Concur

Concur (pronounced kuhn-kur)

(1) To accord in opinion; to agree.

(2) To cooperate; work together; combine; be associated.

(3) To coincide; occur at the same time.

(4) To run or come together; converge (obsolete).

1375–1425: From the late Middle English concur (collide, clash in hostility), from the Latin concurrere (to run together, assemble hurriedly; clash, fight), in transferred use “to happen at the same time", the construct being con (the Latin prefix variation of cum (with; together)) + currere (to run).  The early meaning in English was "collide, clash in hostility," the sense of "to happen at the same time" didn’t emerge until the 1590s; that of "to agree in opinion" a decade earlier.  Ultimate root was the Proto-Italic korzō, derived from the primitive Indo-European ḱers (to run).  Related forms are the adverb concurringly and the adjectives concurring and concurrent.  Despite the rarity, the verbs preconcur, preconcurred & preconcurring, and the adjectives unconcurred & unconcurring are said to exist, at least to the extent no dictionary appears yet to have declared them obsolete or archaic.  The adjective concurrent is noted from the late fourteenth century though concurring is said (surprisingly) not to have been in use until the 1630s.  The first concurring opinion was recorded in 1720.  The sense "to coincide, happen at the same time" is from 1590s; that of "to agree in opinion" dates in English from the 1580s

In praise of the Privy Council

Concurrent is probably the most common adjectival form in general use.  Noted since the late 1300s, in the sense of “acting in conjunction, contributing to the same effect or event", it was from the Old French concurrent or directly from Latin concurrentem (nominative concurrens), present participle of concurrere.  The meaning "combined, joint" is from 1530s and in law, concurrent jurisdiction (that possessed equally by two courts and if exercised by one not usually assumed by the other) is recorded from 1767.

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

Concur is one of many synonyms for “agree” and the one most favoured by judges on appellant courts to indicate they agree with (or at least acquiesce to) a judgment written by another.  That’s good because it means there’s less to have to read.  However, some judges prefer to pen their own judgments, helpful perhaps if they wish to explore some aspect of the case not elsewhere mentioned but otherwise a duplication of effort unless their prose serves to render readable what can be turgid stuff.  Then there are the dissenting judgments, of interest to academic lawyers and historians and sometimes a source of hope to those entertaining thoughts of an appeal.  That notwithstanding, those wishing just to know the state of law with certainty might long for a system in which appellate courts of appeal issued only the majority judgment with the dissenters encouraged to submit essays or letters to the editors of legal journals.

Etching of a sitting of a Judicial Committee of the Privy Council (1846).

That only one judgment was issued was the most appealing procedural aspect of the Privy Council, until 1968 and 1986 respectively, the highest court of appeal for Australian state and Commonwealth jurisdictions.  Properly styled The Judicial Committee of the Privy Council (JCPC), the Privy Council remains the ultimate court of appeal for some British Overseas Territories and Commonwealth countries.  Although the Privy Council’s decisions are mostly not binding on the UK’s domestic courts, the rulings are held to be extremely persuasive as other respected tribunals (US Supreme Court, Supreme Court of Canada etc) are regarded.  One quirk of the Australian Constitution is that, the 1986 Australia Acts notwithstanding, the High Court can issue a certificate referring certain cases to the council but none has been granted for a century and the court has long made clear there’ll be no more.  As a bit of a relic of English constitutional history and the established church, in the United Kingdom, the Privy Council retains appellant jurisdiction some domestic matters:

(1) Appeals from the Arches Court of Canterbury and the Chancery Court of York in non-doctrinal faculty causes.

(2) Appeals from the High Court of Chivalry.

(3) Appeals from the Court of Admiralty of the Cinque Ports and Admiralty prize courts.

(4) Appeals from the Disciplinary Committee of the Royal College of Veterinary Surgeons.

(5) Disputes under the House of Commons Disqualification Act, a role essentially similar to that the High Court of Australia (HCA) discharges as the Commonwealth’s Court of Disputed Returns.

Historically, the Privy Council dealt with cases thus referred without any known demand for multiple judgments or dissenting opinions; a fine example of judicial clarity and efficiency and one which judges in other courts never to admire, much less emulate.  Despite its exalted place in the legal hierarchy, the council has been a surprisingly flexible and informal court.  In 1949, it found, on technical grounds, the Commonwealth of Australia’s appeal in the bank nationalization case (Commonwealth of Australia v Bank of NSW [1949] UKPC 37, [1950] AC 235; [1949] UKPCHCA 1, (1949) 79 CLR 497 (26 October 1949)) couldn’t proceed but, because so many people had travelled over ten-thousand miles (17,000 km) to London (no small thing in 1949), it anyway heard the case and issued what would have been the substantive judgment.  If ever it’d been prepared to set the example of providing advisory opinions, the Privy Council would have been the best appellant court ever.  Unfortunately, In recent years, dissenting opinions have come to be issued.

Sitting of the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council, 18 June 1946.

M.R Jayaker, Lord Du Parcq, Lord Goddard (Lord Chief Justice), Lord Simonds, Lord Macmillan, Lord Simon, The Lord Chancellor (Lord Jowitt), Lord Thankerton, Lord Porter, Lord Uthwatt, Sir Madhavan Nair, and Sir John Beaumont.

Kestrel

Kestrel (pronounced kes-truhl)

(1) In ornithological taxonomy, a common small falcon (especially the Falco tinnunculus), of northern parts of the Eastern Hemisphere, notable for hovering in the air with its head to the wind, its primary diet the small mammals it plucks from the ground.

(2) Any of a number of related small falcons.

(3) A brand-name, used severally (initial upper case).

1400–1450: From the late Middle English castrell, from the Middle English castrel & staniel (bird of prey), from the Middle French cresserelle & quercerelle (bird of prey), a variant of the Old French crecerelle, from cressele (rattle; wooden reel), from the unattested Vulgar Latin crepicella & crepitacillum, a diminutive of crepitāculum (noisy bell; rattle), from the Classical Latin crepitāre (to crackle, to rattle), from crepāre (to rustle). The connection with the Latin is undocumented and based on the folk belief their noise frightened away other hawks.  However, some etymologists contest the connection with the Latin forms and suggest a more likely source is a krek- or krak- (to crack, rattle, creak, emit a bird cry), from the Middle Dutch crāken (to creak, crack), from the Old Dutch krakōn (to crack, creak, emit a cry), from the Proto-West Germanic krakōn, from the Proto-Germanic krakōną (to emit a cry, shout), from the primitive Indo-European gerg- (to shout).  It was cognate with the Old High German krahhōn (to make a sound, crash), the Old English cracian (to resound) and the French craquer (to emit a repeated cry, used of birds).  All however concur the un-etymological -t- probably developed in French.  Kestrel is a noun; the noun plural is kestrels.

A kestrel in flight.

In taxonomy, the variations include the American kestrel (Falco sparverius), the banded kestrel (Falco zoniventris), the common kestrel (Falco tinnunculus), the greater kestrel (Falco rupicoloides), the grey kestrel (Falco ardosiaceus), the lesser kestrel (Falco naumanni), the nankeen kestrel (Falco cenchroides), the Seychelles kestrel (Falco araeus) and the spotted kestrel (Falco moluccensis).  Although the bird had earlier been described as the castrell, in the early seventeenth century the small falcons were more commonly known as windhovers, the construct being wind + hover, reflecting the observations of the ability of the birds literally to hover when facing into the wind.  A now more memorable term however was the one dating from the 1590s: The windfucker (or the fuckwind).  In English, for almost two centuries, any use of the F-word could be controversial and its very existence seemed to make uncomfortable one faction of lexicographers who at one point managed to strike it from almost all dictionaries of English.  They were also revisionists of historical interpretation and claimed windfucker & fuckwind were errors in transcription, the original folk-names being windsucker & suckwind.  To give theis theory a bit of academic gloss, they assembled charts of regionally specific pronunciation in the Late Middle and early Modern English to illustrate the extent to which the archaic long S character ( ſ ) often took the place of an < s > at both the beginnings and middle of words, the argument being the long S was misread as a lowercase ( f ).

It was an intellectually clever way to attempt to remove vulgarity from English but etymologists today give little credence to the theory, noting that the undisputed French sources provide no support.  It may be assumed kestrels came to be called windfuckers & fuckwinds because when displaying their expertise at hovering in the air when facing into the wind, the movements of their bodies does make it look as if airborne copulation is in progress.  Of note too is that in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the same disapprobation didn’t always attach to “fuck” which, although there was a long history of meaning “fornication”, it had also been in figurative use to describe anything from “plough furrows in a field” to “chop down a tree”.  Fuck was from the Middle English fukken and probably of Germanic origin, from either the Old English fuccian or the Old Norse fukka, both from the Proto-Germanic fukkōną, from the primitive Indo-European pewǵ- (to strike, punch, stab).  It was probably the popularity of use as well as the related career as a general-purpose vulgar intensifier which attracted such disapproval.  By 1795 it had been banished from all but the most disreputable dictionaries, not to re-appear until the more permissive 1960s.

Fieseler Fi 156 Storch, Gran Sasso d'Italia massif, Italy, during the mission to rescue Mussolini from captivity, 12 September 1943.  The Duce is sitting in the passenger compartment.

Windfucker thus became archaic but not wholly extinct because it appears in at least one British World War II (1939-1945) diary entry which invoked the folk-name for the bird to describe the German liaison & communications aircraft, the Fieseler Fi 156 Storch (stork), famous for its outstanding short take-off & landing (STOL) performance and low stalling speed of 30 mph (50 km/h) which enabled it almost to hover when faced into a headwind.  The Storch’s ability to land in the length of a cricket pitch (22 yards (20.12 m)) made it a useful platform for all sorts of operations, the most famous of which was the daring landing on a mountain-top in northern Italy to rescue the deposed Duce (Benito Mussolini, 1883-1945; Duce (leader) & prime-minister of Italy 1922-1943).  So short was the length of the strip of grass available for take-off that even for a Storch it was touch & go (especially with the Duce’s not inconsiderable weight added) but with inches to spare, the little plane safely delivered its bulky cargo.

A kestrel windfucking.

Riley was one of the storied names of the British motor industry, beginning as a manufacturer of bicycles in 1896, an after some early experiments as early as 1899, sold its first range of cars in 1905.  Success followed but so did troubles and by 1938, the company had been absorbed into the Nuffield organization.  Production continued but in the post-war years, Riley joined Austin, Morris, Wolseley and MG as part of the British Motor Corporation (BMC) conglomerate and the unique features of the brand began to disappear, the descent to the era of “badge engineering” soon complete.  The last Rileys were the Elf (a tarted-up Mini with a longer boot which was ascetically somehow wrong) and the Kestrel (a tarted-up Austin 1300), neither of which survived the great cull when BMC was absorbed by the doomed British Leyland, marque shuttered in 1969, never to return.  The rights to the Riley brand name are now held by BMW which has never even hinted there may be a revival, their unhappy (and costly) experience with Rover presumably a cautionary tale still told in Bavaria. 

Pre-war Riley Kestrels: 1938 1½ litre four-light Kestrel Sports Saloon (left), 1939 2½ litre Kestrel fixed head coupé (with post-war coachwork) (centre) and 1937 1½ litre 12/4 Kestrel Sprite Special Sports (right).

It was a shame because the pre-war cars in particular had been stylish and innovative, noted for an unusual form of valve activation which used twin camshafts mounted high in the block (thus not “overhead camshafts (OHC)”) which provided the advantages of short pushrods & optimized valve placement offered by the OHC arrangements without the weight and complexity.  Also of interest were their pre-selector transmissions, a kind of semi-automatic gearbox.  Among the most admired had been the 1½ & 2½ litre Kestrels (1934-1940), most of which wore built with saloon coachwork in four or six-light configurations although there were also fixed head (FHC) and drop head coupés (DHC) as well as a few special, lightweight roadsters.

The Kestrel Beer Company's "Flying Kestrel", built by Webster Race Engineering.

Of late, one 1935 Riley Kestrel has enjoyed an unusual afterlife.  In 2020, Scotland’s Kestrel Beer Company commissioned the UK’s Webster Race Engineering to create from one something to use as a land speed record (LSR) contender.  Dubbed “Flying Kestrel”, it’s powered by a turbocharged 2.5 litre (151 cubic inch) Audi TSI inline-five attached to an Audi A6 manual transmission, the power delivered to a Ford 9-inch differential, for decades a mainstay of drag-racing and anywhere else big power and torque needs to be handled.  After setting seven records during a 2021 campaign, the Flying Kestrel returned to Webster for fine-tuning including a new exhaust manifold, turbocharger blanket, and nitrous system for boost and cooling, a key gaol to reduce engine-bay heat.  On the dynamometer, the inline-five registered 991 horsepower (739 Kw) & 753 foot-pounds of torque (1022 Nm) and thus configured an attempt will be made on 17 June 2024 to achieve 200 (322 km/h).  LSR vehicles with much less power have often exceeded 200 mph but typically they have used bodywork with aerodynamic properties more obviously suited for the purpose.  It’s not clear if Webster’s Riley has been subject to much wind-tunnel testing but it may be assumed the shape is far from ideal as an LSR competitor and for some runs it has been fitted with rear fender skirts (spats), a trick in use since the 1920s.

Flying Kestrel with rear spats fitted during 2021 campaign.  Note the holes in the fenders which were added, not as a weight-saving measure (a la the frame of the Mercedes-Benz SSKL (1929-1932)) but to reduce lift at speed, the fenders tending otherwise to act as "parachutes".  The same technique was used by Zora Arkus-Duntov when trying to counter the alarming tendency of the front end of the Chevrolet Corvette Grand Sport (GS, 1962-1964) to "take off" as it approached 150 mph (240 km/h).  For reasons unrelated to aerodynamics, the GS programme proved abortive and of the planned run of 100-125 for homologation purposes, only five were built, all of which survived to become multi-million dollar collectables.      

The spats are one of the rare instances where adding weight increases speed, attested by the tests conducted during the 1930s by Mercedes-Benz and Auto-Union, both factories using spats front and rear on their LSR vehicles, extending the use to road cars although later Mercedes-Benz would admit the 10% improvement claimed for the 1937 540K Autobahn-kurier (highway cruiser) was just “a calculation” and it’s suspected even this was more guesswork than math.  Later, Jaguar’s evaluation of the ideal configuration to use when testing the 1949 XK120 (1948-1954) on Belgium roads revealed the rear spats added about 3-4 mph to top speed though they precluded the use of the lighter wire wheels and did increase the tendency of the brakes to overheat in severe use so, like many things in engineering, it was a trade-off.  More significantly perhaps, when travelling at speeds around 200 mph, “lift” is an issue and one which has afflicted many cars which have adhered well to the road at lower speeds.  Succinctly, the problem was in a 1971 interview explained by the General Motors’ (GM) engineer Zora Arkus-Duntov (1909-1996) who described the 1962-1967 (C2) Chevrolet Corvette as having “just enough lift to be a bad airplane.”  At speed, it’s another trade-off: the desire to lower aerodynamic drag versus the need for sufficient downforce for the tyres to remain sufficiently in contact with the earth’s surface for a driver to retain control, those few square inches of rubber the difference between life & death, especially at around 200 mph.  It’s hoped the “Flying Kestrel” proves a "windfucker" and lives up to the name figuratively, but not literally.

1935 Riley 1½ litre Kestrel (Chassis 22T 1238, Engine SL 4168) with custom coachwork (2004)

The intriguing mechanical specifications and the robust chassis has made the pre-war cars attractive candidates for re-bodying as an alternative to restoration.  Not all approve of such things (the originality police are humorless puritans as uncompromising as any ayatollah) but some outstanding coachwork has been fashioned, almost always the result of converting a saloon or limousine to a coupé, convertible or roadster.  The 1935 1½ litre Kestrel above began life as a four-door saloon which was converted to a DHC during 2004 and the lines have been much-admired, recalling (obviously at a smaller scale) some of the special-bodied Mercedes-Benz SS (1928-1933), the more ostentatious of the larger Buccialis (1928-1933) and the Bugatti Royale (1927-1933).

Tsar

Tsar (pronounced zahr)

(1) An emperor or king.

(2) Title of the former emperors of Russia and several Slavonic states.

(3) Slang term for an autocratic ruler or leader.

(4) Slang term for a person exercising great authority or power in a particular field.

1545-1555: From the Old Russian tsĭsarĭ (emperor or king), akin to the Old Church Slavonic tsěsarĭ, the Gothic kaisar and the Greek kaîsar, all ultimately derived from the Latin Caesar (an emperor, a ruler, a dictator) while the Germanic form of the word was the source of the Finnish keisari and the Estonian keisar.  The prehistoric Slavic was tsesar, Tsar first adopted as an imperial title by Ivan IV (Ivan Vasilyevich, 1530–1584 and better remembered as Ivan the Terrible, Grand Prince of Moscow and all Russia 1533-1584 & Tsar of all Russia 1547-1584) in 1547.  There’s a curious history to spelling tsar as czar.  Spelled thus, it’s contrary to the usage of all Slavonic languages; the word was so spelt by the Carniolan diplomat & historian Baron Siegmund Freiherr von Herberstein (1486–1566) in his work (in Latin) Rerum Moscoviticarum Commentarii (Notes on Muscovite Affairs (1549)) which was such a seminal early source of knowledge of Russia in Western Europe that "czar" passed into the Western languages; despite that history, "tsar" definitely is the proper Latinization.  It still appears and some linguistic academics insist the lineage means it should be regarded as archaic use rather than a mistake and, as a fine technical point, that’s correct in that, for example, the female form czarina is from 1717 (from Italian czarina and German zarin).  In Russian, the female form is tsaritsa and a tsar’s son is a tsarevitch, his daughter a tsarevna.

Nicholas II (Nikolai II Alexandrovich Romanov, 1868–1918; last Tsar of Russia, 1894-1917).  He cut an imposing figure for the portraitists but his cousin Kaiser Wilhelm II (1859–1941; German Emperor & King of Prussia 1888-1918) reckoned the tsar's mental abilities rendered him most suitable to "a cottage in the country where he can grow turnips".  Wilhelm got much wrong in his life but historians seem generally to concur in this he was a fair judge of things.

Tsar and its variants were the official titles of (1) the First Bulgarian Empire 913–1018, (2) the Second Bulgarian Empire (1185–1396), (3) the Serbian Empire (1346–1371), (4) the Tsardom of Russia (1547–1721) (technically replaced in 1721 by imperator, but remaining in use outside Russia (also officially in relation to certain regions until 1917) and (5) the Tsardom of Bulgaria (1908–1946).  So, although most associated with Russia, the first ruler to adopt the title was Simeon I (usually written as Simeon the Great; circa 865-927, ruler of Bulgaria 893-927) and that was about halfway through his reign and nobody since Simeon II (Simeon Borisov Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, b 1937; (last) Tsar of the Kingdom of Bulgaria 1943-1946) has been a tsar.  The transferred sense of "person with dictatorial powers" seems first to have appeared in English in 1866 as an adoption in American English, initially as a disapproving reference to President Andrew Johnson (1808–1875; US President 1865-1869) but it has come to be applied neutrally (health tsar, transport tsar) and use does sometimes demand deconstruction: drug tsar has been applied both to organised crime figures associated with the distribution of narcotics and government appointees responsible for policing the trade.  In some countries, some overlap between the two roles has been noted.

Comrade Stalin agitprop.

Volgograd, the southern Russian city was between 1925-1961 named Stalingrad (Stalin + -grad).  Grad (град in Cyrillic) was from the Old Slavic and translates variously as "town, city, castle or fortified settlement"; it once existed in many languages as gord and can be found still as grad, gradić, horod or gorod in many place-names.  Before it was renamed in honour of comrade Stalin (1878-1953, leader of the USSR 1924-1953), between 1589-1925, the city, at the confluence of the Tsaritsa and Volga rivers was known as Tsaritsyn, the name from the Turkic-related Tatar dialect word sarisin meaning "yellow water" or "yellow river" but because of the similarity in sound and spelling, came in Russia to be associated with Tsar.  Stalingrad is remembered as the scene of the epic and savage battle which culminated in the destruction in February 1943 of the German Sixth Army, something which, along with the strategic failure of the Wehrmacht in the offensive (Unternehmen Zitadelle (Operation Citadel) in the Kursk salient five months later, marked what many military historians record as the decisive moment on the Eastern Front.  It has become common to refer to comrade Stalin as the "Red Tsar" whereas casual comparisons of Mr Putin (Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin; b 1952; president or prime minister of Russia since 1999) don't often reach to Russia's imperial past; they seem to stop with Stalin.

Caesar (an emperor, a ruler, a dictator) was from the late fourteenth century cesar (from Cæsar) and was originally a surname of the Julian gens in Rome, elevated to a title after Caius Julius Caesar (100-44 BC) became dictator and it was used as a title of emperors down to Hadrian (76–138; Roman emperor 117-138).  The name ultimately is of uncertain origin, Pliny the Elder (23–79) suggested it came from the Latin caesaries (head of hair) because the future dictator was born with a lush growth while others have linked it to the Latin caesius (bluish-gray), an allusion to eye color.  The "probity of Caesar's" wife (the phrase first recorded in English in the 1570s) as the figure of a person who should be above suspicion comes from the biography of Julius Caesar written by the Greek Middle Platonist priest-philosopher & historian Plutarch (circa 46–circa 123).  Plutarch related the story of how Julius Caesar divorced his wife Pompeia because of rumors of infidelity, not because he believed the tales of her adultery but because, as a political position, “the wife of Caesar must not even be under suspicion”.  That’s the origin of the phrase “the probity of Caesar’s wife, a phrase which first appeared in English in the 1570s.

In late nineteenth century US slang, a sheriff was "the great seizer" an allusion to the office's role in seizing property pursuant to court order.  The use of Caesar to illustrate the distinction between a subject’s obligations to matters temporal and spiritual is from the New Testament: Matthew 22:21.

They say unto him, Caesar's. Then saith he unto them, Render therefore unto Caesar the things which are Caesar's; and unto God the things that are God's.

Christ had been answering a question posed by the Pharisees to trap Him: Is it lawful to pay taxes to Caesar (Matthew 22:15–20)?  To answer, Jesus held up a denarius, the coin with which pay the tax and noted that on it was the head of Caesar, by then Caesar had become a title, meaning emperor of Rome and its empire.  It was a clever answer; in saying "render unto Caesar that which is Caesar's and render unto God that which is God's", Jesus dismisses the notion of believers being conflicted by the demands of the secular state as a false dilemma because, one can fulfil the requirements of the sate by a mere payment of coin without any implication of accepting its doctrines or legitimacy.  Over the years much has been made of what is or should be "rendered unto Caesar", but more interesting is inference which must be drawn: if we owe Caesar that which bears his image, what then do we owe God?  It can only be that we owe God that which bears the image of God, an impressive inventory listed in the book of Genesis and now interpreted by some Christians as "the whole universe".  To Caesar we can only ever owe money; to God we owe ourselves.

In the Old English the spelling was casere, which would under the expected etymological process have evolved into coser, but instead, circa 1200, it was replaced in the Middle English by keiser, from the Norse or Low German, and later by the French or Latin form of the name.  Cæsar also is the root of German Kaiser, the Russian tsar and is linked with the Modern Persian shah.  Despite the common assumption, "caesar" wasn’t an influence on the English "king".  King was from the Middle English king & kyng, from the Old English cyng & cyning (king), from the Proto-West Germanic kuning, from the Proto-Germanic kuningaz & unungaz (king), kin being the root.  It was cognate with the Scots keeng (king), the North Frisian köning (king), the West Frisian kening (king), the Dutch koning (king), the Low German Koning & Köning (king), the German König (king), the Danish konge (king), the Norwegian konge (king), the Swedish konung & kung (king), the Icelandic konungur & kóngur (king), the Finnish kuningas (king) and the Russian князь (knjaz) (prince) & княги́ня (knjagínja) (princess).  It eclipsed the non-native Middle English roy (king) and the Early Modern English roy, borrowed from Old French roi, rei & rai (king).

The Persian Shah was from the Old Persian xšāyaθiya (king), once thought a borrowing from the Median as it was compared to the Avestan xšaϑra- (power; command), corresponding to the Sanskrit (the Old Indic) kṣatra- (power; command), source of kṣatriya (warrior).  However, recent etymological research has confirmed xšāyaθiya was a genuine, inherited Persian formation meaning “pertaining to reigning, ruling”.  The word, with the origin suffix -iya was from a deverbal abstract noun xšāy-aθa- (rule, ruling) (Herrschaft), from the Old Persian verb xšāy- (to rule, reign).  In the Old Persian, the full title of the Achaemenid rulers of the First Empire was Xšāyaθiya Xšāyaθiyānām (or in Modern Persian, Šāhe Šāhān (King of Kings)), best as "Emperor", a title with ancient, Near Eastern and Mesopotamian precedents.  The earliest known instance of such a title dates from the Middle Assyrian period as šar šarrāni, used by the Assyrian ruler Tukulti-Ninurta I (1243–1207 BC).

Tsar Bomba: the Tsar bomb

Tupolev Tu-95 in flight (left) and a depiction of the October 1961 test detonation of the Tsar Bomb.

Царь-бомба (Tsar Bomba (Tsar-bomb)) was the Western nickname for the Soviet RDS-220 hydrogen bomb (Project code: AN602; code name Ivan or Vanya), the most powerful nuclear weapon ever detonated.  The test on 30 October 1961 remains the biggest man-made explosion in history and was rated with a yield of 50-51 megatons although the design was technically able to produce maximum yield in excess of 100.  For a long time the US estimated the yield at 54 megatons and the Russians at 58 but after the fall of the Soviet Union in 1991, it was confirmed the true yield was 50-51 megatons.  Only one was ever built and it was detonated on an island off the Russian arctic coast.  The decision to limit the size blast was related to the need to ensure (1) a reduced nuclear fall-out and (2) the aircraft dropping the thing would be able to travel a safe distance from the blast radius (the Kremlin's attitude to the lives of military personnel had changed since comrade Stalin's time).  No nuclear power has since expressed any interest in building weapons even as large as the Tsar Bomb and for decades the trend in strategic arsenals has been more and smaller weapons, a decision taken on the pragmatic military grounds that it's pointless to destroy things many times over.  It's true that higher yield nuclear weapons would produce "smaller rubble" but to the practical military mind such a result represents just "wasted effort".

Progress 1945-1961.

The Tupolev Tu-95 (NATO reporting name: Bear) which dropped the Tsar Bomb was a curious fork in aviation history, noted also for its longevity.  A four-engined turboprop-powered strategic bomber and missile platform, it entered service in 1956 and is expected still to be in operational use in 2040, an expectation the United States Air Force (USAF) share for their big strategic bomber, the Boeing B-52 which first flew in 1952, the first squadrons formed three years later.  Both airframes have proven remarkably durable and amenable to upgrades; as heavy lift devices and delivery systems they could be improved upon with a clean-sheet design but the relatively small advantages gained would not justify the immense cost, thus the ongoing upgrade programmes.  The TU-95's design was, inter-alia, notable for being one of the few propeller-driven aircraft with swept wings and is the only one ever to enter large-scale production.  It's also very loud, the tips of those counter-rotating propellers sometimes passing through the sound barrier.

Footage of the Tsar Bomb test de-classified and released after the dissolution of the Soviet Union (1922-1991).

The Tsar Bomb was in a sense the “ultimate” evolution of the centuries long history of the bomb although it wasn’t the end of innovation, designers seemingly never running out of ideas to refine the concept of the device, the purpose of which is to (1) blow stuff up and (2) kill people.  Bomb was from the French bombe, from the Italian bomba, from the Latin bombus (a booming sound), from the Ancient Greek βόμβος (bómbos) (booming, humming, buzzing), the explosive imitative of the sound itself.  Bomb was used originally of “projectiles; mortar shells etc”, the more familiar “explosive device placed by hand or dropped from airplane” said by many sources to date from 1908 although the word was in the former sense used when describing the anarchist terrorism of the late nineteenth century.  As a footnote, the nickname of Hugh Trenchard (1873-1956), the first Marshal of the Royal Air Force (RAF) was “boom” but this was related to his tone of voice rather than an acknowledgement of him being one of the earliest advocates of strategic bombing.

The figurative uses were wide, ranging from “a dilapidated car” (often as “old bomb”, the use based presumably on the perception such vehicles are often loud).  The bombshell was originally literally a piece of military equipment but it was later co-opted (most memorably as “blonde bombshell) to describe a particularly fetching young women.  So, used figuratively, “bomb” could mean either “very bad” or “very good” and in his weekly Letter from American (broadcast by the BBC World Service 1946-2004), Alistair Cooke (1908–2004) noted a curious trans-Atlantic dichotomy.  In the world of showbiz, Cooke observed, “bomb” was used in both the US & UK to describe the reaction to a play, movie or whatever but in the US, if called “a bomb”, the production was a flop, a failure whereas in the UK, if something was called “quite a bomb”, it meant it was a great success.

I Know Who Killed Me (2007)

I Know Who Killed Me bombed (in the traditional US sense) but in the way these things sometimes happen, the film has since enjoyed a second life with a cult-following and screenings on the specialized festival circuit.  Additionally, DVD & Blu-Ray sales (it's said to be a popular, if sometimes ironic, gift) meant eventually it generated a profit although it has never exactly become a "bomb" (in the UK sense).  However, while it now enjoys a following among a small sub-set of the public, the professional critics have never softened their view.

Dunbar

Dunbar (pronounced duhn-bahr)

(1) A proper noun (given and surnames, town & locality names etc).

(2) As Dunbar's number, a suggested cognitive limit to the number of people with whom one can maintain stable social relationships (those in which an individual knows who each person is and how each person relates to every other person).

Pre 1100: From a Boernician family in ancient Scotland who are the ancestors of those who first used the name Dunbar. They lived in the barony of Dunbar on the North Sea coast near Edinburgh. The construct of the place name is from the Gaelic dùn (a fort) + barr (top; summit).  The surname Dunbar was created by the eleventh century barony of Dunbar in the Lothians, created when Cospatrick fled to Scotland after being deprived of his Earldom of Northumberland by William the Conqueror.

Dunbar’s Number

British anthropologist Robin Dunbar (b 1947) explored the idea there might be a relationship between brain size and social group size through his studies of non-human primates.  This ratio was mapped using neuroimaging and the observation of time devoted to important social behaviour among primates.  Dunbar concluded that the size (relative to body mass) of the neocortex (the part of the brain associated with cognition and language) is linked to the size of a cohesive social group.  This ratio is a measure of the complexity a social system can handle.

Using this mathematical model, Dunbar applied the principle to humans, examining historical, anthropological and contemporary psychological data about group sizes, including how big groups get before they fragment, split off or collapse, finding a remarkable consistency around the number one-hundred and fifty (150).  The 150 number appears to apply to early hunter-gatherer societies and an array of more modern formations: offices, communes, factories, residential campsites, military organisations, medieval English villages and even Christmas card lists.  Where the number exceeds 150, network cohesion reduces.

Others have done research in this area and their theories tend to suggest the tightest circle has just 5 (loved ones) followed by successive layers of 15 (close friends), 50 (friends), 150 (meaningful contacts), 500 (acquaintances) and 1500 (those you can recognise).  People migrate in and out of these layers, but the idea is that space has to be carved out for any new entrants.  Dunbar offered no suggestion why these layers exist in multiples of five, but noted it did seem fundamental to monkeys and apes and most research indicated this was replicated in human relationships.  Dunbar’s 150 number is contested within the discipline although most in the field concur there probably is a Dunbarian number.  However, reducing it to a mean value may not be a helpful model of social interaction because connections aren’t normally distributed (shaped like a bell curve), a few people with massive or tiny numbers of contacts tending to distort the result.  There are also critiques on methodological grounds. Primates’ brain sizes are influenced by other aspects besides social complexity and social capacity can be stretched in different cultural settings, especially with the advent of newer technologies.

There are friends and there are followers and there is no such thing as a Dunbar number for followers; one can certainly suffer a surplus of "friends" but one can never have too many "followers".

People had friends before there was Facebook but the platform’s use of “friends” as the original prime identifier of a linkage with another did annoy those who thought “acquaintances” should have been offered as an alternative and had Facebook’s founders known what was to come, they might have done things a little differently.  However, because of Facebook’s origins as a parochial system peculiar to a single educational institution, the use of “friend” at the time certainly reflected the purpose and the approach was little difference to the other embryonic social media platforms early in the twenty-first century.  Once deconstructed, the structural similarities between Facebook, Bebo, Friendster, hi5 and MySpace were quite striking but Facebook flourished and the others did not.  There were many reasons for this but Facebook certainly benefited from learning from the mistakes of those who came first and their product offered a better experience for users who clearly preferred ease of navigation and simplicity of use compared to extensive (and not always intuitive) configurability.  Having a large group of Harvard University students as a beta test group proved invaluable and unlike others, what Facebook had from day one of its general release was a product which was inherently global and scalable.

Had the evolution of the socials been predictable, Facebook might well from the start have had “customers” and “acquaintances” as well as “friends” and it probably would also have allowed the addition of “followers”, now one of the core measures in the ecosystem.  The difference between “friends” and “followers” is that friends are presumed to enjoy a mutual connection and the establishment of the relationship needs mutual consent while followers may attach themselves of their own volition; friends are thus symmetrical, followers inherently an asymmetric concept although it’s known many Facebook accounts have friend counts which suggest the user is accumulating them essentially as followers.

“Friend” has before been used in novel (frankly Orwellian) ways.  The head of the Nazi SS (the Schutzstaffel (protection squad), a paramilitary formation which became an economic empire and in wartime eventually morphed into a parallel army close to a million-strong), Heinrich Himmler (1900–1945; Reichsführer SS 1929-1945), also coordinated an interesting aggregation of individuals and institutions styled the Freundeskreis Reichsführer SS (Circle of Friends of the Reichsführer SS (FRFSS)).  The origins of the FRFSS lay in the Freundeskreis der Wirtschaft (Circle of Friends of the Economy), a kind of combination of think tank and slush fund, the money provided by those in industry or the finance sector who either wished to support the party or anticipated them gaining power and wished to be on the winning side.  Himmler’s power grew during the 1930s but many of his grand designs (a good number of them crackpot schemes) hadn’t proceeded beyond the planning stage because of a lack of funds, the resources of the state directed primarily towards re-armament.  In re-constituting the Circle of Friends of the Economy as the FRFSS, funds became available on the basis of mutual interest, Himmler as the coordinator of repression in the Nazi state able to use the SS to deliver cheap labor (mostly from concentration camps) in exchange for the money and technical assistance he needed to build the economic enterprises he intended to create to make the SS independent of the state.  In this hunt he faced some competition from others, notably Hermann Göring (1893–1946; leading Nazi 1922-1945, Hitler's designated successor & Reichsmarschall 1940-1945) who led an expensive lifestyle as well as needing money for his industrial empire.  Himmler’s Dunbar number has never been certain but it’s believed the number of friends in the FRFSS never exceeded a few dozen.

Vogue

Vogue (pronounced vohg)

(1) Something in fashion at a particular time or in a particular place.

(2) An expression of popular currency, acceptance, or favor.

(3) A highly stylized modern dance that evolved out of the Harlem ballroom scene in the 1960s, the name influenced by the fashion magazine; one who practiced the dance was a voguer who was voguing.

(4) In Polari, a cigarette or to light a cigarette (often in the expression “vogue me up”).

(5) The world's best known women's fashion magazine, the first issue in 1892 and now published by Condé Nast.

1565–1575: From the Middle English vogue (height of popularity or accepted fashion), from the Middle French vogue (fashion, success (literally, “wave or course of success”)), from the Old French vogue (a rowing), from voguer (to row, sway, set sail), from the Old Saxon wegan (to move) & wogōn (to sway, rock), a variant of wagōn (to float, fluctuate), from the Proto-Germanic wagōną (to sway, fluctuate) and the Proto-Germanic wēgaz (water in motion), wagōną (to sway, fluctuate), wēgaz (water in motion) & weganą (to move, carry, weigh), from the primitive Indo-European weǵh- (to move, go, transport (and an influence on the English way).  The forms were akin to the Old Saxon wegan (to move), the Old High German wegan (to move), the Old English wegan (to move, carry, weigh), the Old Norse vaga (to sway, fluctuate), the Old English wagian (to sway, totter), the Proto-West Germanic wagōn, the German Woge (wave) and the Swedish våg.  A parallel development the Germanic forms was the Spanish boga (rowing) and the Old Italian voga (a rowing), from vogare (to row, sail), of unknown origin and the Italianate forms were probably some influence on the development of the verb.  Vogue, voguie & voguer are nouns (voguette an informal noun), voguing is a noun and adjective, vogued is a verb and vogueing & voguish are adjectives; the noun plural is vogues.  The noun voguie is a special use and is a synonym of fashionista ((1) one who creates or promotes high fashion (designers, editors, models, influencers etc) or (2) one who dresses according to the trends of fashion, or one who closely follows those trends).

All etymologists seem to concur the modern meaning is from the notion of being "borne along on the waves of fashion" and colloquially the generalized sense of "fashion, reputation" is probably from the same Germanic source.  The phrase “in vogue” (having a prominent place in popular fashion) was recorded as long ago as 1643.  The fashion magazine (now owned by Condé Nast) began publication in 1892 and young devotees of its advice (they are legion) are voguettes.  In linguistics, vogue words are those words & phrases which become suddenly (although not always neologisms) popular and fade from use or becoming clichéd or hackneyed forms (wardrobe malfunction; awesome; problematic; at this point in time; acid test; in this space; parameters; paradigm etc).  Because it’s so nuanced, vogue has no universal synonym but words which tend to the same meaning (and can in some circumstances be synonymous) include latest, mod, now, rage, chic, craze, currency, custom, fad, favor, mode, popularity, practice, prevalence, style, stylishness, thing, trend & usage.

Lindsay Lohan cover, Vogue (Spanish edition), August 2009.

In Regional English, "vogue" could mean "fog or mist" and in Cornwall, the hamlet of Vogue in the parish of St Day gained its name from the Medieval Cornish vogue (a word for a medieval smelting furnace (ie "blowing house", the places generating much smoke)); civilization contributing to the increase in atmospheric concentrations of greenhouse gasses is nothing new.  Clearly better acquainted with trademark law than geography, in early 2022 counsel for Condé Nast sent a C&D (cease and desist letter) to the inn-keeper of the village’s The Star Inn at Vogue pub, demanding the place change its name to avoid any public perception of a connection between the two businesses.  The owners of the venerable pub declined the request (cheekily suggesting they might send their own C&D to Vogue demanding the publication find a new name on the basis of usurpation (an old tort heard before the Court of Chivalry).  Condé Nast subsequently apologized, citing insufficient investigation by their staff, a framed copy of their letter hung on the pub's wall.  Honor apparently satisfied on both sides, the two Vogues resumed the peaceful co-existence which had prevailed since 1892. 

1981 Range Rover In Vogue from the first run with the standard stylized steel wheels (left) and a later 1981 In Vogue with the three-spoke aluminum units.

Much of the 1970s was spent in what to many felt like a recession, even if there were only some periods in some places during which the technical definition was fulfilled and the novel phenomenon of stagflation did disguise some of the effects.  Less affected than most (of course) were the rich who had discovered a new status-symbol, the Range Rover which, introduced in 1970 had legitimized (though there were earlier ventures) the idea of the "luxury" four-wheel-drive (4WD) segment although the interior of the original was very basic (the floor-coverings rubber mats rather than carpets on the assumption that, as with the even more utilitarian Land Rovers, there would be a need to "hose out" the mud accumulated from a day's HSF (huntin', shootin' & fishin')), the car’s reputation built more on it's then unique blend of competence on, and off-road.  So good was the Range Rover in both roles that owners, used to being cosseted in leather and walnut, wanted something closer to that to which they were accustomed and dealers received enquiries about an up-market version.

Lindsay Lohan at the opening of the Ninety years of Vogue covers exhibition, Crillon Hotel, Paris, 2009.

That had been Rover’s original intention.  The plan had been to release a basic version powered by four cylinder engines and a luxury edition with a V8 but by 1970 time and development funds had run out so the car was released with the V8 power-train and the more spartan interior although it was quickly apparent few owners took advantage of being able to hose out the mud.  Indeed, so skewed was the buyer profile to urban profiles it's likely the only time many ventured off the pavement was to find a good spot in the car parks of polo fields.  In something which must now seem remarkable, although already perceived as a "prestige" vehicle, for the first decade-odd, the Range Rover was not available with either air-conditioning or an automatic transmission.  However, if the rich were riding out the decade well, British Leyland (which owned Rover) was not and it lacked the capital to devote to the project.  Others took advantage of what proved a profitable niche and those with the money (or spending OPM (other people's money) could choose from a variety of limited-production and bespoke offerings including LWB (long-wheelbase) models, four-door conversions, six wheelers and even open-topped versions from a variety of coach-builders such as Wood & Pickett and low-volume manufacturers like Switzerland’s Monteverdi which anticipated the factory by a number of years with their four-door coachwork.

Rendez-vous à Biarritz, Vogue magazine, March 1981.  The eight page advertising supplement was for Lancôme and Jaeger fashion collections, the Wood & Pickett-trimmed Range Rover a "backdrop" which would prove a serendipitous piece of product placement. 

British Leyland was soon subject to one of the many re-organizations which would seek (without success) to make it a healthy corporation and one consequence was increased autonomy for the division making Range Rovers.  No longer compelled to subsidize less profitable arms of the business, attention was turned to the matter of a luxury model, demand for which clearly existed.  To test market reaction, in late 1980, the factory collaborated with Wood & Pickett to design a specially-equipped two-door model as a proof-of-concept exercise to gauge market reaction.  The prototype (HAC 414W) was lent to Vogue magazine, a crafty choice given the demographic profile of the readership and the by then well-known extent of women’s own purchasing power and influence on that of their husbands.  Vogue took the prototype to Biarritz to be the photographic backdrop for the images taken for the magazine’s co-promotion of the 1981 Lancôme and Jaeger fashion collections, published in an eight-page advertising spread entitled Rendez-vous à Biarritz in the March 1981 edition.  The response was remarkable and while Lancôme and Jaeger’s launch attracted polite attention, Vogue’s mailbox (which then received letters in envelopes with postage stamps) was overwhelmingly filled with enquiries about the blinged-up Range-Rover (although "bling" was a linguistic generation away from use).

Vogue's Range Rover In Vogue (HAC 414W) in Biarritz, 1981, all nuts on board or otherwise attached.  The model name was a play on words, Range Rovers very much "in vogue" and this particular version substantially the one "in Vogue".

Rover had expected demand to be strong and the reaction to the Vogue spread justified their decision to prepare for a production run even before publication and the Range Rover In Vogue went on sale early in 1981, the limited-edition run all closely replicating the photo-shoot car except for the special aluminum wheels which were not yet in volume production.  Amusingly, the triple-spoke wheels (similar to the design Ford had used on the 1979 (Fox) Mustang) had been a problem in Biarritz, the factory supplying the wrong lug nuts which had a tendency to fall off, meaning the staff travelling with the car had to check prior to each shoot to ensure five were present on each wheel which would appear in the picture.  Not until later in the year would the wheels be ready so the In Vogue’s went to market with the standard stylized steel units, meaning the brochures had to be pulped and reprinted with new photographs and some small print: "Alloy wheels, as featured on the vehicle used by Vogue magazine will be available at extra cost through Unipart dealers later in 1981".  British Leyland's record-keeping was at the time as chaotic as much of its administration so it remains unclear how many were built.  The factory said the run would be 1,000, all in right hand drive (RHD) but many left hand drive (LHD) examples exist and it’s thought demand from the continent was such another small batch was built although this has never been confirmed.  The In Vogue’s exclusive features were:

Light blue metallic paint (the model-exclusive Vogue Blue) with wide body stripes in two shades of grey (not black as on the prototype).
High compression (9.35:1) version of the V8 (to provide more torque).
Higher high-gear ratio (0.996:1) in the transfer box (to reduce engine speed and thus noise in highway driving).
Air conditioning
Varnished walnut door cappings.
Armrest between the front seats.
Map pockets on the back of the front seats (the rationale for not including the folding picnic tables so beloved by English coach-builders being the design of the Range Rover's rear tailgate had made it the "de-facto picnic table".
Fully carpeted luggage compartment.
Carpeted spare wheel cover and tool-kit curtain.
Picnic hamper.
Stainless steel tailgate cap.
Black wheel hub caps.

The "fitted picnic hamper".

Condé Nast would later describe the In Vogue’s custom picnic hamper as the car’s "pièce de résistance". which might have amused Rover's engineers who would have put some effort into stuff they'd have thought "substantive".  Now usually written in English as "piece de resistance" (masterpiece; the most memorable accomplishment of one’s career or lifetime; one's magnum opus (great work)), the French phrase pièce de résistance (literally the "piece which has staying power") seems first to have appeared in English in Richard Cumberland (1732–1811) novel Arundel (1789).  One can see the writer's point.  Although the walnut, additional torque and certainly the air conditioning would have been selling points, like nothing else, the picnic hamper would have delighted the target market.

Demand for the In Vogue far exceeded supply and additional production runs quickly were scheduled.  In response to customer demand, the most frequently made request was acceded to, the second series available with Chrysler's robust TorqueFlite automatic transmission, introduced at the same time as the debut of a four-door version, another popular enquiry while the three-spoke wheels became standard equipment and equipment levels continued to rise, rear-head restraints fitted along with a much enhanced sound-system.  In what was perhaps a nod to the wisdom of the magazine's editors, although a cooler replaced the hamper for the second run, for the third, buyers received both cooler and hamper.  The third series, launched in conjunction with the Daks autumn fashion collection at Simpson's of Piccadilly, included a digital radio, the convenience of central locking and the almost unnoticed addition of front mud flaps so clearly there was an understanding that despite the Range Rover's well deserved reputation as a "Chelsea taxi", the things did sometimes see the mud and ladies didn't like the stuff getting on their dresses as they alighted.  In 1984, as "Vogue", it became the regular production top-of-the-range model and for many years served in this role although, for licencing reasons, when sole in the US it was called the "Country").  For both companies, the In Vogue and subsequent Vogues turned out to be the perfect symbiosis.

Art and Engineering

Vogue, January 1925, cover art by Georges Lepape.

From the start, Vogue (the magazine) was of course about frocks, shoes and such but its influence extended over the years to fields as diverse as interior decorating and industrial design.  The work of Georges Lepape (1887-1971) has long been strangely neglected in the history of art deco but he was a fine practitioner whose reputation probably suffered because his compositions habitually were regarded as derivative or imitative which seems unfair given there are many who are more highly regarded despite being hardly original.  His cover art for Vogue’s edition of 1 January 1925 juxtaposed one of French artist Sonia Delaunay’s (1885–1979) "simultaneous" pattern dresses and a Voisin roadster decorated with an art deco motif.

1927 Voisin C14 Lumineuse.

One collector in 2015 was so taken with Pepape’s image that when refurbishing his 1927 Voisin C14 Lumineuse (literally “light”, an allusion to the Voisin’s greenhouse-inspired design which allowed natural light to fill the interior), he commissioned Dutch artist Bernadette Ramaekers to hand-paint a geometric triangular pattern in sympathy with that on the Vogue cover in 1925.  Ms Ramaekers took six months to complete the project and when sold at auction in London in 2022, it realized Stg£202,500.  There are few designers as deserving of such a tribute as French aviation pioneer Gabriel Voisin (1880–1973) who made military aircraft during the First World War (1914-1918) and, under the name Avions Voisin, produced a remarkable range of automobiles between 1919-1939, encapsulating thus the whole inter-war period and much of the art deco era.  Because his designs were visually so captivating, much attention has always been devoted to his lines, curves and shapes but the underlying engineering was also interesting although some of his signature touches, like the (briefly in vogue) sleeve valve engine, proved a mirage.

Voisin's extraordinary visions:  1934 C27 Aérosport (left), 1934-1935 Voisin C25 Aérodynes (centre) & 1931 C20 Mylord Demi Berline (right).

Also a cul-de-sac was his straight-12 engine.  Slow-running straight-12 (there is even a straight-14 which displaces 25,340 litres (1,546,000 cubic inches) and produces 107,290 hp (80,080 kW)) engines are known at sea where they’re used in (very) big ships but on the road (apart from some less than successful military vehicles), only Voisin and Packard ever attempted them, the former making two, the latter, one.  Voisin’s concept was simple enough; it was two straight-6s joined together, end-on-end, the same idea many had used to make things like V12s (2 x V6s) straight-8s (2 x straight-4s) H16s (two flat-8s, one atop another) and even V24s (2 x V12s) but the sheer length of a straight-12 in a car presented unique problems in packaging and the management of the torsional vibrations induced by the elongated crankshaft.  Straight-12s were built for use in aircraft (Bristol's Type 25 Braemar II in 1919 using four of them!) where the attraction was the aerodynamic advantage conferred by the small frontal area but as engine speeds increased in the 1920s, so did the extent of the problem of crankshaft flex and the concept was never revived.

1934 Voisin C15 Saloit Roadster (left) and the one-off Packard straight-12, scrapped when the decision was taken not to proceed to production (right).

The length of the straight-12 meant an extraordinary amount of the vehicle’s length had to be devoted to housing just the engine and that resulted in a high number for what designers call the dash-to-axle ratio.  That was one of the many reasons the straight-12 never came into vogue and indeed was one of the factors which doomed the straight-8, a configuration which at least had some redeeming features.  Voisin must however have liked the appearance of the long hood (bonnet) because the striking C15 Saloit Roadster (which could have accommodated a straight-12) was powered by a straight-4, a sleeve valve Knight of 2500 cm³ (153 cubic inch).  The performance doubtlessly didn’t live up to the looks but so sensuous were those looks that many would forgive the lethargy.  The concept of a short engine in a lengthy compartment was revived by Detroit in the 1960s & 1970s, many of the truly gargantuan full-sized sedans and coupes built with elongated front & rear structures.  At the back, the cavernous trunks (boots) often could swallow four sets of gold clubs which would have had some appeal to the target market but much of the space under the hood was unused.  While large enough to accommodate a V16, the US industry hadn't made those since the last of the Cadillac V16s left the line in 1940 after a ten-year run.  While one of the reasons the V8 had supplanted the straight-8 was its relatively compact length, that virtue wasn't needed by the late 1950s when, in all directions, the sheet-metal grew well beyond what was required by the mechanical components, the additional size just for visual impact to enhance the perception of prestige and luxury in an era when bigger was better.  Dramatic though the look could be (witness the 1969 Pontiac Grand Prix), the packaging efficiency was shockingly wasteful.

The Dart which never was

Using one of his signature outdoor settings, Norman Parkinson (1913-1990) photographed model Suzanne Kinnear (b 1935) adorning a Daimler SP250, wearing a Kashmoor coat and Otto Lucas beret with jewels by Cartier.

The image appeared on the cover (left) of Vogue's UK edition in November 1959, the original's (right) color being "enhanced" in the Vogue pre-production editing tradition (women thinner, cars shinier).  The "wide" whitewall tyres were a thing at the time, even on sports cars and were a popular option on US market Jaguar E-Types (there (unofficially) called XK-E or XKE) in the early 1960s.  The car on the Vogue cover was XHP 438, built on prototype chassis 100002 at Compton Verney in 1959; it's the oldest surviving SP250, the other two prototypes (chassis 100000 & 100001 from 1958) dismantled when testing was completed.  XHP 438 was the factory's press demonstrator and was used in road tests by Motor and Autocar magazines before being re-furbished (motoring journalists subjecting the press fleet to a brief but hard life) and sold.  Uniquely, when XPH 438 was first registered in England, it was as a "Daimler Dart".

More Issues Than Vogue sweatshirt from Impressions.

There was however an issue with the "Dart" name.  The SP250 was first shown to the public at the 1959 New York Motor Show and there the problems began.  Aware the little sports car was quite a departure from the luxurious but rather staid line-up Daimler had for years offered, the company had chosen the pleasingly alliterative “Dart” as its name, hoping it would convey the sense of something agile and fast.  Unfortunately, Chrysler’s lawyers were faster still, objecting that they had already registered Dart as the name for a full-sized Dodge so Daimler needed a new name and quickly; the big Dodge would never be confused with the little Daimler but the lawyers insisted.  Imagination apparently exhausted, Daimler’s management reverted to the engineering project name and thus the car became the SP250 which was innocuous enough even for Chrysler's attorneys and it could have been worse.  Dodge had submitted their Dart proposal to Chrysler for approval and while the car found favor, the name did not and the marketing department was told to conduct research and come up with something the public would like.  From this the marketing types gleaned that “Dodge Zipp” would be popular and to be fair, dart and zip(p) do imply much the same thing but ultimately the original was preferred and Darts remained in Dodge’s lineup until 1976, for most of that time one of the corporation's best-selling and most profitable lines.  Cynically, the name was between 2012-2016 revived for an unsuccessful and unlamented FWD (front-wheel-drive) compact sedan.