Afforce

Afforce (pronounced af-fors)

(1) To strengthen or reinforce by the addition of other or of specially skilled members, deliberative bodies such as juries or tribunals.

(2) To force; compel; violate (obsolete).

(3) Reflexively, to exert one's self; endeavour; attempt (obsolete).

1400s: From the Middle English (in the sense “to force”), from the Old French aforcer, from the Latin exfortiāre, from fortis (strong), from the Proto-Italic forktis, from the primitive Indo-European baergh (to rise, high, hill).  The a- prefix as used here is rare and is in English no longer productive.  It was related to the Latin ad- (to; at) and was used to show or emphasize a state, condition, or manner and was common in Old & Middle English, some of the constructs still used poetically (apace, afire, aboil, a-bling) and some where the specific, technical meaning has endured (asunder, astern).  The Oxford English Dictionary (OED) noted the descent of many of these form to the archaic, suggesting it was part of the organic evolution of the language, these “…prefixes were at length confusedly lumped together in idea, and the resultant a- looked upon as vaguely intensive, rhetorical, euphonic or even archaic and wholly otiose.”  The double-ff is a written tribute to the spoken, afforce formed with an oral prefix; the noun counterpart of this was æf-.  Afforce, afforcing & afforced are verbs, afforcement is a noun; the noun plural is afforcements.

Afforce thus emerged just as a way of emphasizing the notion of force or indicating the act transpiring.  Geoffrey Chaucer (circa 1343-1400) in The Man of Law's Tale (1387), the fifth of the Canterbury Tales uses afforce in that sense:  “Than whan thys wycked Thelous by harde manasses and hys grete strengh the had wyll to afforce her, than she restreynyd hys gret foly by thys reason, ffor cause that her Chylde Moryce the whyche was of the age of.”

That strict arbiter of English use, Sir Ernest Gowers (1880-1966), noted approvingly in his second edition (1965) of Henry Fowler's (1858–1933) Modern English Usage (1926) that the OED as early as 1888 ruled afforce was for all purposes obsolete save "to reinforce or strengthen a deliberative body by the addition of new members, as a jury by skilled assessors or persons acquainted with the facts".  Sir Ernest seemed also pleased the OED had sought to drive a stake through afforce's linguistic heart by not including an entry in the concise (COD) edition of the OED, adding that he regarded any revival as but a flashy "pride of knowledge", a most "un-amiable characteristic", the display of which "sedulously should be avoided".  Sir Ernest had spoken, Henry Fowler would have concurred and in any sense afforce remains vanishingly rare.

Manchester Assize Courts 1934.  Damaged by Luftwaffe raids in 1940-1941, it was demolished in 1957.  Perhaps surprisingly, given some of the ghastly stuff built in post-war years, the replacement Crown Court building has some nice touches and not unpleasing lines.

It was the operation of jury trials in English law which saw the meaning beginning to shift although the legal use did encapsulate both senses.  At common law, the practice to “afforce the assize” was a method for a court to secure a verdict where the jury disagreed.  This was achieved by adding other jurors to the panel until twelve could be found who were unanimous in their opinion, thus the senses (1) afforcement being forcing a jury to verdict and (2) afforcement being the addition of members to the jury.  The word has endured (if rarely used) in this technical sense and not become merely a synonym of augment, somewhat unusual in English where words tend to be co-opted for just about use which seems to fit and it may be that when courts ceased to afforce, juries, the word became stranded in its special, historic sense, a process probably assisted by the practice of adding the a- prefix faded.

Vested with both civil and criminal jurisdiction, the Courts of Assize sat between 1293-1972 in the counties of England and Wales.  The afforcement of the assize was an ancient practice in trials by jury and involved adding other jurors to the panel in cases where the jurors differed among themselves and couldn’t agree in one (sententiam) finding.  In those instances, at the discretion of the judges, either the jury could be afforced or the existing body could be compelled to unanimity by directing the sheriff to lock them up without food or drink until they did agree.  The latter does sound an extreme measure; even when medieval conclaves of cardinals proved unable to organise the numbers to elect a new pope, when their eminences were locked-up, they were at least given bread and water.

However it was done, afforcement or starvation, the objective was to get to the point where there were twelve who could agree on a verdict.  However, as legal theorists at the time observed, this really created a second trial and eventually afforcement was abandoned, both justice and its administration thought better served by an insistence on unanimity (probably an inheritance from canon law and a common thing on the continent where the unanimity of a consultative or deliberative body was deemed indispensable).  Also refined was the practice of confining jurors without meat and drink; now they’re fed and watered and, if after long enough some prove still recalcitrant, the jury is discharged and a new trial may be ordered.  Some jurisdictions have found this too inefficient and have introduced majority verdicts so only ten or eleven of the twelve need to be convinced a defendant is guilty as sin which, as any prosecutor will tell you, they all are. 

Chief Justice Charles Evans Hughes (1862–1948; Chief Justice of the US 1930-1941) taking FDR's oath of office at the start of his second term, 20 January 1937.

There have too been attempts to afforce the bench.  Franklin Delano Roosevelt (1882–1945; US President 1933-1945), not best pleased at repeatedly having parts of his New Deal legislation declared unconstitutional by the US Supreme Court, in 1937 created the Judicial Procedures Reform Bill which sought to add sympathetic judges to the bench, his argument being the constitution not mandating than there must be nine judges on the bench, it was a matter for congress to determine the number.  He was apparently serious but may also have had in mind the threat in 1911 by the UK’s Liberal Party government to appoint to the House of Lords as many peers as would be necessary to ensure the upper house could no longer block their legislation.  That worked, the peers backing down and allowing the government’s reforms to pass into law, the feeling always that they were less appalled by creeping socialism than the thought of the House of Lords being flooded with “jumped-up grocers”.  It may also have worked in the US, the "court-packing plan" ultimately not required.  Some months after FDR’s landslide victory in the 1936 presidential election, Justice Owen Roberts (1875–1955; US Supreme Court judge 1930-1945) switched his vote, creating a pro-New Deal majority, an act remembered in judicial history as the "the switch in time that saved nine".

The US Supreme Court in session, 1932.  The photo is by Erich Salomon (1886-1944) and is one of two known images of the court in session.  Dr Salomon died in Auschwitz.

The idea of “packing the court” has been revived before but in 2021, congressional Democrats introduced a bill for an act which would expand the Supreme Court bench from nine to thirteen, essentially for the same reasons which attracted FDR in 1937.  Unlike then however, the Democrat control of both houses was marginal and there was no chance of success and even had there been an unexpectedly good result in the 2022 mid-term elections, nothing would have overcome the resistance of conservative Democrats in the senate.  With the Republican-appointed judges (reactionary medievalists or black-letter law judges depending on one’s view) likely to be in place for decades, the 2021 bill is more a shot across the judicial bow and the interplay between electoral outcomes and public opinion, of which the judges are well aware, will bubble and perhaps boil in the years ahead.

Lindsay Lohan on the panel of The Masked Singer (2019).

The Masked Singer Australia is a TV singing competition, the local franchise of a format which began in South Korea as the King of Mask Singer.  The premise is that elaborately costumed masked celebrities sing a song and a panel has to guess their identity.  In 2019, the producers afforced the judging panel with the appointment of Lindsay Lohan and the experiment seems to have been a success despite Ms Lohan having little or no idea who the local celebrities were, masked or otherwise.  That may have been part of the charm of her performance and it seemed to gel with viewers, the second series in 2020, in which Ms Lohan wasn’t able to participate because of COVID-19 quarantine restrictions, seeing a sharp decline in viewer numbers, the opening episode down 37% from 1.2 million to 733k.  Overall, the season average in the five mainland capital cities dropped to 816k from 928k, a year-on-year drop of 12%.  In October 2021, Warner Brothers TV announced a third series had been commissioned for broadcast in 2022 but Lindsay Lohan didn't again afforce the panel, depriving audiences of the chance to watch her try to guess the names of people she's never heard of.  #BringBackLindsay is expected to trend.

Peradventure

Peradventure (pronounced pur-uhd-ven-cher (U) or per-add-ven-chur (non-U)

(1) Chance, doubt or uncertainty (rare & archaic).

(2) Surmise (obsolete).

(3) It may be; perchance or maybe; possibly; perhaps (a definitely obsolete adverb).

1250–1300: From the Middle English peraventure, & per aventure, from Old French par aventure, the spelling in English modified in the seventeenth century to emulate Latin, providing a gloss of classical respectability.  The earliest form (circa 1300) was per aventure, paradventure adopted in the fourteenth and peradventure (sometimes in the old form as peraduenture) the final change.  Adventure evolved from the Middle English aventure, aunter & anter, from the Old French aventure, from the Late Latin adventurus, from the Latin advenire & adventum (to arrive), which in the Romance languages took the sense of "to happen, befall".  Aventure was from the Vulgar Latin adventura, from the Late Latin adventurus, from the Classical Latin adventus, the construct being adveniō (arrive) +‎ -tus (the action noun–forming suffix).  Peraventure is a noun & adverb, the noun plural is peradventures.

Peradventure in the sense of “chance, doubt or uncertainty” is both rare and archaic, a combination characterizing those words Henry Fowler (1858–1933) in his A Dictionary of Modern English Usage (1926) listed as archaisms, words he suggested were “…dangerous except in the hands of an experienced writer who can trust his sense of congruity”, adding that the use of archaisms was “…more likely to irritate the reader than to please…” and the word does seem to appear when people seek either (1) variety, (2) a flourish or (3) a display of their “pride of knowledge”, one of the many linguistic habits of Henry Fowler damned.  Peradventure means “chance, doubt or uncertainty” (the other meanings wholly obsolete) and is used in the forms “beyond peradventure” & “beyond a peradventure”, the more usual ways of expressing the sentiment including “beyond question” & “without doubt”. 

The reason it should be avoided in normal discourse is that unlike some deliberate archaisms, (such as “afforce” which is sufficiently close in construction and meaning to “reinforce”), there is nothing in the word which would allow a interlocutor to pick up the meaning.  That’s because the element “adventure” id derived from a linguistic fork which evolved into extinction, the aventure in the Old French per aventure coming from the adventura, a future form of the verb advenire (to happen (ie something which may occur).  However by the time it entered the Old French, variously it could mean destiny or fate, a chance event, an accident, fortune or luck and it was the sense of “a chance or uncertain event” that attached to the word when it was adopted in the Middle English.  That eventually produced peradventure but “adventure” also came to be used in English as an event with some risk of danger or loss, that sense persisting in law (In admiralty law, marine insurers use adventure in the technical sense of ”the period during which insured goods are at risk” and there’s the technical term “medical misadventure”, used when doctors murder their patients).  The sense thus shifted from “a chance event” to “a hazardous undertaking or audacious exploit to the modern form” (which still exists in law) before assuming the modern meaning: “a novel or exciting experience”.  Thus, it’s unlikely to occur to most that “peradventure” means what it does.

It can of course be used among word nerds and others where a pride of knowledge is something admired.  John Parker (1885–1958), the US alternate judge sitting on the International Military Tribunal trying the Nazi leadership (the first Nuremberg Trial (1945-1946)), used the phrase “…conspiracy has been proved beyond peradventure” when resisting the objection from the French judges that the charge of “criminal conspiracy” (Count One: Conspiracy to Wage Aggressive War) was not sustainable because it was unknown in international or continental law, too vague and a conspiracy is anyway absorbed by the crime one committed.  It was an interesting discussion which didn’t convince the French although, in the circumstances, they were inclined to compromise… a little.  The primary US judge, Francis Biddle (1886–1968), noted on hearing “peradventure” that Judge Parker “liked such old-fashioned phrases, which, when he used them, sounded like the crack of a long whip, tearing other arguments to shreds”.  He might have added Parker came from the North Carolina bar, where old-fashioned phrases are perhaps more often heard.

It does also enjoy that ultimate imprimatur of authenticity, as an adverb appearing seventeen times in the plays of William Shakespeare (1564–1616), two examples being:

Henry V, Act IV, Scene I.

Some, peradventure, have on them the guilt of peradventure premeditated and contriued Murther; some, of beguiling Virgins with the broken Seales of Periurie; some, making the Warres their Bulwarke, that haue before gored the gentle Bosome of Peace with Pillage and Robberie.

Coriolanus Act II, Scene I.

…peraduenture some of the best of 'em were hereditarie hangmen.  Godden to your Worships, more of your conuersation would infect my Braine, being the Heardsmen of the Beastly Plebeans.  I will be bold to take my leaue of you.

Trend of use of peradventure, tracked by the Collins English Dictionary.

The trend however, the odd eighteenth century spike notwithstanding, is down, one of the few supporting gestures in recent years (2015) by UK Labor MP Harriet Harman (b 1950) and such was the reaction from friend and foe that, beyond peradventure, she’s unlikely to use it again.

Doughnut

Doughnut (pronounced doh-nuht)

(1) A deep-fried piece of dough or batter, usually mixed with various sweeteners and flavors, often made in a toroidal or ellipsoidal shape flattened sphere shape filled with jelly/jam, custard or cream and sometimes glazed.

(2) In engineering, a variety of objects using this shape ranging from transmission connectors to the reaction vessel of a thermonuclear reactor.

(3) In physics, a toroidal vacuum chamber.

(4) As a descriptor, anything in the shape of a torus (thick ring); an annular object; a toroid.

(5) In (informal) parliamentary jargon, to surround a speaker with other members during the filming of a speech to create the illusion the chamber is crowded and people are interested in what he is saying.

(6) In slang, the vulva and (by extension) a woman's virginity, a derived form being the “doughnut bumper” (a lesbian).

(7) In UK colloquial use, a foolish or stupid person (based on the idea of “nut” being used as slang for the head, filled with dough (a soft, inert substance); Now rare except as a regionalism although the companion “a bit doughy” (ie "a bit dense") endures.

(8) In admiralty slang, a circular life raft. 

(9) In the slang of musicians, a whole note.

(10) In automotive use, a "peel-out" or skid mark in the shape of a circle; a 360-degree skid created with deliberately excessive wheelspin, also associated with the "burn out".  The term is most used in the US, Canada, New Zealand and Australia and in the latter it's most associated with (though not restricted to) "bogan culture".  Behavioral zoologists have noted the striking similarity between the tyre marks left on the road and the way some animals urinate to "mark their territory" but this may be drawing a long anthropological bow.

(11) In automotive use, a spare car tyre, smaller than a full-sized tyre and intended only for temporary use.

(12) In aviation, a type of tyre for an airplane with a rounded tread profile and a high sidewall which interacts (as a shock absorber) with the landing gear's hydraulics.

(13) In rehabilitative medicine. a toroidal cushion typically used by hemorrhoid  (piles) patients.  

(14) In hair styling, a shaper around which hair tightly can be bound.

(15) In vulgar slang, the vulva; by extension, a woman's virginity. 

(16) In the vulgar slang of the male gay community, a "puffy" anus with the outward shape of a donut (though it can be applied generally to any anus); the companion term is "donut hole".

1809: The construct was dough + nut.  Dough was from the Middle English dow, dogh & dagh, from the Old English dāg, from the Proto-Germanic daigaz (dough), from the primitive Indo-European dheygh (to knead, form, mold).  It was cognate with the Scots daich, dauch & doach (dough), the West Frisian daai (dough), the Dutch deeg (dough), the Low German Deeg (dough), the German Teig (dough), the Norwegian Bokmål deig (dough), the Danish dej (dough), the Swedish deg (dough) and the Icelandic deig (dough).  Nut was from the Middle English nute & note, from the Old English hnutu, from the Proto-West Germanic hnut, from the Proto-Germanic hnuts (nut) (the form may be compared with the West Frisian nút, the Dutch noot, the German Nuss, the Danish nød, the Swedish nöt and the Norwegian nøtt), from the root knu-, seen also in the Proto-Celtic knūs (source of Irish cnó) and the Latin nux (nut).  There are etymologists who, noting the form of the nouns and the restriction of the root to Germanic, Celtic and Italic, argue it may be of non-Indo-European origin.  The adoption to mean “fastening device for a bolt” is conventionally traced to the Old English hnutu (hard-shelled fruit with a seed inside (acorn, chestnut etc), based upon (1) the appearance and (2) an analogy between the hard outer shell of a nut and the protective function of the metal nut in securing a bolt (ie a nut, like its botanical counterpart, encases and protects something (in this case, the threaded end of a bolt).  The use has been documented since the early-fifteenth century and has been used in mechanical and engineering contexts since.  Doughnut is a noun & verb and doughnutting & doughnutted are verbs; the noun plural is doughnuts.

Etymologists note the spelling “donut” was not unknown in the first half of the twentieth century but was rare.  The event which seemed to have triggered the widespread adoption was the “quick service” restaurant Open Kettle (founded in Boston, Massachusetts in 1948) in 1950 changing its name to Dunkin' Donuts and, as a franchise operation, Dunkin' Donuts spread nationwide so along with the classic FSS (fat, salt & sugar) product came linguistic change, an example of the haphazard way English evolves.  Curiously, although Dunkin' Donuts Australia sites were by 2009 shuttered (after a two-decade run), the linguistic legacy endures and “donut” & “doughnut” peacefully co-exist whereas in the dozen-odd other countries where Dunkin' Donuts retains a presence, the latter is said to remain the mainstream spelling.

In all markets, Krispy Kreme continues to use “doughnut”, the company founded in North Carolina in 1937 at a time when the spelling was (almost) uncontested.  The first known evidence of the word “doughnut” appearing in print was in 1809 in Washington Irving’s (1783–1859) Knickerbocker’s History of New York and to refer to fried dough balls (ie literally “nuts of dough”) as “doughnuts” was etymologically and descriptively sound because, being then usually round with no hole and often stuffed with nuts or fruit preserves, the allusion was to nuts in the sense of the edible kernels from plants, not the fastener used with a bolt.  The brand-name Dunkin’ Donuts reflects the trend in mid-twentieth US commerce to simplify spellings (in the spirit of the sensible American rationalizations such as catalog vs catalogue, color vs colour etc) to make them “catchier” as well as obviously “modern” (nite vs night, thru vs through etc).  Being shorter, “donut” worked better on logos and signage and was very much part of the post-war zeitgeist of speed, efficiency & convenience.  Krispy Kreme never shifted their branding because the traditional spelling was thought to impart a sense of “authenticity and heritage” which tied in with the deliberately old-fashioned themes used in the stores fit-out; nostalgia as a commodity.  Most major prescriptive dictionaries continue to “doughnut” as the primary spelling, with “donut” as a variant, the popularity of the latter noted as a linguistic phenomenon in North America, Australia and on-line.

Box of Krispy Kreme doughnuts.

What Washington Irving mentioned in 1809 (the “small, spongy cake made of dough and fried in lard”) was probably best described as “a lump” because there seems to be no suggestion the size and exact shape of the things were in any way standardized beyond being vaguely roundish.  It’s not clear when the holes became common, the first mention of them apparently in 1861 at which time one writer recorded that in New York City (the old New Amsterdam) they were known also as olycokes (from the Dutch oliekoek (oily cake) and some food guides of the era listed doughnuts and crullers as “types of olycoke”.  The spelling donut was typical of the sensible and pragmatic simplification of spelling in US English and emerged in the mid nineteenth century; the form donnut did not last, the duplicated “n” obviously redundant.  In engineering, the word is widely applied including (1) the reaction vessel of a thermonuclear reactor, (2) a circular life raft, (3) A toroidal vacuum chamber (used in experimental physics), (4) a circular life raft, (5) certain types of aircraft tyres, (6) a spare car tyre smaller than a full-sized tyre and intended only for temporary use.  In idiomatic use, the phrase “bet you a dollar to a donut” fell victim to inflation.  Dating from a time when a donut typically cost a dime (5 cents), it thus implied odds of 20-1 and was part of a rich linguistic tradition which included memorable constructions such as "monkey to a mousetrap" (500-1).  As used to describe the behaviour in which a car is driven at low speed in circles with the drive wheels spinning, thus leaving a circular track of rubber on the road, the “donut” was first used circa 1981 in the US and it was picked up around the world by males aged 17-25, the donut specialists.

The great Krispy Kreme doughnut heist.

In November 2023, in Sydney, Australia, a Krispy Kreme delivery van loaded with 10,000 freshly fried doughuts was stolen from a 7/11 petrol (gas) station; police established a crime scene and launched an investigation into the incident and some two weeks later a 28 year old woman was charged with stealing after the Krispy Kreme van was found abandoned at a nearby car-park in Parramatta.  The donuts were “destroyed”, according to a police spokesman and the authorities later confirmed the suspect would be charged with "taking a driving conveyance without the consent of the owner, driving a motor vehicle during a disqualification period and travelling or attempting to travel without a valid ticket."  The woman was refused bail, presumably because the police forces anywhere would regard a threat to the national doughnut supply as a serious offence.

World War I Salvation Army doughnut girl poster.

The dough-boy was something which existed as early as the 1680s but it was something more like a pancake than a donut and doughboys were widely known; because the distinctive buttons on the uniforms worn by soldiers of the American expeditionary forces sent to Europe in 1971 to afforce the Allies in World War I (1914-1918) were the same shape, the soldiers were nicknamed “doughboys”.  Doughnuts were supplied to troops during World War I by a Christian organization, the Salvation Army (which uses military ranks but isn't really a paramilitary formation except in the sense of the later term "moral rearmament") which recruited some 250 woman volunteers who settled on the fried items because they could be prepared quickly and cheaply with minimal equipment and required only ingredients which were readily available through most military supply depots.  The doughnuts were originally quite small but, responding to suggestions, the women had a blacksmith fashion a mold for the now now-iconic circular shape with a hole in the centre.

World War I doughnut girl (left) and World War II (right) donut dolly.  It was during the later conflict the term "donut dolly" supplanted "doughnut girl", presumably because of the alliterative appeal.  Airline stewardesses (flight attendants) were (in less enlightened times) sometimes called "trolley dollies", the phonetic attraction there the rhyme although alliteration clearly appealed to the (always male) pilots of the era who preferred "flying fucks".  

Production at scale soon followed and they were distributed also to civilians; it was at this point, for better and worse, that French society hungrily adopted the doughnut.  During World War II (1939-1945), the system was formalized with the Red Cross taking over the operation and although it was never an official term, the women were known popularly as “donut dollies”, recruited on the basis of (1) being aged 25-35, (2) having a high school diploma, (3) appropriate work experience, (4) good reference letters and (5) “healthy, physically hardy, sociable and attractive”.  By the time of the D-Day landings in Normandy (6 June 1944), the Red Cross had some 100 British Army buses operating with fully-equipped kitchens, the donut-machines provided by the American Donut Company.  The donuts were served with coffee and the donut dollies were able to supply also those staples of army life: chewing gum and cigarettes.

Rotoflex doughnuts

Totoflex "Doughnut" coupling.

Rotoflex couplings were often used in the 1960s to connect differential output shafts to the rear hubs.  Usually called “rubber doughnut”, they were popular in road cars such as the Triumph GT6 and racing machinery as varied as the Ford GT40 and Lotus 21 because, prior to the availability of suitable constant velocity (CV) joints, there was really no better alternative.  Although subject to wear, usually they worked well but Lotus also used them on the Elan, the rear suspension of which was exceptionally supple rear, providing for significant vertical wheel travel which resulted on the deformation of Rotoflex doughnuts, the phenomenon known as a “wind up”.  While readily detectable by experienced drivers who learned to adjust their clutching technique, it could be disconcerting to those unused to the Elan’s quirks.

Doughnut installed: rear suspension of 1972 Lotus Elan Sprint.

In recent years, some of the replacement doughnuts manufactured in the Far East have been of sometimes dubious quality so except for those dedicated to maintaining originality, many Elans have been converted to use half-shafts built with CV joints.  When in 1971 the Elan was updated with a more powerful engine, the company did experiment with other methods but it was clear the elasticity of the doughnuts was integral to the design and without them the famously precise handling characteristics suffered.  Now however, although expensive, more rigid Rotoflex doughnuts are available which preserve the precision although at the cost of adding an occasional harshness to the Elan’s exceptionally smooth ride.

Crab Doughnuts: Chiltern Firehouse, London

Chiltern Firehouse Crab Doughnuts Recipe

Ingredients (doughnuts)

540g strong white flour (plus extra to dust)
70g caster sugar
2 tsp Maldon sea salt (plus 1 tbsp to dust)
1 tsp instant yeast
140ml water (room temperature)
4 large free range eggs
Grated zest of 3 un-waxed lemons
130g unsalted butter (thinly sliced and chilled)
500ml sunflower oil (for deep frying, plus extra for greasing)
3 tbsp icing sugar (to dust)
1 tbsp ground cinnamon (to dust)

Ingredients (tomato juice)

10 beef tomatoes (or whatever is the largest variety available)
2 cloves garlic (green germ removed and cloves chopped)
1 shallot (chopped)
¼ red chilli (de-seeded and chopped)
1 tbsp sherry vinegar
1 tbsp fish sauce
Maldon sea salt (to taste)

Ingredients (crab filling)

200g picked white crab meat (from the claws)
2 tbsp tomato juice
2 tbsp crème fraiche
1 tbsp basil leaves (thinly sliced)
2½ tsp freshly squeezed lemon juice
Maldon sea salt (to taste)

Instructions (doughnuts)

(1) Place flour, sugar, salt and yeast in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with dough hook attachment and mix at slow speed. In separate bowl, combine water, eggs and lemon zest.

(2) Slowly add liquid mixture to flour mixture (with mixer at slow speed) until it forms a dough. Increase the speed and knead for 10-12 minutes, until the dough comes away from sides of bowl and is smooth and elastic.

(3) Reduce speed to slow and add butter, a slice at a time. Once all butter has been incorporated, increase speed, kneading for a further 5-6 minutes (until sough is smooth).

(4) Cover bowl with clingfilm and place it in the fridge for at least 6 hours or overnight, allowing dough to rest and prove slowly. Next day, oil a baking sheet. Roll dough to a 2cm (¾ inch) thickness on a lightly floured work surface and cut out 80 x 30 mm (3 x 1 ¼ inch) circles. Roll each circle into a ball, placing them on oiled baking sheet. Cover and leave to prove for about 2-3 hours.

(5) Fill a deep saucepan or deep-fat fryer with the sunflower oil (it should be about half-full) and place over a medium heat until it reaches 175˚C. (350˚C).  Deep-fry doughnuts, four at a time, for 2-3 minutes, basting them constantly with the oil until golden brown.  To drain, transfer to a plate lined with kitchen paper.

Instructions (tomato juice)

Cut tomatoes in half and squeeze out seeds. Grate the flesh of the tomatoes on the side of a box grater over a bowl. Place grated tomato flesh in the bowl of a food processor with the remaining ingredients and blend until smooth. Transfer the mixture to a muslin cloth and hang cloth over a bowl for 2 hours.

Instructions (crab filling)

Combine all ingredients in a bowl and mix well. Cover and chill until ready to assemble.

Instructions (final assembly)

Cut each doughnut in half and fill it with the chilled crab mixture. Mix the icing sugar in a bowl with the cinnamon and salt, dusting doughnuts with the mix. Serve immediately.  Left-over dough can be cut into 50-60 mm (2-2½ inch) circles and deep-fried until golden brown, then coated in sugar.  They make a quick and indulgent treat.

Parliamentary doughnutting

An improbable Cassandra:  Eric Abetz (b 1958, senator (Liberal Party) for Tasmania) 1994-2022) in the Australian Senate, Monday 26 November 2017, delivering an important speech opposing same-sex marriage, surrounded by his supporters.  This is an example of how "parliamentary doughnutting" would have created a good photo-opportunity.  The tactic is to assemble enough members to create the impression that what is being said (1) matters, (2) is interesting and (3) has some support.

Enthrone

Enthrone (pronounced en-throhn)

(1) To put on the throne in a formal installation ceremony (sometimes called an enthronement) which variously could be synonymous with (or simultaneously performed with) a coronation or other ceremonies of investiture.

(2) Figuratively in this context, to help a candidate to the succession of a monarchy or by extension in any other major organisation (ie the role of “kingmakers”, literal and otherwise).

(3) To invest with sovereign or episcopal authority (ie a legal instrument separate from any ceremony).

(4) To honour or exalt (now rare except in literary or poetic use).

(5) Figuratively, to assign authority to or vest authority in.

Circa 1600: The construct was en- + throne and the original meaning was “to place on a throne, exalt to the seat of royalty”.  For this purpose it replaced the late fourteenth century enthronize, from the thirteenth century Old French introniser, from the Late Latin inthronizare, from Greek the enthronizein.  In the late fourteenth century the verb throne (directly from the noun) was used in the same sense.  Throne (the chair or seat occupied by a sovereign, bishop or other exalted personage on ceremonial occasions) dates from the late twelfth century and was from the Middle English trone, from the Old French trone, from the Latin thronus, from the Ancient Greek θρόνος (thrónos) (chair, high-set seat, throne).  It replaced the earlier Middle English seld (seat, throne).  In facetious use, as early as the 1920s, throne could mean “a toilet” (used usually in the phrase “on the throne”) and in theology had the special use (in the plural and capitalized) describing the third (a member of an order of angels ranked above dominions and below cherubim) of the nine orders into which the angels traditionally were divided in medieval angelology.  The en- prefix was from the Middle English en- (en-, in-), from the Old French en- (also an-), from the Latin in- (in, into).  It was also an alteration of in-, from the Middle English in-, from the Old English in- (in, into), from the Proto-Germanic in (in).  Both the Latin & Germanic forms were from the primitive Indo-European en (in, into).  The intensive use of the Old French en- & an- was due to confluence with Frankish intensive prefix an- which was related to the Old English intensive prefix -on.  It formed a transitive verb whose meaning is to make the attached adjective (1) in, into, (2) on, onto or (3) covered.  It was used also to denote “caused” or as an intensifier.  The prefix em- was (and still is) used before certain consonants, notably the labials b and p.  Enthrone, dethrone, enthronest & enthronize are verbs, enthronementm, enthronization & enthroner are nouns, enthroning is a noun & verb, enthroned is a verb & adjective; the noun plural is enthronements.  The noun enthronable is non-standard.  The derived forms include the verb unenthrone, reenthrone & disenthrone and although there have been many enthroners, the form enthronee has never existed.

Alhaji Ibrahim Wogorie (b 1967) being enskinned as North Sisala community chief, Ghana, July 2023.

In colonial-era West Africa the coined forms were “enskin” (thus enskinment, enskinning, enskinned) and “enstool” (thus enstoolment, enstooling, enstooled).  These words were used to refer to the ceremonies in which a tribal chief was installed in his role; the meanings thus essentially the same as enjoyed in the West by “enthrone”.  The constructs reflected a mix of indigenous political culture and English morphological adaptation during the colonial period, the elements explained by (1) the animal skins (the distinctive cheetah often mentioned in the reports of contemporary anthropologists although in some Islamic and Sahelian-influenced chieftaincies (including the Dagomba, Mamprusi, Hausa emirates), a cow or lion skin often was the symbol of authority) which often surrounded the new chief and (2) the tradition in Africa of a chief sitting on a stool.  Sometimes, the unfortunate animal’s skin would be laid over the stool (and almost always, one seems to have been laid at the chief’s feet) but in some traditions (notably in northern Ghana and parts of Nigeria) it was a mark of honor for the chief to sit on a skin spread on the ground.

Dr Mahamudu Bawumia (b 1963), enstooled as Nana Ntentankesehene (Chief of the Internet/Web), Ghana, August 2024.  Note the cheetah skin used to trim the chair.

The stool was the central symbol of chieftaincy and kingship among Akan-speaking peoples (still in present-day Ghana where “to enskin” is used generally to mean “to install as a leader of a group” and the constitution (1992) explicitly protects the institution of chieftaincy and judicial decisions routinely use “enstool” or “enskin” (depending on region)).  In Akan political culture, the most famous use was the Sika Dwa Kofi (the Golden Stool) of the Asante and it represented the embodiment of the polity and ancestors, not merely a seat (used rather like the synecdoches “the Pentagon” (for the US Department of Defense (which appears now to be headed by a cabinet office who simultaneously is both Secretary of Defense & Secretary of War)) or “Downing Street” (for the UK prime-minister or the government generally).  Thus, to be “enstooled” is ritually to be placed into office as chief, inheriting the authority vested in the stool.  Enskin & enstool (both of which seem first to have appeared in the records of the Colonial Office in the 1880s and thus were products of the consolidation of British indirect rule in West Africa, rather than being survivals from earlier missionary English which also coined its own terms) were examples of semantic calquing (the English vocabulary reshaped to encode indigenous concepts) and, as it was under the Raj in India, it was practical administrative pragmatism, colonial officials needing precise (and standardized) terms that distinguished between different systems of authority.  In truth, they were also often part of classic colonial “fixes” in which the British would take existing ceremonies and add layers of ritual to afforce the idea of a chief as “their ruler” and within a couple of generations, sometimes the local population would talk of the newly elaborate ceremony as something dating back centuries; the “fix” was a form of constructed double-legitimization.

A classic colonial fix was the Bose Levu Vakaturaga (Great Council of Chiefs) in Fiji which the British administrators created in 1878.  While it's true that prior to European contact, there had been meetings between turaga (tribal chiefs) to settle disputes and for other purposes, all the evidence suggests they were ad-hoc appointments with little of the formality, pomp and circumstance the British introduced.  Still, it was a successful institution which the chiefs embraced, apparently with some enthusiasm because the cloaks and other accoutrements they adopted for the occasion became increasingly elaborate and it was a generally harmonious form of indigenous governance which enabled the British to conduct matters of administration and policy-making almost exclusively through the chiefs.  The council survived even after Fiji gained independence from Britain in 1970 until it was in 2012 abolished by the military government of Commodore Frank Bainimarama (b 1954; prime minister of Fiji 2007-2022), as part of reform programme said to be an attempt to reduce ethnic divisions and promote a unified national identity.  The commodore's political future would be more assured had he learned lessons from the Raj.

There was of course an element of racial hierarchy in all this and “enskin” & “enstool” denoted a “tribal chief” under British rule whereas “enthrone” might have been thought to imply some form of sovereignty because that was the linkage in Europe and that would never do.  What the colonial authorities wanted was to maintain the idea of “the stool” as a corporate symbol, the office the repository of the authority, not the individual.  The danger with using a term like “enthronement” was the population might be infected by the European notion of monarchy as a hereditary kingship with personal sovereignty; what the Europeans wanted was “a stool” and they would decide who would be enstooled, destooled or restooled. 

Prince Mangosuthu Buthelezi, Moses Mabhida Stadium, Durban, South Africa, October 2022.

English words and their connotations did continue to matter in the post-colonial world because although the colonizers might have departed, often the legacy of language remained, sometimes as an “official” language of government and administration.  In the 1990s, the office of South Africa’s Prince Mangosuthu Buthelezi (1928–2023) sent a series of letters to the world’s media outlets advising he should be styled as “Prince” and not “Chief”, on the basis of being the grandson of one Zulu king and the nephew of another.  The Zulus were once described as a “tribe” and while that reflected the use in ethnography, the appeal in the West was really that it represented a rung on the racist hierarchy of civilization, the preferred model being: white people have nations or states, Africans cluster in tribes or clans.  The colonial administrators recognized these groups had leaders and typically they used the style “chief” (from the Middle English cheef & chef, from the Old French chef & chief (leader), from the Vulgar Latin capus, from the Classical Latin caput (head), from the Proto-Italic kaput, from the primitive Indo-European káput).  As the colonial records make clear, there were “good” chiefs and “troublesome” chiefs, thus the need sometimes to arrange a replacement enstooling.

Unlike in the West where styles of address and orders of precedence were codified (indeed, somewhat fetishized), the traditions in Africa seem to have been more fluid and Mangosuthu Buthelezi didn’t rely on statute or even documented convention when requesting the change.  Instead, he explained “prince” reflected his Zulu royal lineage not only was appropriate (he may have cast an envious eye at the many Nigerian princes) but was also commonly used as his style by South African media, some organs or government and certainly his own Zulu-based political party (IQembu leNkatha yeNkululeko (the IPF; Inkatha Freedom Party).  He had in 1953 assumed the Inkosi (chieftainship) of the Buthelezi clan, something officially recognized four year laters by Pretoria although not until the early 1980s (when it was thought he might be useful as a wedge to drive into the ANC (African National Congress) does the Apartheid-era government seem to have started referring to him as “prince”).  Despite that cynical semi-concession, there was never a formal re-designation.

Enthroned & installed: Lindsay Lohan in acrylic & rhinestone tiara during “prom queen scene” in Mean Girls (2004).

In the matter of prom queens and such, it’s correct to say there has been “an enthronement” because even in the absence of a physical throne (in the sense of “a chair”), the accession is marked by the announcement and the placing of the crown or tiara.  This differs from something like the “enthroning” of a king or queen in the UK because, constitutionally, there is no interregnum, the new assuming the title as the old took their last breath and “enthronement” is a term reserved casually to apply to the coronation.  Since the early twentieth century, the palace and government have contrived to make an elaborate “made for television” ceremony although it has constitutional significance beyond the rituals related to the sovereign’s role as Supreme Governor of the Church of England.

Dame Sarah Mullally in the regalia of Bishop of London; in January 2026, she will take office as Archbishop of Canterbury, the formal installation in March.  No longer one of the world's more desirable jobs (essentially because it can't be done), all wish her the best of British luck.

In October 2025, the matter of enthronement (or, more correctly, non-enthronement) in the Church of England made a brief splash in some of the less explored corners of social media after it was announced the ceremony marking the accession of the next Archbishop of Canterbury would be conducted in Canterbury Cathedral in March 2026.  The announcement was unexceptional in that it was expected and for centuries Archbishops of Canterbury have come and gone (although the last one was declared gone rather sooner than expected) but what attracted some comment was the new appointee was to be “installed” rather than the once traditional “enthroned”.  The conclusion some drew was this apparent relegation was related to the next archbishop being Dame Sarah Mullally (née Bowser; b 1962) the first woman to hold the once desirable job, the previous 105 prelates having been men, the first, Saint Augustine of Canterbury (circa 630s-circa 604) in 597 (not to be confused with the still influential Saint Augustine of Hippo (354–430)).

Despite the suspicions the event was being in some way "devalued" because a woman got the job, there is in the church no substantive legal or theological significance in the use of “installed” rather than “enthroned” and the choice reflects modern ecclesiastical practice rather than having any doctrinal or canonical effect.  A person become Archbishop of Canterbury through a sequence of juridical acts and these constitute the decisive legal instruments; ceremonial rites have a symbolic value but nothing more, the power of the office vested from the point at which the legal mechanisms have correctly been executed (in that, things align with the procedures used for the nation’s monarchs).  So the difference is one of tone rather than substance and the “modern” church has for decades sought to distance itself from perceptions it may harbor quasi-regal aspirations or the perpetuation of clerical grandeur and separateness; at least from Lambeth Palace, the preferred model long has been pastoral; most Church of England bishops have for some times been “installed” in their cathedrals (despite “enthronement” surviving in some press reports, a product likely either of nostalgia or “cut & paste journalism”).  That said, some Anglican provinces outside England still “enthrone” (apparently on the basis “it’s always been done that way” rather than the making of a theological or secular point”).

Lambeth Palace, the Archbishop of Canterbury's official London residence.

Interestingly, Archbishops of York (“the church in the north”) continued to enjoy ceremonies of enthronement even after those those at Canterbury underwent installations.  Under canon law, the wording literally makes no difference and historians have concluded the retention of the older form is clung to for no reason other than “product differentiation”, York Minster often emphasizing their continuity with medieval ceremonial forms; it’s thus a mere cultural artefact, the two ceremonies performing the same liturgical action: seating the archbishop in the cathedra (the chair (throne) of the archbishop.  Because it’s the Archbishop of Canterbury and not York who sits as the “spiritual head of the worldwide Anglican community”, in York there’s probably no lingering sensitivity to criticism of continuing with “Romish ways”.  It's not that northern noses are less troubled by the “whiff of popery”, it just that few now care.

In an indication of how little the wording matters, it’s not clear who was the last Archbishop of Canterbury who could be said to have been “enthroned” because there was never any differentiation of form in the ceremonies and the documents suggest the terms were used casually and even interchangeably.  What can be said is that Geoffrey Fisher (1887–1972; AoC-99: 1945-1961) was installed at a ceremony widely described (in the official programme, ecclesiastical commentaries and other church & secular publications) as an “enthronement” and that was the term used in the government Gazette; that’s as official an endorsement of the term as seems possible because, being an established church, bishops are appointed by the Crown on the advice of the prime minister although the procedure has at least since 2007 been a “legal fiction” because the church’s CNC (Crown Nominations Commission) sends the names to the prime minister who acts as a “postbox”, forwarding them to the palace for the issuing of letters patent confirming the appointment.  When Michael Ramsey (1904–1988; AoC-100: 1961-1974), was appointed, although the term “enthrone” did appear in press reports, the church’s documents almost wholly seem to have used “install” and since then, in Canterbury, it’s been installations all the way.

Pope Pius XII in triple tiara at his coronation, The Vatican, March, 1939.

So, by the early 1960s the church was responding, if cautiously, to the growing anti-monarchical sentiment in post-war ecclesiology although this does seem to have been a sentiment of greater moment to intellectuals and theologians than parishioners.  About these matters there was however a kind of ecumenical sensitivity emerging and the conciliar theology later was crystallised (if not exactly codified) in the papers of Second Vatican Council (Vatican II, 1962-1965, published 1970).  The comparison with the practice in Rome is interesting because there are more similarities than differences although that is obscured by words like “enthronement” and “coronation” being seemingly embedded in the popular (and journalistic) imagination. That’s perhaps understandable because for two millennia as many as 275 popes (officially the count is 267 but it’s not certain how many there have been because there have been “anti-popes” and allegedly even one woman (although that’s now largely discounted)) have sat “on the throne of Saint Peter” (retrospectively the first pope) so the tradition is long.  In Roman Catholic canon law, “enthronement” is not a juridical term; the universal term is capio sedem (taking possession of the cathedral (ie “installation”)) and, as in England, an appointment is formalized once the legal instruments are complete, the subsequent ceremony, while an important part of the institution’s mystique, exists for the same reason as it does for the Church of England or the House of Windsor: it’s the circuses part of panem et circenses (bread and circuses).  Unlike popes who once had coronations, archbishops of Canterbury never did because they made no claim to temporal sovereignty.

Pope Paul VI in triple tiara at his coronation, The Vatican, June. 1963.  It was the last papal coronation.

So, technically, modern popes are “installed as Bishop of Rome” and in recent decades the Holy See has adjusted the use of accoutrements to dispel any implication of an “enthronement”, the last papal coronation at which a pope was crowned with the triple tiara was that of Paul VI (1897-1978; pope 1963-1978) but in “an act of humility” he removed it, placing it on the on the alter where (figuratively), it has since sat.  Actually, Paul VI setting aside the triple tiara as a symbolic renunciation of temporal and monarchical authority was a bit overdue because the Papal States had been lost to the Holy See with the unification of Italy in 1870 though the Church refused to acknowledge that reality; in protest, no pope for decades set foot outside the Vatican.  However, in the form of the Lateran Treaty (1929), the Holy See entered into a concordat with the Italian state whereby the (1) the Vatican was recognized as a sovereign state and (2) the church was recognized as Italy’s state religion in exchange for which the territorial and political reality was recognized.  Despite that, until 1963 the triple tiara (one tier of which was said to symbolize the pope’s temporal authority over the papal states) appeared in the coronations of Pius XII (1876-1958; pope 1939-1958), John XXIII (1881-1963; pope 1958-1963) and Paul VI (who didn’t formally abolish the rite of papal coronation from the Ordo Rituum pro Ministerii Petrini Initio Romae Episcopi (Order of Rites for the Beginning of the Petrine Ministry of the Bishop of Rome (the liturgical book detailing the ceremonies for a pope's installation)) until 1975.

The Chair of St Augustine.  In church circles, archbishops of Canterbury are sometimes said to "occupy the Chair of St Augustine".

The Chair of St Augustine sits in Canterbury Cathedral but technically, an AoC is “twice installed”: once on the Diocesan throne as the Bishop of the see of Canterbury and also on the Chair of St Augustine as Primate of All England (the nation's first bishop) and spiritual leader of the worldwide Anglican Communion. So, there’s nothing unusual in Sarah Mullally being “installed” rather than “enthroned” as would have been the universal terminology between the reformation and the early twentieth century.  Linguistically, legally and theologically, the choice of words is a non-event and anyone who wishes to describe Dame Sarah as “enthroned” may do so without fear of condemnation, excommunication or a burning at the stake.  What is most likely is that of those few who notice, fewer still are likely to care.