Estate

Estate (pronounced ih-steyt)

(1) A piece of landed property, especially one of large extent with an elaborate house on it.

(2) By extension, in computing, an institution’s collective ICT (information & communications technology) resources.

(3) In law, property or possessions.

(4) In law, the legal position or status of an owner, considered with respect to property owned in land or other things (the degree or quantity of interest that a person has in land with respect to the nature of the right, its duration, or its relation to the rights of others; interest, ownership, or property in land or other things.

(5) In law, the property of a deceased person, a bankrupt etc, viewed as an aggregate.

(6) In UK use, a housing development (sometimes a class-based slur (Council estate (ie directed at those living in social housing)).

(7) As “industrial estate”, land areas designated exclusively for industrial or commercial purposes.

(8) In automotive use, as “estate car” (often clipped to “estate”), an alternative term for a station wagon.

(9) A period or condition of life (archaic).

(10) Within society, one of the major political or social group or classes, historically: (1) the clergy, (2) the nobles, and (3) everybody else; they were style respectively as first, second & third estates with a fourth (the press) later added.  Subsequent additions are not universally acknowledged.

(11) Condition or circumstances with reference to worldly prosperity, estimation, etc.; social status or rank.

(12) The owner of an estate (obsolete).

(13) Pomp or state (obsolete).

(14) High social status or rank (obsolete).

(15) To give an estate to (obsolete).

(16) To bestow upon (obsolete).

1175–1225: From the Middle English estat, from Anglo-Norman estat and Old French estat (state, position, condition, health, status, legal estate), from the Latin status (state or condition, position, place; social position of the aristocracy), from the primitive Indo-European PIE root sta- (to stand, make or be firm).  It was cognate with the Provençal estat and for some time in Anglo-French there was the spelling astat; the form endures in modern French as état.  The native word in the Middle English was ethel (ancestral land or estate, patrimony), from the Old English æðel.  Estate is a noun, verb & adjective, estateman is a noun, estating is a verb and estated is an adjective; the noun plural is estates.

The idea of an estate being the collective property and liabilities of someone (usually of the deceased, bankrupts or debtors) dates from the 1820s and as well as being part of legal jargon (in probate or bankruptcy proceedings), it became a commercial term (“estate sale”, “estate jewellery” etc).  That ultimately was derived from the thirteen century sense when it was used generally of one’s “state, condition or rank in society”.  Presumably because of late fourteenth century use of “estate” to mean “real property” (ie land), in the early 1500s the meaning in this context between then and seventeenth century extended (socially upwards) to imply “a person of estate” (ie the rich, nobility, gentry etc); that was an example of “linguistic association” and the various uses ran in parallel with the technical use in law.  As early as the fourteenth century, there was the idea of “Estates of the Realm”, each a major social class or order of persons regarded collectively as part of the body politic of the country and possessing distinct (and very different) political rights.  At the time the “major” in that phrase referred either to wealth and power (the clergy or nobility) or sheer numbers (everybody else).  By the eighteenth century, the use of “estate” to refer to “the general body politic; the common-wealth” had faded and had been replaced by “the state” and later, “the nation”.

The Third Estate dealing with the First & Second: Execution of Marie Antoinette (1755–1793; Queen Consort of France 1774-1792), 16 October, 1793 by an unknown artist.

In the English-speaking world, the classic example of the three “political estates” was the English model of the Lords Spiritual (bishops), Lords Temporal (hereditary peers) and Commons.  There were though variations on the theme.  The ancient Parliament of Scotland comprised the king and three estates: (1) archbishops, bishops, abbots & mired priors, (2) the barons and commissioners of shires and stewartries (the lands under the jurisdiction of a steward (a magistrate appointed by the crown to exercise jurisdiction over royal lands)) and (3) the commissioners from the royal burghs.  In France the three estates were (1) the nobles, (2) the clergy and (3) the plebs; collectively, these were known as the États Généraux (pronounced ay-tah zhay-nay-roh).  Before Louis XVI (1754–1793; King of France 1774-1792) on 5 May, 1789, summoned the assembly, the États Généraux hadn’t met for 175 years, that meeting in 1614 convened during the minority reign of Louis XIII (1601–1643; King of France 1610-1643).  The 1614 assembly ended in deadlock and that meant no legislative measures ensued (suiting the kings and most of the nobility), thus cementing absolutism as the nature of the French state; operating as absolute monarchs, kings had no interest in sharing power and it was only as a last resort in 1789 with the ancien regime facing a catastrophic financial crisis and structural gridlock that Louis XVI fell compelled to convene the assembly.  By then, it was too little, too late and before long, the guillotine began its bloody business.

Danse Macabre of Basel (circa 1450), a memento mori painting by an unknown artist, Historisches Museum Basel (Basel Historical Museum), Barfüsserkirche, Basel, Switzerland.

The Danse Macabre (Dance of Death) was an artistic genre of allegory dating from the late Middle Ages; exploring the universality of death, it made clear that however high or low exulted one’s station in life, the death ultimately will visit all.  It was a popular artistic motif in European folklore and the most elaborated of all Medieval macabre art.  During the fourteenth century, Europe was beset by deathly horrors, recurring famines, the Hundred Years’ War (1337-1453) and, looming over all, the Black Death, an outbreak of bubonic plague which between 1346-1353 may have killed as many as 50 million, making it one of history's most lethal pandemics.  In reducing the population of Europe by between a third and a half, its demographic, political and economic implications were felt for centuries.  The artists often included some subtle comment about the way something like plague could take victims regardless of their wealth or social standing.  In the modern era, the principle remains, one just as dead whether one is struck by a meteorite, drinks oneself to death or is murdered by the Freemasons.

In the UK, while the composition has much changed, structurally the estates still exists as the (1) the Lords Spiritual (26 Church of England bishops with ex officio seats in the House of Lords, (2) the Lords Temporal (hereditary and life peers, a subset of each sitting in the House of Lords) and (3) the Commons (elected representatives sitting in the House of Commons).  Those examples are however only formalized examples of the ancient (and almost certainly universal) graduation of societies into hierarchical layers.  While the criteria used to establish the layers could between cultures vary, as far as is known, no society with any form of organization has ever not operated on some sort of stratified basis, something not surprising given that’s the inherent (and natural) arrangements of families, human or animal.  Indeed, so pervasive was the idea of “degree” that in the highly stratified Europe of the late Middle Ages, it extended even to the rank-order of birds in the sport of falconry: falcons exclusively were for royalty, peregrines for noblemen, merlins for noblewomen, goshawks for yeomen, sparrowhawks for priests and kestrels for knaves or servants.  Whether in the royal court, the Church, the orders of chivalry or whatever, there were established and well-understood layers.  Even in art, the sense of a living in a layered system was reflected, the many artists between the fourteenth and sixteenth centuries who created memorable illustrations of the danse macabre depicting the members of the various estates going to their inevitable death is ways that reflected their status; while there might in death be a kind of democratic equality, the last days of some were celebrated more than others although the works often were satirical and it’s obvious the demise of the rich wasn’t always something to be mourned.

Statue of Edmund Burke (erected 1868), in electro-typed copper-bronze on a square-plan, carved stepped granite plinth with incised lettering, Trinity College, Dublin, Ireland.  Photograph by John Sutton.

The three (in England) estates were originally the three classes of people who could participate in government, either directly or by electing representatives, originally the clergy, barons & knights and the commons (though over time this would change).  Later the “three estates” were sometimes written of as “the three organs of governmental” necessary for legislation: the Crown, the House of Lords and the House of Commons.  Building on the notion of three, the idea of a “Fourth Estate” started to appear in satirical or jocular expressions, the targets of the tag including “the mob” (1752) and “the lawyers” (1825).  In time, a “new” Fourth Estate did join the list and it described the press, the origin often attributed to Anglo-Irish Whig statesman and philosopher Edmund Burke (1729-1797) although the concept was popularized in the writings of Irish literary critic & essayist William Hazlitt (1778–1830); what Burke had suggested was that with newspapers becoming more numerous and more influential, journalists, editors and publishers should be regarded as “the Fourth Estate”.  First seriously discussed in early the 1820s, within a decade the term had gained currency, supplanting earlier associations (although in both Burke and Hazlitt there are unsubtle hints they likely thought of journalists as “the mob in print”, a view doubtlessly reflecting the opinions of most politicians.  From the modest (if sometimes strident) folios of the eighteenth century to Rupert Murdoch’s (b 1931) Fox News today, it’s clear Burke’s insight was prescient.  Subsequent creations have not universally been accepted as part of the political lexicon but the ideas explored are not without foundation.  The term “Fifth Estate” was first seen in the US during the 1960s counterculture and was used as the name of a newspaper first printed in Detroit in 1965 and still published.  Were one generous one could describe that publication as an example of “critical theory” but it was of its time and certainly an outlet for discontent and dissent.  The understanding of the Fifth Estate evolved into a socio-cultural reference encompassing the opinions of those generally excluded from (or at least marginalized by) the mainstream media and in the twenty-first century it included those distributing their content on blogs, vlogs and social media platforms.  It became a generally accepted concept.

Rupert Murdoch with an edition of News of the World, October 1968.

Mr Murdoch is the last of the old style “press barons” (though he declined Margaret Thatcher's (1925–2013; UK prime-minister 1979-1990) offer of a peerage), it will be interesting to see, decades from now, if history acknowledges him, politician W.M. "Billy" Hughes (1862–1952; prime minister of Australia 1915-1923), virologist Sir Macfarlane Burnet (1899–1985) or second wave feminist Germaine Greer (b 1939) as the twentieth century's most influential Australian.  All cast long shadows, some darker than others.

Less accepted is the idea, first suggested in the late 1980s (before the www (world wide web made the internet an accessible, mass market commodity) there’s a “Sixth Estate” functioning as an observer, critic, and counterweight to the Fourth (the press) and Fifth Estate (non-mainstream online media).  The basis of the concept was the realization a political phenomenon of the 1980s was groups of citizens organizing as pressure groups to pursue issues of interest that although tending to be relatively small in number, their clever use of the mainstream media meant they were able (often as “agenda-setters”) to exert an influence beyond their size and budgets.  Obviously, blogs and social media were the natural environment for such groups although, as big tech rapidly honed their techniques, it’s likely in some cases the hunter has been captured by the game but, at least for their sectional audiences, some of the “Sixth Estate” functions still as an unofficial counterweight to the traditional press (now described variously as the “mainstream media” (however archaic that may be), “legacy media” or, as Donald Trump (b 1946; POTUS 2017-2021 and since 2025) prefers: “fake news media”.  Wholly opportunistic was the attempt to coin “Seventh Estate”.  That was the idea the newest influence to reach critical mass and influence was the “expert strategic advisor”, apparently a collective term for “business analysts, management consultants, thought leaders, market researchers” and such.  The notion of the Seventh Estate seems less a serious contribution to political theory than a marketing promotion.  There may be a case to be made for the recognition of a Seventh Estate and that is as a description of consumer-packaged AI (artificial intelligence).  While philosophers and scientists can write erudite pieces discussing why what AI produces can’t be “independent thought”, it certainly can appear to be and, as theories of cognition explain, that may be enough for some to legitimize AI as the “Seventh Estate”.

Estate cars

UK advertising for the Australian-built Chrysler Valiant Regal Estate, 1975.

Although with engines as large as 360 cubic inch (5.9 litre) V8s, the Australian-built Chrysler Valiants might seem a curious choice for the UK market in the post-oil shock 1970s, the demise of the big Humbers left a gap in the range and in 1967 the Australian cars had the advantage of benefiting from the Commonwealth preference scheme, a low tariff regime which was the last relic of the chimera of imperial free trade.  Sales were never more than a trickle but the Chryslers were close to unique in the tiny market segment and the programme for a while remained profitable even after the tariff advantage was lost in 1973 when the UK joined the EEC (European Economic Community (1957), the Zollverein that would evolve into the EU (European Union (1993)); The cars remained available until 1976.  Although in Australia and South Africa the Valiant station wagons had been called “Safaris” (after 1973 they would in the home market become “station wagons”), in the UK they were always marketed as “Estates”, reflecting the local practice.

1950 Ford Country Squire.

The model represented a transition in method, the timber still real (mahogany plywood with birch or maple spars) but the roof now of steel.  The timber component would later become “fibreglass over appliqué” and that look would for decades endure though as something purely decorative with no structural role. Although the look is better known as the “station wagon”, “estate cars” began life literally as “a car built for use on one’s estate”.  Because, in this context, ownership of an estate was a preserve of the rich (including many with massive debts), the parameters of an estate car’s design included being large, comfortable and able easily to accommodate life’s essentials (hunting dogs, polo gear, fishing rods, shotguns etc).  So that was specific but while there was sufficient demand to make the early estate cars for decades a thing in the catalogues of coachbuilders, there weren’t that many rich folk so rather than using full-metal bodies, what tended to be done was take a the chassis and frontal components of a conventional two or four-door saloon and add a “station wagon like” rear section in timber.  Combining the eye of a coachbuilder with the hands of craftsmen skilled in timberwork, some elegant creations emerged in the pre-war years (some built as late as the 1950s) and the look influenced mainstream manufacturers in the post-war years with timber spars and panels appearing on station wagons, sedans and convertibles (although fibreglass and plastic appliqué would soon replace the natural product, despite which the “woodie” & “woody” nicknames remained).  Inheriting an earlier tradition, the coach-built estate cars came to be called “shooting brakes”.

Estate cars stared life on the estates of the rich: 1937 Bentley 4¼-Litre Shooting Brake by Vincents of Reading.

Although entirely representative of the style of shooting brakes built in the 1930s, Bentley 4¼-Litre chassis B142JD retained until 1949 its original all-weather tourer body by Vanden Plas, converted to a shooting brake in 1949-1950 by the coachbuilder Vincents of Reading.  Founded in 1805 and best known in the era for their closed horse-drawn carriages and railway cars, Vincents began building bodies for motor cars in 1899 but their most commercially successful lines turned out to be the “horse boxes” (now often called “horse floats”) which could accommodate up to four horses and were towed behind cars or trucks.  Post-war realities meant coach-building became a challenging business model and in the late 1940s Vincents shifted their focus to trucks and busses which provided a more stable flow of contracts but a small volume of cars were built as late as 1955; the Bentley shooting brake on a 1937 chassis was untypical but an example of the bespoke work possible.  Vincents built their last car body in 1981.

1961 Chrysler New Yorker Town & Country Wagon.

The economies of scale of the US industry in the post-war years was achieved volume production and efficient assembly with a high degree of interchangeability of parts.  What that meant was it was viable to manufacture even low-volume ranges like the four-door hardtop (ie no B-pillar) station wagons.  As a body-style, they were unique in the world and were in their era kind of the "ultimate estate" and a then unusual combination of something originally purely functional (the station wagon) with the flourish of a motif (the four-door hardtop) that had no purpose other than to look stylish; never big sellers, they were available for a decade, the last produced in 1964.  The same mix 'n' match approach would later produce the sports car based shooting brakes.

The industry never formalized the exact meaning of “shooting brake” but, by convention, since at least the 1920s, it came to be used to describe a two-door car (there were variations) with estate-car coachwork added aft, usually in timber (although some sheet metal was sometimes included).  The origin of the use lies in the original shooting brakes, large horse-drawn carts suitable for use by shooting parties (ie groups of people being taken to a spot at which it was convenient to slaughter wildlife).  The “brake” element in the name was derived from the popularity of the heavy-framed carts for in “breaking-in” spirited horses; etymologists have pointed out the Dutch brik (cart or carriage) but any link is speculative.  In the UK, the term “brake” became so identified with large horse-drawn carts it was applied widely, extended to carts generally, whether or not used by shooting parties.  In France, an estate car (station wagon) was called a break, the French (somewhat unusually) following the example in English, the original form having been break de chasse (hunting break).

Marilyn Cole (b 1949) with the pink Volvo 1800ES she was in 1973 awarded as the prize for being judged Playboy magazine’s PotY (Playmate of the Year).  The last scion of the P1800 coupé (1961-1972), the 1800ES was made only in 1972-1973, production ending because it would have been prohibitively expensive to re-engineer the old platform to meet US safety standards.  The lovely lines of the “estate section” were an in-house project and it remains perhaps the most accomplished shooting brake adaptation from a coupé.  In Sweden, its nickname was Fiskbilen (fish van) which wasn't encouraging but in German-speaking lands, it was dubbed the rather more charming Schneewittchensarg (Snow White's coffin), a nod to the frameless, all-glass rear door.  Doubtlessly the statuesque Ms Cole won PotY on merit but her photo-shoot was the first in which a “full-frontal nude” image appealed in the magazine so that alone may have been enough to persuade the judges.

Not all Volvo estates were as admired Snow White's coffin: Lindsay Lohan with sledgehammer destroying Volvo V70 Estate (1996-2000).

The stunt was something to do with a TV series being cancelled and while an explanation was provided, the rationale was a little difficult to understand and the text was TLDR but whatever, a Volvo got trashed and Ms Lohan obviously enjoyed swinging a sledgehammer so all's well that ends well.  It's impressionistic but it does seem likely the unfortunate reputation once attached to Volvo drivers was disproportionately gained because of those driving the estates.  

Sir David Brown's original Aston Martin DB5 shooting brake, 1965.

In recent decades, what are labelled shooting brakes have tended to be based on fast (or at least “fast-looking”) sports cars rather than the large chassis preferred for the purpose during the inter-war years.  While the shooting brakes commissioned by the HFS (huntin’, fishin’ & shootin’) set could be well-proportioned and even elegant, they were not “sporty” but that market niche emerged in the 1960s.  The best known early examples were the Reliant Scimitar GTE (1968-1986) and Volvo 1800 ES (1972-1973) and what legitimized the style (a two-door coupé with estate coachwork to the aft) was what Sir David Brown (1904–1993) thought would be a one-off based on an Aston Martin DB5 coupé (1963-1965, which the factory, in their English way, called a “saloon”).  Sir David liked his DB5 saloon but found it too cramped comfortably to accommodate his polo gear, shotguns and hunting dogs.  Now, that would be called a “first world problem” but because Brown then owned Aston Martin, he simply wrote out a work order and had his craftsmen create a bespoke shooting brake (thereby confirming the informal English definition of the term: “station wagon owned by someone rich”) which they did by hand-forming the aluminum panels with hammers over wooden formers.  It delighted him and solved the problem but created another because good customers started writing him letters asking for their own.  While folk offering to pay for a company's products usually is a good thing, at the time, Aston Martin was at full capacity building DB5s and developing the up-coming DB6, DBS and V8 models.  With a bulging order book, the resources didn’t exist to add a niche model so the project was out-sourced to the coachbuilder Radford which built a further 11 (and subsequently another 6 based on the DB6 (1965-1971)).  The “sporty” shooting brakes of course had nothing like the storage capacity of the old-style versions, the design imperative being to enlarge a sports car’s luggage space beyond the traditional “toothbrush & bikini”.  So they were better suited to dirty weekends or trips to the ski slopes than a day spent slaughtering wildlife but nobody seems to have thought of a better term and because of the historic association with class & wealth, the target market likes “shooting brake”.

Leveraging her real-life history of driving incidents and DUI incidents, Lindsay Lohan appeared in the Esurance “Sorta Mom” spoof insurance commercial, shown during the 2015 Super Bowl.  The fourth-generation Chrysler Town & Country minivan (2001-2007) was typical of what “soccer moms” drove after the demise of the station wagon.

Citroën CX Loadrunner by Tissier.

The estate version of the Citroën CX (1974-1991) was made between 1975-1991; it was called “Break” in France and “Safari” in the UK.  The most interesting variant was a six-wheel version which permitted a higher load capacity, the best known use as high-speed transporters of newspapers (remarkably heavy in bulk).  Although fitted with low-powered diesel engines, the slippery aerodynamics and advanced suspension made high average speeds possible and proved the most economical way to move the quickly, over distances.  This was a pre-digital version of the “information superhighway”.

“Estate” was but one of the terms used of the body style best known as the “station wagon”, others included “Safari” (France & Australia), “Station Sedan” (Auatralia), “Break” & “Commercial” (France), “Kombi”, “Universal” & “Touring” (Germany”) and “Squire” (US).  The station was perhaps the most emblematic vehicle of post-war America, its popularity a product of (1) increasing prosperity leading to the “two car household” becoming the norm, (2) families moving from cities to newly developed, sprawling suburbs and (3) shopping patterns shifting from inner city department and grocery stores to vast suburban malls (with ever larger car parks, groceries taken from store to car by the provided shopping carts).  Thus the perfect conjunction: women and their station wagons driving to the mall to shop, a model which contributed to the post war US boom.  Internationally long in decline, the station wagon died out in the US by the 1990s although sales in Japan and Europe continued to be strong enough for a number of models to be sustained and in Australia, Holden kept one in the catalogue until the end of the operation in 2017.  Those who once bought station wagons opted instead for minivans, SUVs (sports utility vehicles) or “Crossovers” (vehicles with SUV-like bodywork but built on a lighter platform) while those needing something suitable for unpacking the picnic basket in the polo-ground’s car-park are now (almost) all driving Range Rovers.

Pit

Pit (pronounced pit)

(1) A naturally formed or excavated hole or cavity in the ground.

(2) A covered or concealed excavation in the ground, serving as a trap for animals.

(3) In extractive mining, an excavation made in exploring for or removing a mineral deposit (also known (at scale) as “open-cut” as opposed to “underground” (although in casual use sometime used also of the mineshafts used in underground operations.  It can in mining slang also refer to an entire mine site, regardless of the mode of extraction.

(4) The stone of a fruit (cherry, peach, plum etc) and technically, the hard, inner layer (the endocarp) of certain drupes.

(5) The abode of evil spirits and lost souls; hell; the depths of Hades.

(6) In slang (as “the pits”) an extremely unpleasant, boring, or depressing place, condition, person, etc; the absolute worst (used also as a clipping of armpits).

(7) A hollow or indentation in a surface (in substances like glass or when referring to surfaces (paint, varnish etc), treated usually as an imperfection).

(8) In physiology, natural hollow or depression in the body, organ, structure or part; fossa (used most often of the small of the back).

(9) In medicine, a small, indented scar, as one of at the site of a former pustule after smallpox, chicken pox or similar diseases; a pockmark.

(10) In music, a section of the marching band containing mallet percussion instruments and other large percussion instruments too large to march, such as the tam tam; the area on the side-lines where these instruments are placed.

(11) In botany, any of various small areas in a plant cell wall that remain un-thickened when the rest of the cell becomes lignified (used especially of the vascular tissue).

(12) In archaeology, a hole or trench in the ground, excavated according to grid coordinates, so that the provenance of any feature observed and any specimen or artefact revealed may be established by precise measurement.

(13) An enclosure, usually below the level of the spectators, as for staging fights between dogs, cocks, or, formerly, bears (as cockpit later extended to aircraft, cars, boats etc).

(14) In physical markets (such as a commodity exchange), a part of the floor of the exchange where trading is conducted (known in some places as “as open outcry pits” because transactions were done by traders shouting offers & acceptances at each other).

(15) In architecture, all that part of the main floor of a theatre behind the musicians (in UK use also the main floor of a theatre behind the stalls); sometimes used as “orchestra pit” (the area that is occupied by the orchestra in a theatre, located in front of the stage)

(16) In a hoist-way, a space below the level of the lowest floor served.

(17) In motorsport, an area at the side of a track, for servicing and refueling the cars (the use later adopted by cycle racing).

(18) In ten-pin bowling, the sunken area of a bowling alley behind the pins, for the placement or recovery of pins that have been knocked down.

(19) In track athletics,  the area forward of the take-off point in a jumping event, as the broad jump or pole vault, that is filled with sawdust or soft earth to lessen the force of the jumper's landing.

(20) In casinos, the area or room containing gambling tables.

(21) In aviation, the part of the aircraft (usually the bottom of the fuselage) given over to freight; a luggage hold.

(22) In American football, the centre of the line.

(23) In hospital slang, the emergency department.

(24) Literally, the bottom part (lowest point) of something; figuratively an undesirable location (especially if dirty, dangerous etc).

(25) In military slang, a bed (some evidence also of civilian (presumably ex-military) use).

(26) In nuclear physics, the core of an implosion nuclear weapon, consisting of the fissile material and any neutron reflector or tamper bonded to it.

(27) To mark or indent with pits or depressions.

(28) In medicine, to scar with pockmarks.

(29) In physiology (of body tissue) temporarily to retain a mark of pressure, as by a finger, instrument, etc.

(30) To place or bury something in a pit, as for storage.

(31) To set in opposition or combat, as one against another (usually in the forms “pit against” or “pitted against”).

(32) In motorsport, to exit from the track, entering the pits, to permit the pit-crew to effect a pit-stop.

(33) To remove the stone of a fruit (cherry, peach, or plum), sometimes with the use of a pitter (if something done vocationally, by a pitter, usually with the use of a pitter).

Pre 900: From the Middle English noun pit, pittle, pite, pute, put & putte, from the Old English pytt (natural or man-made depression in the ground, water hole, well; grave (the Kentish variation was “pet”), from the Proto-West Germanic puti, from the Proto-Germanic putt- (pool, puddle) which was the source also of the Old Frisian pet, the Old Saxon putti, the Old Norse pyttr, the Middle Dutch putte, the Dutch put, the Old High German pfuzza and the German Pfütze (pool, puddle), an early borrowing from Latin puteus (pit, trench, shaft) (etymologists noting the phonetic difficulties which exist also in the speculated relationship between puteus and the primitive Indo-European root pau- (to cut, strike, stamp).  Because the short u makes it unlikely puteus was from paviō (to strike), it might instead be linked to putāre (to prune) but the distance between the meanings makes etymologists just as sceptical and some suggest puteus may be a loanword though the spelling might be mysterious.  The use in the context of stone fruit was an Americanism dating from 1841, from the Dutch pet (kernel, seed, marrow), from the Middle Dutch pitte & pit (kernel, core (and cognate with pith)), from the Proto-Germanic pittan (the dialectal German Pfitze (pimple) was an oblique of the Proto-Germanic piþō), from the Proto-Germanic pithan- (source of pith).  Like the use in other contexts, each instance of the verb was derivative of the noun.  Pit is a noun & verb, pitter is a noun and pitted & pitting are verbs; the noun plural is pits.

Ford GT40 pit-stop, Sebring 12 Hours, International Championship for Makes, Sebring, March 1966.

The meaning “abode of evil spirits, hell” dates from the late twelfth century, one of the many means in the medieval world of referring to hell.  The meaning “very small depression or dent in the surface of an object” was in use by the early 1400s, the anatomical sense of “natural depression or hollow in some part of the body” from more than a century earlier.  The “pit of the stomach” was in the literature by the 1650s and it was so-called from the slight depression there between the ribs; the earlier terms used by doctors were the late fourteenth century breast-pit and heart-pit from circa 1300.  The meaning “part of a theatre on the floor of the house, lower than the stage” was known by the 1640s while in market trading, the sense of “that part of the floor of an exchange where business is carried on” was first documented in 1903 as a coining in US English.

One of the high-water marks of the analog era: cockpit of the Anglo-French Concorde.

The phrase money-pit in the sense of “an edifice or project requiring constant outlay of cash with little to show for it” is quite modern, dating only from 1986 and assumed derived from the popular movie of the same name of the same name released that year (though it’s not impossible it had earlier been in regional use).  The prior use had been in the 1930s when it was used of the shaft on Oak Island, Nova Scotia which legend suggested would lead one to treasure buried by Captain Kidd or some other pirate.  Popular Mechanics magazine in September noted wryly the term might better refer to the millions spent trying to get the treasure out than the hoard of gold itself and in 2022, entrepreneurial engineer Elon Musk (b 1971) produced a variation, describing the factories in Europe building the electric Tesla cars as “money furnaces”.  The ash-pit (repository for ashes, especially the lower part of a furnace) dates from 1797 and it replaced the earlier (1640s) ash-hole, reflecting the implications of industrialization as forges and furnaces grew larger.  The venomous snake the pit-viper was so-named in 1872 because of the characteristic depression between the eyes and nose.  In commercial forestry, the pit-saw was first described in the 1670s, referring to a large saw operated by two men, one (the pit-sawyer) standing in the pit below the log being sawed, the other (the top-sawyer) standing atop.  Pitman was one of a wealth of vocationally-derived surnames which began to appear late in the twelfth century and it referred to one who dwelled literally “in or by a pit or hollow”, the use to describe someone who “works in a pit or mine” not documented until 1761.  Pitman shorthand, a popular form of hand-written transcription of spoken-word text which could later be read by a typist (often the “shorthand-taker) came into use in the 1860s, having been devised by English teacher & publisher (and devoted vegetarian) Sir Isaac Pitman (1813-1897) in 1837.  The phrase “flea-pit” dates from the 1920s and was used of cinemas, an allusion to the seats being infested with fleas or other bugs.

A Lindsay Lohan pit-stop from the blooper tape, Herbie: Fully Loaded (2005).

The noun armpit was a mid-fourteenth century description of the “hollow place under the shoulder” and it ran in parallel with the earlier arm-hole although the latter use faded as it came to be used of clothing and as an anatomical descriptor it was obsolete by the mid seventeenth century.  There was also the early fifteenth century asselle, from the Old French asselle, from the Latin axilla but armpit prevailed.  The colloquial phrase “armpit of the nation” was used as a term of derision for any place thought ugly and disgusting and it’s not clear when it emerged but it was well-documented from the early 1960s.  The general term “the pits” was a variation and from late in the twentieth century applied to anything or anyone thought the worse possible of their type (ie based on something hairy, smelly and ugly).  Infamously, it was used by the US tennis player John McEnroe (b 1959) who at Wimbledon in 1981 called an umpire “the pits of the world” during one of their discussions.  The noun pitter (curved instrument for removing stones from cherries and other fruit” appeared in 1868 when pitters were made available as a commercial product (doubtlessly they had for centuries been improvised or adapted from other utensils) and where they were used vocationally, the user was also called a pitter, the same linguistic process which produced the dual use of shucker in the oyster business (the termed adopted also by others).  Pit-a-pat & pitter-pat, being imitative, are wholly unrelated and date from the 1520s, the noun emerging in 1580.

Boeing 787 Dreamliner cockpit.

The original cockpits were first described in the 1580s and were a “pit or enclosed space for fighting cocks”, the use soon extended to any space in which animals were set to fight to the death, the audience betting on the outcome.  From this came the verb use “to pit against” which meant “to put or set in or into a pit” and this soon extended to boxing; by the eighteenth century in figurative use it was used on any conflict, argument or rivalry.  The general verb use (make pits in; form a small pit or hollow) had been in used (as pit, pitted & pitting) by the late fifteenth century.  The dog breed pit-bull dates from 1922 and was short for pit-bull terrier (first registered in 1912), a type noted for its aggression a fighting abilities.  Cockpit was used of ships early in the eighteenth century of midshipmen's compartment below decks and in some cases was later applied also to the enclosed cabins located towards the centre of the deck began to replace the steerage systems at the stern (later universally known as the “bridge”).  It was picked up for the pilot’s compartment in aircraft in 1914 and (by extension) was used in racing cars in the 1930s.  The word cesspit was created in the 1860s because advances in plumbing meant something was needed to distinguish more modern systems handling sewerage from the earlier cesspool, in use since the 1670s.  The mid fourteenth century pitfall (concealed hole into which a person or animal may fall unawares) was a description of a physical danger which came into figurative in the early 1600s to refer to “any hidden danger or concealed source of disaster.  In mining, a pitfall could also be literally a collapse of the internal structure of a mineshaft, sometime because of the catastrophic failure of pit-props (the timbers which provided the structural integrity of a shaft).  Sometimes a mile or more deep, pitfalls frequently were fatal and the death-toll among miners was high, the phrase “pit-hell” often heard.

The original pits at the Indianapolis Speedway, 1913. 

It was difficult and expensive (and often impossible) to lift heavy machinery to allow mechanics to work on engines or other components so, where possible, it was better to construct a pit underneath from which people could work.  The concept was well documented in workshops by 1839 and the term was by 1912 picked up in motorsport to describe the “area at the side of a track where cars are serviced and repaired” and the early pits were often holes in the ground with waist-high surrounds in which the crew could stand.  They were used also to store spare tyres, parts lubricants etc.  As the sport boomed, the pits quickly became fully enclosed service areas and even garages, built along pit-lane.  When a driver brought his car into the pits (located on the stretch of track called pit-straight), they were said to be pitting to be worked on by the pit crew who might during the pit-stop make repairs, re-fuel or change tyres, either in front of or behind the pit-wall.  Pit crew became a popular term beyond the tracks, used of airline baggage handlers, sea-port staff etc.

The pit-babes from the era of (obvious) sponsorship by tobacco companies: Coming or going, they always looked good.

In motorsport, a pit-babe is an attractive young lady who is in the pits for some reason, not necessarily directly related to the competition.  The companion term was Grid-Girl, equally attractive specimens with the role of (1) looking good and (2) appearing on the grid while the cars were assembled prior to the start, shielding the driver from the elements with a large umbrella, festooned with corporate logos.  It was nice work if you could get it but the Grid-Girls are now rarely seen in Formula 1.  In 2017, Liberty Media (owners of Formula 1) announced that with the coming of the 2018 season, the Grid-Girls would be replaced by “Grid-Kids” (boys and girls competing in junior and “entry level” categories such as karting, the explanation being the practice of using Grid-Girls was “not aligned with modern societal norms and F1's brand values.”)  F1’s “brand values” are however underpinned by “dollar values” and in the years since, Grid-Girls (officially "promotional personnel") have sometimes been allowed to adorn the grid.

Comrade Grid-Girls, Hungarian Grand Prix, 1986.  

Dr Henry Kissinger (1923-2023; US national security advisor 1969-1975 & secretary of state 1973-1977) once recalled his most pervasive memory of life behind the iron curtain being one of “dull grayness and the smell of boiled cabbage”.  Clearly, old Henry didn’t get a pit pass to the 1986 Hungarian Grand Prix where things were bright and colourful.  The 1986 Hungarian Grand Prix was notable because it was the first such event in the country for half a century and the first as a top-flight race, the 1936 Grand Prix not being part of the European championship and run under Formula Libre rules (there should be more Formula Libre events).  Not in Hungry or anywhere else in 1936 were there pit-babes or Grid-Girls but on that sunny June day, a woman had been entered for the event, England’s Eileen Ellison (1910–1967) listed for the field driving a 3.0 litre, straight-8 Maserati 8CM.  Unfortunately, there was what would now be called a “supply chain interruption” and her Maserati was a DNA (Did not Appear) so Ms Ellison appears in the race record as a DNS (Did not Start).

End of an era: Grid-Girls in Marlboro livery at the Hungarian Grand Prix, 2005.

In 1936 it turned out to be a bad day for the Mercedes-Benz team, the W25 which had in 1934 been revolutionary now outclassed and all three were DNFs (Did not Finish), the race won by the mercurial Italian Tazio Nuvolari (1892–1953) in a 3.8 litre straight-8 Alfa Romeo 8C 35, entered by Scuderia Ferrari.  Held in August as the eleventh race of the 1986 series, that year’s Hungarian Grand Prix was the first in the country since 1936 and the first Formula 1 World Championship (contested since 1950) race to be held behind the Iron Curtain; it was attended by some 200,000 spectators (drawn substantially from around the Eastern Bloc), a number not seen since the inter-war years and a mark not exceeded until the 1995 Australian Grand Prix in Adelaide.  The race was won by Nelson Piquet (b 1952; Formula One Champion 1981, 1983 & 1987) in a Williams Honda FW11.  The Hungarian Grand Prix returned to the record books in 2005 when the “XXI Marlboro Magyar Nagydij” became the last Grand Prix to be sponsored by a tobacco company, half the field running in the livery of the tobacco industry, West, Mild Seven, Lucky Strike, Malboro and Benson & Hedges all colourfully represented.  With the EU’s (European Union (1993)), the multi-national aggregation which evolved from the EEC (European Economic Community), the Zollverein formed in 1957) ban of tobacco advertising coming into force on 31 July, 2005 (race day!), there ended over four decades of cigarette sponsorship in Formula 1, most teams keeping the livery until the last possible moment, the stickers appearing during qualifying and peeled off only shortly before the machines were wheeled to the starting grid (although Ferrari, Renault and Jordan rebelled and kept the logos without consequences).  Of course, the EU’s law-change meant the pit-babes and Grid-Girls also got new outfits although cunningly, the designs often featured shapes and colors recalling the distinctive packaging used for cigarette cartons so the message got through, and ways were explored to find techniques so the cars could also continue as moving billboards.    

Condign

Condign (pronounced kuhn-dahyn)

(1) Well-deserved; fitting; suitable; appropriate; adequate (usually now of punishments).

(2) As condign merit (meritum de condign), a concept in Roman Catholic theology signifying a goodness that has been bestowed because of the actions of that person

(3) As “Project Condign”, a (now de-classified) top-secret study into UFOs (unidentified flying objects, known also as UAPs (unidentified aerial phenomenon)) undertaken by the UK government's Defence Intelligence Staff between 1997-2000.

1375–1425: From the late Middle English condign, & condigne (well-deserved, merited) from the Anglo-French, from the Old French condign (deserved, appropriate, equal in wealth), from the Latin condignus (wholly worthy), the construct being con- + dignus (worthy; dignity), from the primitive from Indo-European root dek- (to take, accept).  .  The Latin con- was from the Proto-Italic kom- and was related to the preposition cum (with).  In Latin, the prefix was used in compounds (1) to indicate a being or bringing together of several objects and (2) to indicate the completeness, perfecting of any act, and thus gives intensity to the signification of the simple word.  It's believed the UK's MoD (Ministry of Defence) chose “Project Condign” as the name for its enquiry into UFOs (1) because (1) the military like code names which provide no obvious clue about the nature of the matter(s) involved and (2) in the abstract, it conveyed the notion the investigation would provide a measured, proportionate, and sober assessment of the issue (ie a response commensurate with the evidence, not an endorsement of unsubstantiated speculation or explanations delving into the extra-terrestrial or supernatural).  Condign is an adjective, condignity & condignness are nouns and condignly is an adverb; the noun plural is condignities.

In Middle English, condign was used of rewards as well as punishment, censure etc, but by circa 1700 it had come to be applied almost exclusively of punishments, usually in the sense of “deservedly severe”.  Thus used approvingly, the adjectival comparative was “more condign”, the “superlative “most condign”.  That means the synonyms included “fitting”, “appropriate”, “deserved”, “just”, “merited” etc with the antonyms being “excessive”, “inappropriate” & “undeserved”, the latter set expressed by the negative incondign.  However, a phenomenon in the language is that words which have, since their use in Middle English, undergone a meaning shift so complete as to render the original meaning obsolete, can in ecclesiastical use retain the original sense.  In the theology of the Roman Catholic Church, meritum de condigno (condign merit) is that due to a person for some good they have done.  As a general principle, it’s held to be applied to “merit before God”, the Almighty binding Himself, as it were, to reward those who do his will; a kind of holy version of social contract theory.  Among the more simple aspects of Christian theology, the conditions for condign merit are: (1) holding oneself in a state of grace and (2) performing morally good actions.  Not transferable, the beneficiary can be only the person who performs the good act with condign merit based on the revealed fact that God has promised such a reward and as a reward it’s accumulative, each individual condignly meriting an increase of the virtue of faith by every act of faith performed in the state of grace.

Pragmatic parish priests probably are inclined to explain condign merit as a way of encouraging kindness to others (linking it to the notion of “do unto others as you would have them do unto you” which is the essence of the Christian morality) but the theologians stress the significance of meritum de condign is it refers to merit based on justice rather than mere generosity of spirit.  It seems a fine distinction and doubtless is, both to doer of deed and beneficiary but, because the act is performed in a state of grace and is proportionate by God’s own ordinance to the reward promised, it’s a genuine claim based on justice, God rewarding such acts not out of mere benevolence but because freely He has so bound himself.

Project Condign: Unidentified Aerial Phenomena in the UK Air Defence Region (in three volumes).  It turns out they're not out there.

The theologians manage to add layers by stressing meritum de condign can apply only to an individual in a state of grace (and thus justified and acting under sanctifying grace); without grace, no strictly meritorious claim on God is possible.  God may still be generous, but the reward will be granted under another head of power.  Additionally, the act must freely be performed and motivated by charity (love of God); mere kindness in the absence of this love not reaching the threshold.  Unusually, the reward of condign merit is by virtue of a Divine promise, the “justice” not “natural” but “covenantal”, God having imposed upon himself the obligation of reward, therefore it would be incongruum (from the Latin, an inflection of incongruus (inconsistent, incongruous, unsuitable)) for him not to do so and unlike the state in the social contract, God regards Himself truly as bound and the proportion is by divine ordination (ie the proportion between act and reward exists only because God has established it; it is not intrinsic to the act itself.

In certain aspects, the comparison with later legal traditions is quite striking.  Condign merit can apply variously to (1) an increase in charity, (2) an increase of sanctifying grace and (3) heavenly glory (eternal life), insofar as it is the consummation of grace already possessed but crucially, even condign merit presupposes grace entirely: the grace that enables the act is itself unmerited.  In other words, God and the church expect a certain basic adherence and this alone is not enough to deserve condign merit.  The companion term is meritum de congruo (congruous merit) in which a fitting or appropriate reward may be granted but that will be based on God’s generosity rather than being the self-imposed obligation that is condign merit.  If searching for a metaphor, condign merit may be imagined as something given according to a salutatory schedule while congruous merit is more like an ex gratia (a learned borrowing from Latin ex grātiā (literally “out of grace”)) payment (a thing not legally required but given voluntarily).

Santo Tomás de Aquino (Saint Thomas Aquinas, 1476) ,egg tempera on poplar panel by Carlo Crivelli (circa 1430-circa 1495) in a style typical of religious portraiture at at time when some Renaissance painters were still much influenced by late Gothic decorative sensibility.  This piece was from the upper tier of a polyptych (multi-panelled altarpiece) which Crivelli in 1476 completed for the high altar of the church of San Domenico, Ascoli Piceno in the Italian Marche.

Even among the devotional, in the twenty-first century all that may sound mystical or a tiresome theological point but there was a time in Europe when many much were concerned about avoiding Hell and going to Heaven with the Medieval church was there to explain the rules and mechanisms.  The carefully crafted distinction was made by the Italian Dominican friar, philosopher & theologian Saint Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274) in the Summa Theologiae (Summary of Theology, a work still unfinished by the time of the author’s death) and re-affirmed, essentially unaltered, during Session VI (Decree on Justification) of the Council of Trent (1545-1563).  In modern practice, priests don’t much bother their flock with Aquinas’s finely honed thoughts and instead exhort them to acts of kindness, rather than dwelling too much on abstractions like whether God will reward them by virtue of obligation or generosity, the important message being the Almighty remains sole source of both grace and reward, thus the importance to keep in a state of grace with him.

Google ngram (a quantitative and not qualitative measure): Because of the way Google harvests data for their ngrams, they’re not literally a tracking of the use of a word in society but can be usefully indicative of certain trends, (although one is never quite sure which trend(s)), especially over decades.  As a record of actual aggregate use, ngrams are not wholly reliable because: (1) the sub-set of texts Google uses is slanted towards the scientific & academic and (2) the technical limitations imposed by the use of OCR (optical character recognition) when handling older texts of sometime dubious legibility (a process AI should improve).  Where numbers bounce around, this may reflect either: (1) peaks and troughs in use for some reason or (2) some quirk in the data harvested.

So while it has always implied “deserved”, Roman Catholic theologians thus still use “condign” in the context of a “reward for goodness” but in secular use it has for centuries been associated only with punishment and, the more fitting the sentence, the more condign it’s said to be.  As Christianity in the twentieth century began its retreat from Christendom, condign became a rare word and some now list it as archaic although as late as 1926, in A Dictionary of Modern English Usage, Henry Fowler (1858–1933), no great friend of “decorative words” and “elegant variations” though it still worth a descriptive (and cautionary entry: “Condign meant originally ‘deserved’ and could be used in many contexts, with praise for instance as well as with punishment.  It is now used only with words equivalent to ‘punishment’, and means deservedly severe, the severity being the important point, and the desert merely a condition of the appropriateness of the word; that it is an indispensable condition, however, is shown by the absurd effect of: ‘Count Zeppelin’s marvellous voyage through the air has ended in condign disaster’”.

Boris Johnson (right) handling a prize bull (left), Darnford Farm, Banchory, Scotland September, 2019.

Quite what old Henry Fowler would have made of the way the language of Shakespeare and Milton is used on social media and the like easily can be imagined but he’d have been heartened to learn the odd erudite soul still finds a way to splice something like “condign” into the conversation.  One, predictably, was that scholar of Ancient Greek, Boris Johnson (b 1964; UK prime-minister 2019-2022) who, during his tumultuous premiership, needed to rise from his place in the House of Commons to tell honourable members that the withdrawal of the Tory Party whip (“withdrawal of the party whip” a mechanism whereby a MP (Member of Parliament) is no longer recognised as a member of their parliamentary party, even though in some cases they continue for most purposes to belong to the party outside the parliament) from a member accused of sexual misconduct was “condign punishment”.

Mr Johnson was commenting on the case of Rob Roberts (b 1979; MP for Delyn 2019-2024) and while scandal is nothing novel in the House of Commons (and as the matter of Lord Peter "Mandy" Mandelson (b 1953) illustrates, nor is it in the upper house), aspects of the Roberts case were unusual.  In 2021, an independent panel, having found Mr Roberts sexually had harassed a member of his staff recommended he should be suspended from parliament for six weeks.  The panel found he’d committed a “serious and persistent breach of the parliament’s sexual misconduct policy” and although the MP had taken “positive steps”, he’d demonstrated only “limited insight into the nature of his misconduct”, the conclusion being there remained concerns “he does not yet fully understand the significance of his behaviour or the full nature and extent of his wrongdoing.”  Politicians sexually harassing their staff is now so frequent as to be unremarkable but what attracted some interest was that intriguingly, Mr Roberts had identified the problem and it turned out to be the complainant.  When alone together in a car on a constituency visit, the MP had said to him: “I find you very attractive and alluring and I need you to make attempts to be less alluring in the office because it's becoming very difficult for me.”  So it was Mr Roberts who really was the victim and the complainant clearly made an insufficient effort to become “less alluring” because the MP later told the man the advance he had made in the car was “something I would like to pursue, and if you would like to pursue that too it would make me very happy”.  From there, things got worse for the victim (in the sense of the complainant, not the politician).

Official portrait of Rob Roberts, the former honourable member for Delyn.

Mr Roberts had “come out” as gay after 15 years of marriage, the panel noting he’d been “going through several challenges and significant changes in his personal life”, adding these “do not excuse his sexual misconduct”.  Despite his announcement, he also propositioned young female staff members (perhaps he should have “come out” as bisexual), suggesting to one they might: “fool around with no strings”, assuring her that while he “…might be gay… I enjoy … fun times”. In April 2021 the Conservative (Tory) Party had announced that the MP had been "strongly rebuked", but would not lose the whip. Apparently, at the time, it was thought sufficiently condign for him to “undertake safeguarding and social media protection training”.  The next month however, the panel handed down its recommendations and he was “suspended from the services of the house for six weeks”, subsequently losing the Tory whip and had his party membership suspended.  In a confusing coda, after (controversially) returning to the Commons in July 2021, he was re-admitted to the party in October 2021 but was denied the whip, requiring him to sit as an independent until the end of his term.  In the 2024 general election, he stood as an independent candidate in the new constituency of Clwyd East, coming last with 599 votes and losing his deposit.  Privately as well as politically, life for Mr Roberts has been discursive.  After in May 2020 tweeting he was gay and separating from his wife, in 2023, he re-married.

The word even got a run on Rupert Murdoch’s (b 1931) Fox News, an outlet noted more for short sentences, punchy words and repetition than words verging on the archaic but on what the site admitted was a “slow news day”, took the opportunity to skewer Jay Robert “J.B. Pritzker (b 1965, (Democratic Party governor of US state of Illinois since 2019), noting the part the wealth of the “billionaire heir to the Hyatt hotels fortune” had played in defeating a Republican opponent (it couldn’t resist adding that “money in politics” was something crooked Hillary Clinton (b 1947; US secretary of state 2009-2013) “could tell you more about”).  Fox News’s conclusion was “…the shamelessness and even braggadocio with which Pritzker sought to buy the governorship could be a harbinger of things to come.  But, we suppose, having to serve as governor of Illinois is condign punishment for the offense…”

In happier times: But wherever he is in the world, he remains my best pal!  Mandy’s (pictured here in dressing gown, tête-à-tête with Jeffrey Epstein) entry in the now infamous "birthday book", assembled for the latter’s 50^th birthday in 2003.

The matter of condign punishment has in Westminster of late been much discussed because of revelations of the squalid behaviour of Mandy and his dealings with convicted sex offender Jeffrey Epstein (1953–2019).  Undisputedly, one of politics great networkers, Mandy’s long career in the Labour Party was noted not for any great contribution to national life (although he did good work in the project which was "New Labour" but whether he now should regard that a proud boast or admission of guilt he must decide) or achievements in policy development but blatant self-interest, conflicts of interest and repeated recovery from scandal; twice he was forced to resign from cabinet because of matters classed as “conflict of interest” and his whole adult life has been characterized by seeking association with rich men who, for whatever reason, seem to become anxious to indulge his desire to receive generous hospitality and large sums of cash.  Sir Tony Blair (b 1953; UK prime-minister 1997-2007), clearly seeing talent where many others did not, was most forgiving of Mandy’s foibles, twice re-appointing him to cabinet after decided a longer exile would be most incondign and famously once observed his "mission to transform the Labour party would not be complete until it had learned to love Peter Mandelson."  Even Gordon Brown (b 1951; UK prime-minister 2007-2010) who is believed to have existed in a state of mutual loathing with Mandy, was by 2008 in such dire political straits he brought him back to cabinet, solving the problem of finding a winnable seat in the Commons by appointing him to the upper chamber, the House of Lords.  While the presence of the disreputable in the Lords has a tradition dating back centuries, it was thought a sign of the times that Brown “ennobling a grub like Mandelson” to take a seat in the house, where once sat Wellington, Palmerston and Curzon, attracted barely an objection, so jaded by sleaze had the British public become.

Still, even by the standards of Mandy’s troubled past, what emerged from the documents released by the US DoJ (Department of Justice) was shocking.  Not only did it emerge Mandy had lied about the extent of his connections with Epstein but it became clear they had, despite his repeated denials, continued long after Epstein’s 2008 conviction in Florida on charges of soliciting and procuring a minor for prostitution for which he received an 18 month sentence.  So well connected in the Masonic-like UK Labour party was Mandy (and there have been amusing theories about how he has maintained this influence), it might have been possible to stage yet another comeback from that embarrassment but his life got worse when it was revealed large sums of cash had been passed to him (or the partner who later became his husband) by Epstein, transactions made more interesting still when it emerged Mandy appears to have sent to Epstein classified files to which he gained access by virtue of being a member of cabinet.  More remarkable still was Mandy, while a cabinet minister, appearing to operate as a kind of lobbyist in matter of interest to what was described as: “Mr Epstein and his powerful banking friends”.

In happier times, left to right: Tony Blair, Gordon Blair & Mandy (left) and the mean girls: Karen Smith (Amanda Seyfried, b 1985), Gretchen Wieners (Lacey Chabert, b 1982) & Regina George (Rachel McAdams, b 1978) (right).

In the early 1990s, detesting the Tory government, the press were fawning in their admiration and dubbed the New Labour trio "the three musketeers" but they came also to be called: "the good, the bad and the ugly, a collective moniker which may be generous to at least one of them.  There is no truth in the rumor the threesome provided the template for the personalities of the "plastics" in Mean Girls (2004, right) although the idea is tempting because both photographs can be deconstructed thus: Tony & Karen (sincere, well meaning, a bit naïve); Gordon & Gretchen (insecure, desperately wanting to be liked) and Mandy & Regina (evil and manipulative). 

All this was revealed in E-mail exchanges during the GFC (Global Financial Crisis) which unfolded between 2008-2012 after the demise of US financial services firm Lehman Brothers (1850-2008), Mandy giving Epstein “advance notice” the EU (European Union (1993)), the multi-national aggregation which evolved from the EEC (European Economic Community), the Zollverein formed in 1957) would be providing (ie “creating”) a €500bn “bailout” to prevent the collapse of the Euro (the currency used by a number of EU states).  Those familiar with trading on the forex (foreign exchange) markets will appreciate the value of such secret information and, given the trade in global currency dwarfs that in equities, commodities and such, the numbers (and thus the profits and losses) are big.  Pleasingly, in the manner commercial arrangements often are, it was a two-way trade, representations to the UK and US Treasuries arranged in both directions. 

Mandy in underpants (presumably his but who knows?).  There is no suggestion Mandy engaged in inappropriate or improper conduct with this unidentified young lady.

The photograph was released by the US DoJ (Department of Justice) in one of the tranches of files related to convicted paedophile sex trafficker Jeffrey Epstein (1953–2019).  It was shot in Epstein's New York City apartment when asked about the circumstances, his lordship responded by saying he “did not recall”.  About that (lack of) recollection, some were uncharitably cynical but it does seem plausible given (1) Mandy doubtless spent much time meeting folk while wandering Epstein’s apartment in his underpants and (2) because Epstein had so many “acquaintances”, Mandy could hardly be expected to remember them all.

Mandy also acted as Epstein’s advisor about “back channel” ways to influence government policy (ie the government of which he was at the time serving in cabinet) and political scientists probably would concede his advice was sage; he suggested to Epstein he should arrange for the chairman of investment bank J.P. Morgan to “mildly threaten” the UK’s chancellor of the exchequer (the finance minister).  What a cabinet minister is by convention (and implied in various statures) obliged to do is promote and defend government policy while assisting in its execution; should they not agree with that policy, they must resign from government.  Clearly, Mandy decided what is called “cabinet solidarity” was a tiresome inconvenience and in an attempt to change cabinet’s policy on a bankers’ bonus tax, made his suggestion which Mr Epstein must have followed because J.P. Morgan’s Jamie Dimon (b 1956; chairman and CEO (chief executive officer) of JPMorgan Chase since 2006) indeed did raise the matter with the chancellor although opinions might differ on whether what he said could be classed as “mildly threatening”.  In his memoir, Alistair Darling (1953–2023; UK Chancellor of the Exchequer 2007-2010) described a telephone call from Mr Dimon and recalled the banker was “very, very angry” about the plan, arguing “..his bank bought a lot of UK debt and he wondered if that was now such a good idea.  I pointed out that they bought our debt because it was a good business deal for them.  He went on to say they were thinking of building a new office in London, but they had to reconsider that now.”  The lobbying didn’t change the chancellor’s mind and the bonus tax was imposed as planned.  Mandy can’t be blamed for that; he did his bit.

Lindsay Lohan and her lawyer in court, Los Angeles, December, 2011.

Probably the most amusing of Mandy’s reactions to the revelations about his past related to payments he received from Epstein in 2003-2004 (US$75,000 to Mandy and Stg£10,000 to his partner Reinaldo Avila da Silva (the couple married in 2023)).  When late in January, 2026 he resigned from the Labour Party (it’s believed he’d been “tapped on the shoulder” and told he’d be expelled if no letter of resignation promptly was received), he used the usual line adopted these circumstances, saying he wished to spare the party “further embarrassment” and added: “Allegations which I believe to be false that he made financial payments to me 20 years ago, and of which I have no record or recollection, need investigating by me.”  Few seemed to find plausible a man who has such a history of “money grubbing” could fail to recall US$75,000 suddenly being added to his bank balance and, unfortunately for Mandy, various authorities have decided the matters “need investigating by them”. 

In happier times: Mandy (left) with Sir Keir Starmer (right).

One who seems to be taking the betrayals personally is Sir Keir Starmer (b 1962; prime-minister of the UK since 2024) who appointed Mandy as the UK’s ambassador to the US, the prime minister making clear his outrage at the lies Mandy (more than once) told him and his staff during the (clearly inadequate) vetting process.  In one of his more truculent speeches, Sir Keir contrasting himself with Mandy, pointing out that while he’d come late to politics and entered the nasty business with the intention of trying to improve the country, he contrasted that high aim with the long career of Mandy who, it had become clear, viewed “climbing the greasy” pole of public office as a device for personal enrichment.  Hell hath no fury like a prime minister lied to.  Mandy has already resigned his seat in the Lords (now something separate from his possession of the life peerage conferred by Gordon Brown) although, all things considered, that probably was one of history’s less necessary letters.  However, as well as referring his allegedly nefarious conduct to the police and other investigative bodies, the government is said to be drafting legislation to eject Mandy from the Lords and strip him of his noble title: Lord Mandelson.  Given that over the past century odd members of the Lords have been jailed for conduct such as murder, perjury and what was criminalized in The Buggery Act (1533) during the reign of Henry VIII (1491–1547; King of England (and Ireland after 1541) 1509-1547) as “the detestable and abominable Vice of Buggery committed with Mankind or Beast” (the modern wording milder yet the scope of the offence wider) yet not been stripped of their titles, the act will be a bit of a novelty but constitutional experts agree it’s within the competence of parliament, needing only the concurrence of both houses. Not since the passage of the Titles Deprivation Act (1917) have peerages been stripped and that statutory removal happened in the unusual circumstances of World War I (1914-1918) when it was thought the notion of Germans and Austrians holding British titles of nobility was not appropriate though it was a measure of the way the establishment resists change that the war had been raging three years before the act finally received royal assent.

The irony of a gay man becoming entangled in the scandals surrounding a convicted child sex trafficker who allegedly supplied men with girls younger than the age of consent has been noted, some dwelling on that with unseemly relish; it was with both enthusiasm and and obvious relief that members of the Labour Party felt finally free to tell journalists (or anyone else who asked) just what they really thought of Mandy, their previously repressed views views tending to a thumbnail sketch which could be précised as: “evil and manipulative”.  More generally, although it was the English common law which did so much to establish the principle of “innocent until proven guilty”, in parliament and beyond, the consensus seems already reached that Mandy is “guilty as sin”; it’s a question of to what extent and what’s to be done about it.  That will play out but what may happen sooner is that Sir Keir could be the latest of the many victims of Mandy's machinations over the decades.  For matters unrelated to Mandy, the prime minister had anyway been having a rugged time in the polls and on the floor of the house and all that that has thus far ensured the survival of his leadership is thought to be (1) the lack of an obvious contender in the Labour Party and (2) the ineptitude of the Tory opposition, the talents of its MPs now thought to be as low as at any time in living memory.  Sadly, when discussing the travails of Sir Keir, it notable how many commentators have described him with terms like "decent", "integrity" and "honorable" (not qualities much associated with Mandy) but it remains unclear if the prime minister's commendable virtues will prove enough for his leadership to survive in the clatter of one of the moral panics the English do so well.  Over the thirty-odd years, quite often the Labour Party apparatchiks have had to ponder: “What are we going to do about Mandy?” but this time it’s serious and there will be much effort devoted to combining “damage limitation” with what the baying mob will judge at least adequately condign.