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Film Review: The Glass Key (1942)
The glass key 1942. Home of the biggest pricing. Ergonomic torque limiter key indicates when the rack is safely and properly secured to your vehicle. In this slick updating of Dashiell Hammet's crime novel, political boss Paul Madvig (Brian Donlevy) falls for reform politician Ralph Henry's attractive daughter Janet (Veronica Lake), despite the caution of his best friend, Ed Beaumont (Alan Ladd). Customize Your Product. Not quite so resonant an early example of noir as The Maltese Falcon, partly because the novel's ending has been clumsily softened, but still a remarkably. 20+ David Ladd ideas.
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This time, Ladd plays the best friend and enforcer of a corrupt city boss and Lake is the rich girl who tries to play them against each other. Men's 1942 Elgin Military Pocket Watch with Hack browse this site. Selling price: $862.50 not including buyer's premium (Morphy Auctions - 1/11) Morphy Auctions. The Glass Key is based on the popular Dashiell Hammett novel. Two Swedish snow mobiles with licence plates attached to the side of the vehicles. Glass would also have been bettered served with. However, Madvig's crooked history is hard to forget when he finds himself at the centre of a murder plot.
Clarkson's Columns: Making Bee Juice and Defending the Commonwealth
Stung into action by the plight of bees, Jeremy Clarkson bought a quarter of a million. The honey's just a sweetener (Sunday Times, July 12)
Everyone likes Morgan Freeman. And now everyone likes him a little bit more because we learnt recently that he's turned his 124-acre Mississippi estate into a sanctuary for honeybees.
We have it in our heads that honeybees are important. And we are right. Being kind to bees is even more important than not throwing a plastic bottle into the sea, or not buying a Range Rover.
There's an impressive documentary called The Serengeti Rules, which explains that in each tiny ecosystem there is always one keystone species. You remove the barnacles from a rock pool in the Pacific Northwest and nothing happens. It's the same story if you remove any of the other things in there, except the starfish. If you get rid of them, pretty soon all you have left are mussels, because they are no longer prey.
The documentary-makers take us on an odyssey round the world, showing how this system works everywhere, until they end up on the Serengeti, where it turns out that every single thing owes its existence to the vast herds of wildebeest. Unless these are maintained, in huge numbers, nothing else can survive.
Which brings us back to the honeybee. If it becomes extinct, pretty soon you'll be killing your neighbour for a half-eaten tin of cat food and licking the moss in your cellar to stay alive.
Honeybees are responsible for about £20bn worth of American crop production a year. The bee is the cornerstone of everything. It is the planet's keystone species. And for the past few years, in Europe, its numbers have been dropping at an alarming rate. Which is why I have stepped in and done a Morgan. I've decided that my farm should be bee-friendly.
That's why there are now 150ft-wide strips of wild flowers growing in the middle of my spring barley fields. And it's why, three weeks ago, I took delivery of a quarter of a million bees.
They were delivered by a Ukrainian man called Victor, who said I must check on them every two days. So that's what I did. I stood about in the woods where I keep the hives, watching the bees whizzing hither and thither. And after a short while I realised I had no idea what I was looking for exactly. It was like checking my prostate. What's normal and what's not? I read many books and was interested to learn that the bee that finds a large amount of nectar will return to her hive to perform a "waggle" dance that lets the other bees know which direction they should fly to find it and how far away it is.
The bees calculate how much energy they'll use to cover that distance and therefore how much food they'll need for the return journey with the extra weight of all that pollen in the baskets on their back legs. This, of course, is just the lady bee. The gentleman bee does nothing. He sits in the hive all day with his mates, waiting for the queen to say she fancies a shag.
Life inside the hive is almost impossible to understand, but one thing's for sure: these guys have a society that makes the Austrians look sloppy and disorganised. They even keep the hive at precisely 35C on hot days by stationing themselves at key points in the structure and beating their wings. But not too much, as this dries the air, and they know honey can be made only if the moisture content in there is 17%.
Ah yes, honey. The superfood to beat all superfoods. Hilariously, commercial beekeepers are told by the government's food standards people that they must put a "best before" date on their jars. My Ukrainian friend Victor is getting some labels printed that say"best before the end of days".
But he'd still be wrong. Because honey never goes off, ever. They could have buried a rack of it with Tutankhamun and it would still be as delicious today as it was then.
I read about bees solidly for a week and worked out they were definitely the inspiration for the Borg in Star Trek. So then I had to watch that. And afterwards I realised I still didn't know what I was supposed to be checking for on my visits to the hives.
So Victor came back to explain. Like Morgan Freeman, he doesn't wear any protective clothing. Morgan says that if you are on the bees' wavelength, they won't sting you. Victor says he is stung all the time and doesn't mind. I, meanwhile, was dressed up like Neil Armstrong.
We opened the first hive, and I'm going to be honest: I was staggered. Weak-kneed with amazement and joy. I'd read that in its entire six-week life a bee will only make a twelfth of a teaspoon of honey, and that to make 1lb it would have to travel 90,000 miles. Which is why, after just three weeks, I wasn't expecting much.
But just the top drawer of one hive was so heavy I could barely lift it. With Victor pumping smoke into the swarm to keep it calm — I don't understand that either — I pulled out a single frame from the drawer, or "super", as it's called, and there was easily 2lb of honey in there. This meant 20lb in that drawer alone. And there were four drawers and five hives. So 400lb of honey. And they'd done all that in 21 days. As well as making all the honeycomb and producing enough wax to polish the floor of a Scottish castle.
I then learnt I had to examine the honeycomb for unusual developments. It turns out that this is impossible, mainly because one unusual development looks exactly the same as all the others. We were hunting for evidence that another queen was about to be born, which would cause half the colony to swarm, which is a polite way of saying "bugger off". I couldn't even find the existing queen. Victor said she looked completely different from all the others, but when he located her, it turned out she wasn't completely different at all. A Volkswagen and a pencil are completely different. She was just a bit bigger and whoa… As I examined her, one of her workers had noticed there was a 2mm gap between the bottom of my spacesuit and the top of my shoe. It was quite literally my Achilles' heel and she'd dived in there for a kamikaze attack.
A honeybee does not last long after she has stung something because, to get free, she has to pull her own arse off. So why had she stung me? I have no idea.
What I did know is that the scent of her poison sent the entire 250,000-strong army into a frenzy. As I hopped towards the car for cover, whimpering gently, my documentary cameraman was stung twice in the face and the director got one in the nostril. And now, three days later, I still can't really think straight because my foot hurts so much.
It's a price worth paying, though, partly because I'm now an eco-warrior, but also because since I started eating all the honey my bees made, I haven't had any hay fever at all.
I've also learnt how to stack a dishwasher properly and how to say "no" to a second glass of wine. I may wash my car later and tidy my bedroom. Resistance is futile.
If Harry can't tell his past from his elbow, he shouldn't enter the Commonwealth shames
By Jeremy Clarkson (Sunday Times, July 12)
The statesman and philanthropist Prince Harry has released footage from a Zoom call in which he explains that the Commonwealth must face up to the past, no matter how uncomfortable that might be. As I'd always imagined the Commonwealth was a sort of club that organised a fun sports day every four years for countries that needed a nice old lady to put on their banknotes, I couldn't imagine what terrible crimes it had committed. So I did a spot of research.
And it was like looking into the history of Stow-on-the-Wold's jam-making society. Literally nothing has happened, which is quite an achievement, since it counts as members nearly a third of the world's population and covers 20% of the planet's land mass.
It was first talked about in 1884 and held its first meeting in 1887. But it didn't actually begin until 1911. Then it began again in 1917, 1919 and once more in 1921. People liked the idea of such a thing, but it's obvious they didn't know what it would do. Rules were drawn up in 1926, and then, after a period of inactivity, it got going again in 1931, 1942 and 1947. In 1949, Ireland left. Left what? It's not entirely clear.
In 1953, Mrs Queen spoke about the Commonwealth in her Christmas message, saying it was an organisation for nations that valued friendship, loyalty and the desire for freedom and peace. And just 18 short years later, all this was ratified by a treaty drawn up over a few agreeable gin slings in Singapore. Finally, the Commonwealth was up and running.
Except for one small thing. They'd obviously had so many gin slings that no one noticed the constitution forbade the Commonwealth to enforce any of its rules. Which is probably why one member, Britain, was allowed to join another trade organisation, called the Common Market.
In later years the Commonwealth set about tackling climate change and other environmental issues, with no success at all, and almost 40 of its member states still ban homosexuality. It even did a big report on forced marriage, but no recommendations have been implemented. And the report was never released.
It seems, then, the Commonwealth is an extremely progressive organisation that's keen to do important work on transgenderists and racial inequalities, but it never appears to get anywhere. Perhaps this is because the ultimate sanction is suspension, and that doesn't seem to make much difference. Before it was suspended for four years, Nigeria did a lot of trade with India, and afterwards it did a lot of trade with India.
It's hard to see why Harry has got his knickers in a twist about a well-meaning organisation that hasn't hurt so much as a fly in more than a hundred years. I fear that he perhaps got muddled and was in fact talking about the empire.
Now that is a different kettle of fish. That did a lot, and I'm sure Harry, like everyone else under the age of about 35, reckons that all of it was bad. It opened fire on unarmed civilians in India, it stole land, it raped, it pillaged. It was evil, with a waxed moustache.
Or was it? In 1807, Britain abolished the slave trade, and if it had been the evil monster history would have us believe, it would have stopped there. But it did not. It decided that no country was going to profit from the sale of human beings, and that this rule would be enforced with cannon fire if necessary.
Unlike the Commonwealth, which has all sorts of noble goals and well-intentioned meetings that achieve exactly nothing, the empire had a lot of gunboats and was prepared to use them. So it dispatched HMS Do You Want Some and HMS Did You Spill My Pint to the west coast of Africa to stop any ship suspected of carrying slaves and fine the captain £100 for every enslaved soul found on board.
Slavers responded in the same way as people smugglers respond today. When they saw a Royal Navy ship approaching, they brought the slaves up from below and threw them overboard, still in irons. So navy officers were ordered to arrest any captain and seize any ship that so much as looked as if it was designed to carry slaves. This was a battle Britain was not taking lightly.
Soon it transpired that two ships weren't enough to deal with the French and the Spanish and the Brazilians, so the fleet was beefed up. A lot. At its peak there were 25 vessels in the so-called West Africa Squadron, which, over a period of 60 years, captured 1,600 slave ships and freed 150,000 slaves, at the cost of a thousand British lives. It's possible that children are not taught about this in schools today.
If they were, I should imagine their teachers would argue that Britain only went international on the matter because, if it wasn't making money from human trafficking across the Atlantic, it saw no reason anyone else should. Britain was evil, remember.
Really? So why did the empire also go after the Arab slave-traders in the Indian Ocean? Spurred on by accounts from explorers such as David Livingstone, Britain waged one hell of a war — diplomatically, at sea and on land — until eventually the practice was stopped.
So, yes, Harry, if we look back into the history of Britain, and in particular its empire, there will be moments of shame and discomfort. But there will also be moments of pride and joy. Even the BBC acknowledges: "The Royal Navy's role in the suppression of the trans-oceanic slave trades represents a remarkable episode of sustained humanitarian activity."
The 19th-century Irish historian William Lecky goes even further, saying: "The unweary, unostentatious and inglorious crusade of England against slavery may probably be regarded as among the three or four perfectly virtuous pages comprised in the history of nations."
And here's the Sun column: "A 747 jumbo jet is amazing…I can’t believe that it’s Boeing, Boeing gone"
The Glass Key 1942 movie trailer film noir Plot: A crooked politician finds himself being accused of murder by a gangster from whom he refused help during a re-election campaign.
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