gialli (the latter listed as rare).

In print: A Mondadori Edition.

Arnoldo Mondadori Editore (the Mondadori publishing house, founded in 1907 and still extant) first published their mystery, crime and suspense novels in editions with distinctive yellow covers in 1929.  Few were of local origin and almost all were translations into Italian of works written originally in English by US and British authors and not all were all of recent origin, some having appeared in English decades earlier.  Produced in a cheap paperback format, the giallos were instantly successful (triggering a secondary industry of swap & exchange between readers) and other publishing houses emulated the idea, down even to the yellow covers.  Thus “giallo” entered the language as a synonym for “crime or mystery novel” and it spread to become slang meaning “unsolved mystery or scandal”.  The use as a literary genre has endured and it now casts a wide net, giallos encompassing mystery, crime (especially murders, gruesome and otherwise), thrillers with psychological elements and, increasingly, violence.

In film: The modern understanding of the giallo movie is something like "horror with a psychological theme" and, depending things like the director's intent or the  target market, one or other element may dominate.  Historically, among critics there was a "hierarchy of respectability" in the genre which the psychological thriller tending to be preferred but in recent decades the have been landmark "horror movies" which have made the genre not exactly fashionable but certainly more accepted. 

The paperbacks were often best-sellers and film adaptations quickly followed, the new techniques of cinema (with sound) ideally suited to the thriller genre and these films too came to be called “giallos”, a use which in the English-speaking world tends to be applied to thriller-horror films, especially if there’s some bizarre psychological twist.  The film purists (an obsessive lot) will point out (1) the authentic Italian productions are properly known as giallo all'italiana and (2) a giallo is not of necessity any crime or mystery film and there’s much overlap with other sub-genres (the ones built about action, car-chases and big explosions usually not giallos although a giallo can include these elements.

Lindsay Lohan in I Know Who Killed Me (2007).  Neglected upon its release, IKWKM has since been re-evaluated as a modern giallo and has acquired a cult following, sometimes seen on the playbill of late-night screenings.

IKWKM may at times have been seriously weird but as a piece of film it was mild compared to the most notorious giallo: Salò o le 120 giornate di Sodoma (Salò, or the 120 Days of Sodom) an Italian production directed by Pier Paolo Pasolini (1922–1975) whose talents (and tastes) straddled many fields.  Often referred to as “Pasolini’s Salò”, it’s a film people relate to in the way they choose or the work imposes on them; at one level, it can be enjoyed as a “horror movie” and its depiction of violent sexual depravity is such that of the many strands of pornography which exist, Salò contains elements of most.  As a piece of art it’s polarizing with the “love it” faction praising it as a Pasolini’s piercing critique of consumerism and populist right-wing politics while the “hate it” group condemn it as two hours-odd of depictions of depravity so removed from any socio-political meaning as to be merely repetitiously gratuitous.

Salò poster.

The title Salò is a reference to the film being set in 1944 in Republic di Salò (Republic of Salò (1943-1945)), the commonly used name for the Repubblica Sociale Italiana (Italian Social Republic), a fascist enclave set-up in Nazi-occupied northern Italy under the nominal dictatorship of Benito Mussolini (1883-1945; Duce (leader) & Prime-Minister of Italy 1922-1943) who Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) had ordered rescued from imprisonment after being deposed as Fascist prime-minister.  As a piece of legal fiction befitting its self-imposed role as Italy’s “government in exile”, Mussolini’s hurriedly concocted state declared Rome its capital but the administration never ventured beyond the region where security was provided by the Wehrmacht (the German military forces, 1935-1945) and the de facto capital was Salò (small town on Lake Garda, near Brescia).

Salò poster.

Although not in the usual filmic sense an adaptation, Pasolini’s inspiration was Les 120 Journées de Sodome ou l'école du libertinage (The 120 Days of Sodom, or the School of Libertinage), an unfinished novel by the libertine French aristocrat Donatien Alphonse François, Marquis de Sade (1740–1814) although the director changed the time and location of the setting (shifting the critique from monarchical France to Fascist Italy) and structurally, arranged the work into four segments with intertitles (static text displays spliced between scenes to give the audience contextual information), following the model of Dante’s (Dante Alighieri (circa 1265–1321)) Divina Commedia (Divine Comedy (circa 1310-1321)).  In little more than a month in 1785, the marquis wrote the text during his imprisonment in the Bastille and while the introduction and first part are in a form recognizably close to what they may be been prior to editing, the remaining three parts exist only as fragmentary notes.  After the revolutionary mob in 1789 stormed the Bastille (and was disappointed to find the Ancien Régime had so few prisoners) it was thought the manuscript had been lost or destroyed but, without the author’s knowledge, it was secreted away, eventually (in severely redacted form) to be published in 1904.

Salò poster.

The work describes the antics of four rich French libertine men who spend 120 days in a remote castle where, attended by servants, they inflict on 20 victims (mostly adolescents and young women) 600 of their “passions”, enacted in an orgy of violence and sexual acts as depraved as the author could imagine; it’s not clear how much of what he documented came from his imagination or recollections (the documentary evidence of what he did as opposed to what he thought or wrote is vanishing sparse) .  Like Pasolini’s film, as a piece of literature it divides opinion on the same “love it” or “hate it” basis and when in the post-war years it began to appear in unexpurgated form (over the decades many jurisdictions would gradually would overturn their ban on its sale) it attained great notoriety, both as “forbidden fruit” and for its capacity genuinely to shock and appal.  The stated purpose of the 1904 publication by a German psychiatrist and sexologist was it was had a utility as a kind of “source document” for the profession, helping them to understand what might be in the minds of their more troubled (or troublesome) patients.  It’s value to clinicians was it constituted a roll-call of the worst of man’s unbridled sexual fantasies and impulses to inflict cruelty, allowing a “filling-in of the gaps” between what a patient admitted and what a psychiatrist suspected, a process something like Rebecca West’s (1892–1983) vivid impression of Rudolf Hess (1894–1987; Nazi Deputy Führer 1933-1941) after observing him in the dock during the first Nuremberg Trial (1945-1946): “He looked as if his mind had no surface, as if every part of it had been blasted away except the depth where the nightmares live.”

Salò poster.

So for the profession it was a helpful document because uniquely (as far as is known), it documented the thoughts and desires which most repress or at least leave unstated although the awful implication of that was that wider publication may not be a good idea because it might “give men ideas and unleash the beast within”.  Certainly, it was one of literature’s purest expressions of a desire for a freedom to act unrestricted by notions such as morality or decency and while those possibilities would seduce some, most likely would agree with the very clever and deliciously wicked English philosopher Thomas Hobbes (1588-1679) who in Leviathan (1651) described life in such a world being “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.”  De Sade was reportedly most upset at the loss of the manuscript he’d hidden within the Bastille but resumed writing and political activism under the First Republic (1789–1799) and in Napoleonic France (1799–1815) but his pornographic novels attracted the attention of the authorities which again imprisoned him but, after sexually assaulting youthful inmates he was diagnosed with libertine dementia and confined to lunatic asylums where, until his death in 1814, he continued to write and even stage dramatic productions, some of which were attended by respectable parts of Parisian society.

Salò poster.

Passolini followed De Sade in having his four central characters represent the centres of authority (the Church, the law, finance and the state) in Italy (and, by extension, Western capitalist states generally) and Salò genuinely can be interpreted as a critique of modern consumerism, the exploitative nature of capitalism and right-wing populism.  In setting it in the rather squalid vassal state Hitler set up to try to maintain the illusion of an ally being retained, Passolini made fascism a particular focus of his attack but the allegorical nature of the film, politely noted by most critics and historians has always been secondary to the violence and depravity depicted.  For some amateur psychologists, Salò was there to reinforce their worst instincts about Pasolini, their suspicion being it was an enactment of his personal fantasies and imaginings, a record in cellulose acetate of what he’d have done had he “been able to get away with it”.  Whether or not that’s though fair will depend on one’s background and the extent to which one is prepared to separate art from artist; as an artist, Pasolini to this day had many admirers and defenders.

Salò poster.

Three weeks before Salò’s predictably controversial premiere, at the age of 53, Pasolini was murdered, his brutally beaten body found on a beach; a 17 year old rent-boy (one of many who had passed through Passolini’s life) confessed to being the killer but decades later would retract that statement.  The truth behind the murder still isn’t known and there are several theories, some sordid and some revolving around the right-wing terrorism which in Italy claimed many lives during the 1970s.  What the director’s death did mean was he never had a chance to make a film more explicit than Salò and in may be that in the Giallo genre such a thing would not have been possible because the only thing more shocking would have been actual “snuff” scenes in which people really did die, such productions legends of the darkest corners of the Dark Web although there seems no evidence any have ever been seen.  What Pasolini would have done had he lived can’t be known but he may not have returned to Giallo because, in the vein, after Salò, there was really nowhere to go.

Yellow as a color

1971 Lamborghini Miura P400 SV in Giallo Fly and 1971 Lamborghini LP500 Countach prototype (with periscopio) in Giallo Fly.

Despite the impression which lingered into the 1980s, giallo (yellow) was never the “official” color of Lamborghini, but variations of the shade have become much associated with the brand and in the public imagination, the factory’s color Giallo Orion probably is something of a signature shade.  When Lamborghini first started making cars in the early 1960s (it was a manufacturer of tractors!) no official color was designated but the decision was taken to use bold, striking colors (yellow, orange, and a strikingly lurid green) to differentiate them from Ferraris which then were almost twice as likely than today to be some shade of red.  It was Giallo Fly which was chosen when the LP500 Countach prototype was shown at the now defunct Geneva Motor Show, a machine in 1974 destroyed in a crash test at England’s MIRA (Motor Industry Research Association) facility but in 2021 an almost exact replica was created by Polo Storico (the factory’s historical centre), the paint exactly re-created.

Lamborghini factory yellows, 2024.

Over the years, the factory’s palette would change but the emphasis on bright “energetic” hues remained.  Customers are no longer limited to what’s in the brochure and, for a fee, one’s Lamborghini can be finished in any preferred shade, a service offered also by many manufacturers although Ferrari apparently refuse to “do pink”.  An industry legend is that according to Enzo Ferrari’s (1898-1988) mistress (Fiamma Breschi (1934-2015)), when the original Ferrari 275 GTB (1964-1968) appeared in a bright yellow, it was to be called Fiamma Giallo (Flame Yellow) but Commendatore Ferrari himself renamed it to Giallo Fly (used in the sense of “flying”) which he thought would be easier to market and he wasted to keep a word starting with “F”.  Both Ferrari and Lamborghini at times have had Giallo Fly in their color charts.

1967 Ferrari 275 GTB/4 NART Spider (Chassis #09437) in Giallo Solare (left), Lady Gaga (the stage-name of Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanotta (b 1986)) in Rodarte dress at the Elton John AIDS Foundation Academy Awards Viewing Party, Los Angeles, March 2022 (centre) and 2010 Ferrari 599 SA Aperta (chassis #181257) in Giallo Lady Gaga (right).

Factory paint tag: Giallo Lady Gaga.

Ferrari over the decades have offered many shades of yellow including Ardilla Amarillo, Ardilla Amarillo Opaco, Giallo Dino, Giallo Fly, Giallo Kuramochi, Giallo Lady Gaga, Giallo Libano, Giallo Modena, Giallo Montecarlo, Giallo Montecarlo Opaco, Giallo My Swallow, Giallo Nancy, Giallo Senape, Giallo Solare, Giallo Triplo Strato & Yellow Olive Magno Opaco and one suspects the job of mixing the shades might be easier than coming up with an appropriately evocative name.  One color upon which the factory seems never to have commented is Giallo Lady Gaga which seems to have been a genuine one-off, applied to a 599 SA Aperta, one of 80 built in 2010.  The car is seen usually in Gstaad, Switzerland and the consensus is it was a special order from someone although quite how Lady Gaga inspired the shade isn’t known.  As a color, it looks very close to Giallo Solare, the shade the factory applied to the 275 GTB/4 NART Spider used in the Hollywood film The Thomas Crown Affair (1968) which was re-painted in burgundy because the darker shade worked better for the cinematographer.  The car had come second in class in the 1967 Sebring 12 Hours (with two female drivers) and was one of only two of the ten NART Spiders will aluminium coachwork.

Coat of arms of the municipality of Modena in the in the Emilia-Romagna region of northern Italy (left), cloisonné shield on 1971 Ferrari 365 GTB/4 Daytona Berlinetta in Giallo Dino (centre) (the band of silver paint across the nose appears on the early-build Daytonas fitted with the revised frontal styling (the acrylic headlight glass covers used between 1968-1970 were banned by US regulations) and stick-on badge on 1975 Dino 308 GT4 in Rosso Corsa (right).  Not all approve of the stickers (unless applied by the factory) and although they seem to be dying off, there are pedants who insist they should never appear on Dinos made between 1967-1975 (which were never badged as Ferraris).

Just as yellow was so associated with Lamborghini, red is synonymous with Ferraris and in 2024, some 40% are built in some shade of red, a rate about half of what was prevalent during the 1960s.  The most famous of Ferrari’s many reds remains Rosso Corsa (racing red) and that’s a legacy from the early days of motor sport when countries were allocated colors (thus “Italian Racing Red”, “British Racing Green” etc) and yellow was designated for Belgium and Brazil.  On the road and the circuits, there have been many yellow Ferraris, the first believed to been one run in 1951 by Chico Landi (1907-1989) a Brazilian privateer who won a number of events in his home country and the Belgium teams Ecurie Nationale Belge and Ecurie Francorchamps both used yellow Ferraris on a number of occasions.  If anything, yellow is at least “an” official Ferrari color because it has for decades been the usual background on the Ferrari shield and that was chosen because it is an official color of Modena, the closest city to the Ferrari factory, hence the existence of Giallo Modena.

Patent

Patent (pronounced pat-nt or peyt-nt)

(1) The exclusive right, granted by a government to an inventor (or owner of the invention) to manufacture, use or sell an invention for a certain length of time.

(2) An invention or process protected by an exclusive right to manufacture, use, or sell it.

(3) An official document conferring on the inventor the exclusive right to manufacture, use, or sell an invention; letters patent.

(4) Protected by an exclusive right given to an inventor to manufacture, use, or sell an invention; patented; the holding of an exclusive right to manufacture, use, or sell an invention.

(5) Relating to, concerned with, or dealing with the granting of exclusive rights to sell or manufacture something, especially inventions (ie the matter of “patent law” dealt with by a “patent attorney”.

(6) Of or pertaining to a right, privilege etc conferred by a patent.

(7) To take out a patent on; obtain the exclusive rights to (an invention, process, etc) by securing a patent.

(8) In US law, the instrument with which by which the federal government conveys a legal title in fee-simple (freehold) to public land.

(9) An ellipsis of patent leather (a varnished, high-gloss leather used in fashion for shoes, handbags, coats and such).

(10) As patent leather, a hide treated in a way which results in a very shiny surface.

(11) Of plate glass, ground and polished on both sides,

(12) In pharmaceuticals, (of a medication) sold without a prescription and usually protected by an exclusive legal right to manufacture (described often as “patent remedies” or “patent drugs”).

(13) In medicine, (of a duct or passage in the body) open or unobstructed.

(14) In medicine (including veterinary medicine) of an infection, in the phase when the organism causing it can be detected by clinical tests.

(15) In phonetics, open, in various degrees, to the passage of the breath stream.

(16) In metallurgy to heat a metal above a transformation temperature and then quench (cool) it in preparation for cold-drawing, wire pulling etc.

(17) In gambling, the combination of seven bets on three selections, offering a return even if only one bet comes in.

(18) In baking (of flour), fine, and consisting mostly of the inner part of the endosperm of the grain from which it is milled.

(19) In botany (and sometimes in horticulture and agriculture generally), expanded or spreading.

(20) Lying open; not enclosed or shut in (often as “a patent field” and applied also to open doorways, passages and such.

(21) Readily open to notice or observation; evident unconcealed, conspicuous, palpable, clear (usually in the phrase “patently obvious”).

(22) To originate and establish as one's own.

(23) A characteristic or quality that one possesses; in particular (hyperbolic) as if exclusively; a monopoly (often in the form “got a patent on”).

(24) An official document granting a right (the significance of the "patent" element in "letters patent" being it indicated the document was openly published an accessible to all (ie in the sense of the Latin patēns).

(25) Any right granted by such a document.

1250–1300: As an adjective, patent was from the Middle English patent, from the Latin patent-, stem of patēns (open, standing open), present participle of patēre (to stand open, lie open).  The Middle English noun patent (document granting an office, property, right, title, etc.; document granting permission, licence; papal indulgence, pardon) was either a clipping of “letters patent”, a translation of the Medieval Latin littera patēns or litterae patentēs (open letters) or was directly from the Anglo-Norman and Middle French patente (which endures in modern French as patent) or a clipping of the Anglo-Norman lettres patentes, Middle French lettres patentes, lettre patente and Old French patentes lettres (document granting an office, privilege, right, etc or making a decree).  The adjective patent (granting a right, privilege, or power) emerged late in the fourteenth century while the sense of “open to view, plain, clear” was in use by at least 1505 and use as an adverb dates from the mid fifteenth century.

The verb dates from the 1670s and was derived from the Middle English nouns patent & patente (wide open; clear, unobstructed; unlimited; of a document: available for public inspection), from the Anglo-Norman & Middle French patent and directly from their etymon the Latin patēns (open; accessible, passable; evident, manifest; exposed, vulnerable), the present active participle of pateō (to be open; to be accessible, attainable; to be exposed, vulnerable; of frontiers or land: to extent, increase), from the primitive Indo-European pete or peth- (to spread out; to fly).  The verb originally was used in the sense of “to obtain right to land" by securing letters patent” while the meaning “obtain a copyright to an invention” was in use by at least 1822, building on the earlier meaning (recorded in 1789) “obtain an exclusive right or monopoly” a privilege granted by the Crown by the issue of letters patent.  Patents issued thus (for a licence granted by a government covering a new and useful invention, conferring exclusive right to exploit the invention for a specified term of years) came into use in the 1580s.  Patent is a noun, verb & adjective, patenter, patentor, patentee, patentholder, patency, patentability, impatency, patency & prepatent are nouns, patented is a verb & adjective, patenting is a verb, patentable, antipatent, patentlike, patentfree, patentless & impatent are adjectives and patentably & patently are adverbs; the noun plural is patents.  The derived forms (nonpatentable, unpatentability, repatent etc) are used as required.

Alice Geek Teck^TM strapless bra.  The product was released with Geek Teck^TM still in its "Pat. pend" phase.

The Alice Geek Teck^TM strapless bra was released in 2015, its novelty being the use of “Patent-Pending Geek Teck^TM” panels which exploited the Van Der Waals forces (intermolecular electrostatic attractive forces) created by their silicone construction with microscopic hair-like structures known as setae (analogous to those found on the feet of geckos, famous for their ability to attach themselves (upside-down) to ceilings, using, if need be, only one foot.  The theory was the Geek Teck^TM panels would “stick to” the wearer’s skin thereby enhancing the most important design imperative of the strapless bra: staying up.  US patent 9,402,424 was assigned to Kellie K apparel LLC but it seems not to have succeeded which is unfortunate because there’s a gap in the market for a genuinely gravity-defying strapless bra.

The familiar term “patent pending” (often seen stamped on products in the abbreviated form “Pat. pend.”) is used to indicate a patent application has been filed but has not yet been granted.  The significance of the use is: (1) it can act to deters competitors, signalling to potential “copycats” that patent protection is expected to be granted, thus discouraging attempts at imitation, (2) it’s thought to lend credibility to a product, thus conferring a marketing advantage, (3) it can make a product more attractive to potential investors because a patent grants years of protection from competition and (4) the existence of the label can in subsequent infringement proceedings lead to a higher award of damages because it can be used as evidence the other party did not act “in good faith”.  However, the mere existence of a “Pat. Pend.” label does not provide legal protection and others may still (at their own risk) copy and sell the product, something of significance because patent applications can take months (or even years in complex or contested matters) to process and there have been cases where a company violating a subsequently granted patent has “come and gone” (taking with them their profits) by the time a patent is granted.  Importantly, a manufacturer cannot mark something as “Pat. Pend.” just to try to ward of potential competition and in most jurisdictions it’s unlawful to use the term if no application has been filed.  In legal slang, “patentees” and “patentspeak” are terms referring to the legal and technical jargon used in the handling of patents while “patentometrics” is the statistical analysis of patents.

In law, “patent troll” is an informal term used (usually disparagingly) to describe an individual or company which acquires and enforces patents in an aggressive and opportunistic manner, often with no intention of producing, marketing, or promoting the subjects of the patents.  The term is based on the similar concepts “trademark troll” and “copyright troll” and in more formal use a “patent troll” is usually styled a “patent assertion entity” or a “non-practicing entity”.  The seemingly curious business model (making money by neither producing or selling stuff to which one holds the exclusive patent) works usually through litigation or (more typically) the threat of litigation, exploiting the cost–benefit imbalance between contesting versus settling a lawsuit.  Sometimes speculatively but usually because potential targets have been identified, patent trolls will (1) buy older or unused patents from bankrupt companies, small inventors or concerns which have no further use for them or (2) file new patents that are broad or vague, something especially prevalent in highly technical fields where change is rapid (anything IT related the classic example) and specialists can amass hundreds or even thousands of patents, some unambiguously enforceable, some with enough of a hint of validity to be a creditable threat.  Thus equipped, patent trolls search for possible targets for litigation, the ideal victims being (1) companies so big they might settle a claim for what is (for them) a small sum (though most lucrative for the trolls who may have done little more than send a C&D (cease & desist letter)) or (2) smaller companies which cannot afford the cost of litigation (they might settle for less but it’s still a profit to the troll) because even if a case successfully is defended, the cost of doing so can, in the US, run to millions.

What that means is the troll’s business model has three potential revenue streams: (1) licensing fees, (2) one-off settlements and (3) court-awarded damages (in the rare instances in which a case goes to trial).  With no costs associated with R&D (research & development), product testing, production or marketing, a troll’s overheads are comparatively minimal and limited usually to legal and administrative fees.  Highly developed practitioners of trolling also use elaborate company structures made up of trusts, shelf companies and such, often in trans-national form, the jurisdictions chosen on the basis of which is most advantageous for a certain purpose (secrecy, taxation arrangements, limitations of liability etc); all these layers can protect a troll’s assets from counter-claims.  Patents are also “just another asset” and once assembled become a portfolio which can be leveraged as investment vehicles, something done often by the device of bundling them in securitized form, sometimes S&Ded (sliced & diced) for sale to investors, not as individual patents but as a percentage of the whole.

Some products become known as “patent something” because they gained their original uniqueness by virtue of patent protection.  In nautical use, a “patent log” is a mechanical device dragged from the stern of the vessel and used to indicate the craft’s speed through the water; most consist of a rotator (ie on the principle of a propeller) and reading unit, connected by a stiff line (usually covered with a flexible, protective skin).  Even in the age of electronic sensors, patent logs remain in use because they are simple, reliable, low maintenance units which require no external power source, the rotator spinning as it proceeds astern, the rotations of the connecting line registered by a wheel works and dial mounted to the vessel's rail.  The earliest versions of mechanical logs had the counting attached directly to the rotator, meaning the apparatus had to be hauled aboard to “take a reading” so the US innovation in the 1860s of a connecting line (spinning a la the mechanical speedometers which later would appear in automobiles) was an advance which made the thing a “real time” device.

An 1881 Patent Log by Thomas Walker, on display at the Smithsonian Natural History Museum.

For many reasons, to know a vessel’s true speed was an important part of seamanship and “log” element in the name came from the old way sailors determined speed.  Since the sixteenth century, the technique had been to attach knotted rope to a wooden log which was heaved overboard and, the knots being tied at regular intervals, the number of knots counted off over a short period indicating the speed.  From this came the standard unit of speed at sea being the “knot” (one knot being equal to one nautical mile per hour and few things annoy old salts more than the expression “knots per hour”).  The log method obviously was inexact because of the variables to which it was subject so the mechanical device was a great advance.  A company founded by Thomas Walker (1805-1873) as a nautical instrument maker based in Birmingham (in England about as far as one can get from the sea) received a patent for a mechanical log in 1878, sometime before one was granted by the US patent office although that application was submitted in 1877.

Lindsay Lohan during blonde phase in Lanvin patent leather coat, New York City, May 2007.

“Patent leather” describes a hide which has been coated with a process using a substance which produces a high-gloss finish, so shiny as to be described as “like a polished, glazed ceramic”.  In fashion, the attraction of patent leather is that despite the brittle appearance, it retains all the flexible qualities and durability of leather while being almost waterproof (although intrusion can of course be possible at the seams).  Most associated with shoes, boots, handbags and coats, the original patent leather seems exclusively to have been produced in black but a wide range of colors have long been available so the material quickly became a favourite of designers.  In the late 1700s when patent leather first became commercially available in England, the lacquer coating was linseed oil-based but what revolutionized things and made mass-production more viable was the invention by metallurgist Alexander Parkes (1813–1890) of Parkesine, the first man-made “plastic”; it was one of his dozens of patented inventions, thus the name “patent leather”.  It was Parkesine which enabled the development of multi-colored patent leathers and because the product literally is “leather with a synthetic coating”, it’s one of the natural products most easily emulated (in appearance) by a plastic alternative although the imitations never possessed the same qualities.  Interestingly, many of the various processes used early in the nineteenth century to patent leather were never patented.

The former Court of Star Chamber (1836), drawing by unknown artist.

There were also “patent theatres”.  In England letters patent were for years a standard device in the administration of censorship, something that attracted increased interest from governments as soon as the printing presses began to operate at scale.  The printing press was one of the great creations of civilization but their availability appalled priest and politician alike because the last thing they wanted was “the common people” being given ideas (which they knew quickly would become heresy and sedition).  Under Henry VIII (1491–1547; King of England (and Ireland after 1541) 1509-1547) proclamations against heretical and seditious publications soon appeared and in 1538 a statute was added declaring books must be licensed for printing by the Privy Council or other royal nominees.  What this did was create a flourishing black market for works produced by illegal presses and this battle between censorship and “underground” publications would for some 450 years characterize the way things were done in England.  One critical development came in 1557 when the Stationers' Company was granted a “charter of incorporation” which provided that only members of the company (or others holding a special patent) were allowed to print any work for sale in the kingdom.  In 1586, the ever imaginative Court of Star Chamber devised an ordinance which directed that no printing press might be set up in any place other than London (with the exception of one each for the university towns Oxford and Cambridge) and rigorously, the Star Chamber enforced this law with their usual zeal and although the court was in 1641 abolished by the Long Parliament, governments didn’t lose their fondness for censorship; under the Commonwealth restrictions were tightened with all “unofficial periodicals” (a move aimed at troublesome “newsletters, precursors to modern magazines and newspapers) banned and while the Rump Parliament of 1659 permitted “licensed newsbooks”, severely their issue was restricted.

During the Restoration period neither the government’s strategy or tactics much changed and material deemed libellous or offensive (values which cast a wide net) to the state or Church could see offenders fined, imprisoned pilloried or hanged (the last invoked if the offence was judged “high treason”).  By the eighteenth century things had somewhat been relaxed but Thomas Paine (1737-1809) was nevertheless compelled to flee to France when his book Rights of Man (1791) was declared “subversive” and a warrant issued for his arrest; even an article condemning the use of disciplinary flogging by the military could attract a fine of Stg£1,000 (then a small fortune) and two years in prison.  Being popular entertainment and accessible to even the illiterate, censorship of the theatre was important and the licensing of individual plays seems to have begun as early as the 1640s with an inspired piece of legislation in 1572 deeming all players (actors) “rogues and vagabonds” unless they belonged to (1) a baron of the realm, (2) somebody of higher rank or (3) were licensed by two justices.

Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, London, one of the original two "patent theatres".

Later, London’s theatrical companies worked under royal patents created by issue of the appropriate letters patent.  Curiously, governments, while much concerned with the preservation of political & ecclesiastical power, had rather neglected public morality but the Puritans were appalled by even the idea of the theatre.  Oliver Cromwell (1599–1658; Lord Protector of the Commonwealth 1653-1658) and his ilk thought the stage a place of immorality and in 1542 the Long Parliament prohibited all dramatic performances.  Inevitably, with theatres closed, an underground movement arose, the best documented of which were the Droll-Humours.  At or after the Restoration, letters patent were issued so companies could be formed and in 1662 these conferred on the recipients the exclusive right to present, in public, plays in public within the City of Westminster.  It proved a lucrative business and after the deaths of the original holders of the rights, lawyers began their squabble over to whom or what entity the letters patent should be conveyed; the disputes dragged on for some time before ultimately they were settled on the Covent Garden and Drury Lane theatres.  These enduring institutions thus came to be called the “patent theatres” and what the letters called “drama” was confined to the patent theatres.  However, nobody had bothered to define exactly what constituted “legitimate drama” and that remained a source of dispute among critics and lawyers, resolved only when the Theatres Act (1843) rendered the original letters patent inoperative.

Drawing of patent hammer, attached to Mr Richard’s application to the US Patent Office. the image is from the Trowel and Masonry Tool Collector Resource.

In stone-masonry, a “patent hammer” is a specialized hammer used by stonemasons for dressing stone, the head having two faces formed by a number (at least 2 but usually with 4, 6, 8, 10 or 12 “cuts” (blades) broad, thin chisels bolted side by side); the bolts could be loosened, allowing the blades to be removed to be re-sharpening or replaced.  The head of a patent hammer was heavy and the tool was used for finishing granite or the harder grades of sandstone and the choice of which to use was dictated by nature of the stone and the finish desired.  Historically, the most commonly used jaw opening was ⅞ inch but other graduations between ½ and one inch were widely produced and in the jargon of the trade, the number of cuts per nominal inch became the nominal description (eg an “8-cut finish”).  Essentially a time-saving device, use of a patent hammer allowed a stonemason to render a grooved surface more quickly and with more consistency than when using a single hand chisel.  The tools were in various places known also as the “patent bush hammer” “Scotia hammer” and “patent Scotia hammer” although, as a general principle, the Scotias usually were lighter and featured smaller jaw openings.  The tool gained its name from the patent granted in 1828 to Joseph Richards (1784-1848) of Braintree, Massachusetts and although the evidence suggests similar devices had for centuries been in use (presumably crated ad-hoc by stonemasons or tool-makers), this issue of the 1828 patent triggered an onrush of patent applications for stonemasonry tools and the US Patent Office (which classed them as “bush hammers” or “mill picks” to distinguish them from other hammers) soon had literally dozens of variants on the books.

In English law, letters patent and royal decrees (now more commonly styled as royal proclamations) are instruments with which the Crown exercises its prerogative powers, but they differ in form, purpose, and legal effect.  Letters patent are formal, written documents issued under the Great Seal, open for public inspection, declaring the monarch’s will in a matter of public record; they are addressed to all subjects, not to an individual or private recipient.  As an administrative device, letters patent are used to confirm rights, titles, offices, or privileges (including creating or conferring peerages or knighthoods) granting corporate charters (universities or city incorporations etc), issuing patents of invention or land grants and appointing public offices of state (governors, judges etc).  As legal devices, they operate as instruments of grant rather than command and unusually, take effect by virtue of being published, not by their delivery, registration or some form of gazetting.  Importantly, they can be subject to judicial challenge and voided if found to have been issued ultra vires (a legal maxim from the from Latin ultra vires (beyond the power) meaning (in this case) held to be beyond the monarch’s lawful prerogative) so although sounding something of an echo of the days of absolute power being exercised from the throne, they do operate within modern constitutional limits.

A royal proclamation is a command or declaration made by the monarch and issued over their signature but almost always drafted by the responsible ministers in government and published in the Gazette.  While a term like “royal proclamation” sounds like it might be used for commands like “off with their heads”, in modern use, typically, they’re invoked to announce or enforce policies, order, or regulations and that this is done under the royal prerogative is merely procedural.  So, while most are prosaic, (the regulation of this and that; announcing public holidays or public ceremonies etc), historically, royal proclamations have declared war and routinely still are the instrument summoning or dissolving parliament.  In the narrow technical sense the royal proclamation operates as an executive command rather than a grant but has a valid force of law only when issued under a lawful prerogative or statutory authority (since the Bill of Rights (1689), proclamations cannot create new offences or change existing law without the consent of both houses of parliament (as modified by the Parliament Acts (1911 & 1949)).

Mr Andrew Mountbatten Windsor (the former Prince Andrew, Duke of York) in the Garter robe he no longer dons (at least not when in public view).  Mr Mountbatten Windsor is the great grandson of King George V.

Because most are procedural, letters patent usually barely register in the public consciousness but, around the world, their use in late 2025 in the matter of Andrew Albert Christian Edward Mountbatten Windsor (b 1960) certainly made headlines.  Mr Mountbatten Windsor once was styled HRH (His Royal Highness) Prince Andrew, Duke of York, KG (Knight Companion of the Most Noble Order of the Garter), GCVO (Knight Grand Cross of the Royal Victorian Order) but the controversy about his alleged conduct with certain young women associated with the convicted child sex offender Jeffrey Epstein (1953–2019) meant that between 2022 and 2025, almost all his many titles gradually were (in one way or another) put into abeyance before his brother Charles III (b 1948; King of the United Kingdom since 2022) issued the letters patent effectively removing all.

Until that point, the gradual nibbling away of Mr Mountbatten Windsor’s array of titles had been an example of inept crisis management with him in 2022 ceasing to be a “HRH” in a “public capacity” but remaining one in his “private capacity”.  That didn’t mean he could use it only in his bedroom but meant it couldn’t be used were he to appear at any “official public event”.  While one being able to call oneself “HRH” only in private (presumably among consenting adults) might sound a bit of a slap on the royal wrist, it is possession of styles and titles which determine one’s place in the “order of precedence”, something of great significance to those who move in certain circles because where one sits on the pecking order determines things like who has to bow or curtsy to whom and whether at events one gets to sit somewhere nice with the dukes & earls or is shunted off into a corner with the provincial mayors and eldest sons of knights.  As a weapon, the removal of the “HRH” has been used against the Duchess of Windsor (Wallis Simpson; 1896–1986), Diana, Princess of Wales (1961-1997) and the Duchess of Sussex (Meghan Markle; b 1981).  Although Mr Mountbatten Windsor’s notorious television interview (approved by the palace courtiers against the advice of the media pros) seemed at the time the nadir of the crisis management of the “Andrew problem” (ranking with Boeing’s handing of the 737 Max’s “issues” and Intel’s attempt to “non-handle” the flaws in the original Pentium’s inbuilt math co-processor), the “drip feed” of the way his styles and titles gradually were eroded made things worse still.  As a footnote, the former Prince Andrew is now known as “Andrew Mountbatten Windsor” rather than “Andrew Windsor” because his father (Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh (1921–2021)) was upset his sons wouldn’t bear his name so the “Mountbatten” was added.

Revelations about his alleged conduct continued to emerge and in mid October, 2025, it was announced that following discussions with the king, he would cease to make use of the styles of address to which he was entitled as a duke and twice a knight of the realm (both knighthoods being in orders of chivalry in the personal gift of the sovereign (his mother) with no involvement by government).  That didn’t mean he ceased to be a duke (with subsidiary peerages) or the possessor of two knighthoods in orders of chivalry, just that he would no longer “use them”.  That meant for all public purposes he would revert to what he was by virtue of his birth: plain old “Prince Andrew”.  Had the revelations stopped there, the “fix” might have worked but as fresh accusations continued to appear, not only was the press making trouble but there were suggestions “the Andrew problem” might be discussed on the floor of the House of Commons where members enjoy what’s called “parliamentary privilege” (the right to make even defamatory statements without risk of legal action).  What appeared to be of particular interest to some politicians was Mr Mountbatten Windsor remaining eighth in the line of succession to the British throne (and thus the monarchies of Australia, the Bahamas, Belize, Canada and such).

Accordingly, on 30 October 2025, the palace announced the king would be removing all his brother's styles, titles, and honours.  While technically this does not revoke the peerages, it does mean they are no longer “effective” and thus not affecting the vital order of precedence.  On 3 November, the king issued letters patent stripping Andrew of both the style “HRH” and title “prince”.  That the king can do this by the mere inking of a sheet of vellum is because (1) letters patent are a powerful tool and (2) in 1917 George V (1865–1936; King of the United Kingdom & Emperor of India 1910-1936) effectively codified the monarch’s authority in such matters; no involvement by parliament being required.  In 1917 the UK was at war with the German Empire so anti-German sentiment was about and as well as changing the royal family’s name from the obviously Teutonic Saxe-Coburg-Gotha to Windsor, the opportunity was taken for an “agonizing reappraisal” of the domestic structure.

Letters Patent issued by George V, 30 November 1917.  When mention was made to the "Great Seal of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland", the reference was literally to a big wax seal.

Thus, King George V issued letters patent restricting use of the titles “Prince” & “Princess” and the style “HRH” to certain close relatives of the monarch: (1) the children of the sovereign, (2) the male-line grandchildren of the sovereign (3) and the eldest living son of the eldest son of the Prince of Wales (ie the heir apparent’s eldest son).  Other descendants of the monarch would be styled as children of dukes (Lord or Lady).  In doing this George V wasn’t claiming or asserting a new royal prerogative (it had long been acknowledged) but his issue of the 1917 Letters Patent was the moment it was codified and assumed the force of a formal decree.  That’s why it’s misleading to say the UK doesn’t have a written constitution; it’s just all the bits and pieces don’t appear in one consolidated document al la the US, Australia or the old Soviet Union.  The words of the 1917 Letters Patent were:

“Whitehall, 30^th November, 1917.  The KING has been pleased by Letters Patent under the Great Seal of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, bearing date the 30th day of November, 1917, to declare that the children of any Sovereign of these Realms and the children of the sons of any such Sovereign and the eldest living son of the eldest son of the Prince of Wales shall have and at all times hold and enjoy the style, title or attribute of Royal Highness with their titular dignity of Prince or Princess prefixed to their respective Christian names or with their other titles of honour; and that the grandchildren of the sons of any such Sovereign in the direct male line (save only the eldest living son of the eldest son of the Prince of Wales) shall have and enjoy in all occasions the style and title enjoyed by the children of Dukes of these Our Realms.

And forasmuch as it has become expedient that the usage whereby the style, title or attribute of Royal Highness and of Prince or Princess shall be borne by other descendants of Our said Grandfather of blessed memory shall cease, We do hereby further declare that the said styles, titles or attributes shall not henceforth be borne by such descendants of Our said Grandfather save those above mentioned.”

Legally, “Our said Grandfather” actually referred to Victoria (1819–1901; Queen of the UK 1837-1901) and what the proclamation did was revoke the practice from Victoria’s time where almost all male-line descendants of the monarch were styled as princes or princesses.  Some countries still operate on the Victorian basis and a particular example is Saudi Arabia, a nation where, under their interpretation of the Sharia, kings and princes may enjoy more than the four wives which is the accepted limit in most Islamic nations which permit polygyny.  The royal scions have thus proliferated and if one moves in certain exulted circles, apart from the odd waiter or hairdresser, it can be possible to go through life and never meet a Saudi who is not a prince or princess.  In Saudi, for many reasons, it would be difficult to change the system but in Demark there recently was a cull of princes and princesses (the titles that is) with those who didn’t make the cut reverting to being count and countess of this and that.  For almost a century the 1917 Letters Patent remained the convention followed but  on 31 December 2012, Elizabeth II (1926-2022; Queen of the UK and other places, 1952-2022) issued letters patent extending both HRH and Prince or Princess status to all the children of the eldest son of the Prince of Wales:

“Whitehall, 31^st December, 2012.  The QUEEN has been pleased by Letters Patent under the Great Seal of the Realm dated the 31st day of December 2012 to declare that all the children of the eldest son of The Prince of Wales should have and enjoy the style, title and attribute of Royal Highness with the titular dignity of Prince or Princess prefixed to their Christian names or with such other titles of honour.”

What that achieved was a bit of “title creep”.  Under the George V rule, only the eldest living son of the eldest son of the Prince of Wales would have been styled a prince; younger siblings would not have been princes or princesses but rather Lord or Lady Mountbatten-Windsor.  What Elizabeth II’s 2012 Letters Patent did was equalize things so all the children of the eldest son of the Prince of Wales would be both HRH and princes or princesses; it’s a thoughtful great-grandmother who thinks of a way to avoid sibling rivalry.  There have since been no further general amendments to the 1917 convention although the royal prerogative has been used to grant or remove titles individually, such the letters patent issued granting the titles prince & princess to the Duke of Sussex’s children.

Windsor Castle, September, 2025.

The UK government's state banquet in honor of the visiting Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021 and since 2025), hosted in Windsor Castle in September 2025.  Where one sits on the UK's order of precedence will influence (1) whether one is invited and (2) whether one gets a "good" seat.  Among US presidents, Mr Trump's second state visit was unprecedented.

So, titles and styles are quite a thing in royal families because they operate as a pecking order atop a pecking order.  Despite the frequency with which the claim is made, the British royal family is not wholly averse to change and one change they would be welcome would be things going back to how they were done decades or centuries ago: In 1938, George VI (1895–1952; King of the United Kingdom 1936-1952), being driven through Surry in the company of a US journalist, gestured through the window towards Runnymede, telling his companion: “That’s where the troubles started”.  For the institution of the monarchy, there have since 1215 been many troubles, some quite serious but apart for a brief, aberrant, republican interlude, one royal household or another has remained in place, challenges dealt with as they’ve arisen.  For the royal family, the matter of “the Andrew problem” is not so much what he’s alleged to have done (which could have been handled with the odd wry smile and otherwise never spoken of) but the ghastliness of it becoming public knowledge among “the common people”.  The attraction of “fixing things” by the use of letters patent is it’s quick and (it’s hoped) will mean “the Andrew problem” doesn’t end up being discussed in the House of Commons.  That would be bad enough but once such things start they can get out of hand and if one matter about the royal family is being discussed in parliament, there’s no guarantee it wouldn’t lead to other aspects being questioned.  There are many things about the royal family and their place in the UK’s constitutional apparatus which they’d prefer not be discussed and certainly not in the House of Commons.  As a tactic, the letters patent may well keep the commoners in the Commons at bay but Mr Mountbatten Windsor’s life may yet get worse because various institutions in the US are interested in questioning him in relation to alleged offences committed on US soil and an extradition request is not impossible.