The Brits are nothing if not traditionalists. Take one of the primest examples of their fidelity to tradition – royalty! Putting aside the interregnum of the Cromwellian Commonwealth (1649-1660) as an aberration, the people of GB have faithfully stuck with the monarchy as the preferred form of rule for the long haul. Kings or queens have ruled Britain, or at least England, since the Anglo-Saxon King Egbert unified various regions of England and Wales around 830 to be recognised with the title Bretwalda (“ruler of the British/Anglo-Saxons”) [‘Kings and Queens of England & Britain’, (Ben Johnson), Historic UK, www.historic-uk.com].
Despite the small island in the North-eastern Atlantic not having been the most ‘united’ of kingdoms of late (witness Brexit, Scottish secessionist moves, etc), the British monarchy still possesses a very healthy pulse indeed. There remains a British queen, though now a nonegenerian, one with a clearly defined line of succession to follow her. The contemporary Windsors seem determined to uphold the prediction of Egyptian king, Farouk I, who upon being deposed from the Alawiyya dynastic throne in 1952, remarked with graveyard humour: “Soon there will be only five kings left…the king of spades, the king of clubs, the king of hearts, the king of diamonds…and the king of England!”
So given that Britain has the stability of a long-reigning queen and the institution of monarchy is firmly rooted in Anglo-Celtic soil, then it should not really come as a surprise to discover that the queen retains a team of “secret mission” messengers who are at her beck and call 24/7. The title queen’s (or king’s) messenger does have an anachronistic ring to it – when you conjure up images of darkly-clad couriers (perhaps spies), secretly scurrying from castle to castle across Medieval Europe on royal business.
A long tradition of HM service
The role of messengers as part of the English monarch’s contact network appears to stretch back a whole millennium. The 13th century monarch, King John, younger brother of the more flamboyantly heroic Richard the Lion-Heart, apparently used his messengers for less orthodox missions (such as transporting part of the dismembered body of Norwich traitor Henry Roper). The earliest recorded King’s Messenger was one John Norman, appointed by Richard III in 1485 to deliver his private letters [Marco Giannangeli, ‘Queen’s Messengers face the axe, heroes who resisted all tyrants, honeytraps and pirates’, Daily Express (UK), 05-Dec-2015, www.dailyexpress.co.uk].
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‘Silver Greyhounds’
The royal messengers are colloquially known as “silver greyhounds”, a name bestowed on them by the Stuart king Charles II who to aid their identification at their scheduled destinations, gave each of his messengers one greyhound figurine which he had broken off from a silver breakfast platter [’The Silver Greyhound – The Messenger Service’, (Keith Mitchell), 25-Mar-2014, (History of government blog), www.history.blog.gov.uk ]. These days the tradition continues with the appointed QMs being issued with silver greyhound badges or tie-clips.
After the establishment of the British Foreign Office in 1782, the role of the King’s Messenger took on an enhanced importance, and from 1795 with the resumption of war with France, a greater hazard for the couriers. Journeying through enemy France on secret mission was especially frought with danger for the messenger…one such silver greyhound, Andrew Basilico, when caught by the French, had the foresight to eat the part of the paper containing the covert message to ensure the integrity of the message [‘Queen’s Messenger’, Wikipedia, http://en.m.wikipedia.org].
In the 19th century royal messengers could claim expenses for their journeys on behalf of the Crown. Some canny messengers supplemented their earnings on the side by selling the empty seat in their carriage (a practice the government tried – albeit unsuccessfully – to outlaw in the 1830s) [Mitchell, loc.cit.].
In the 20th century with East-West political tensions on the rise, KMs and QMs continued to play an important role against a backdrop of tense Cold War espionage encounters. George Courtauld, a retired silver greyhound, in his memoirs recounts some of the hazards of smuggling the confidential messages of Queen Elizabeth through communist countries, including the tricky business of dealing with Eastern Bloc “femme fatales” (the ‘honeypots’) [Giannangeli, loc.cit.].
A QM vade mecum: apparently the book of choice for aspiring King’s and Queen’s Messengers in the 20th century (Courtauld) ⇩
The modern day Queen’s Messenger
QMs (officially in Whitehall protocol known as the Corps of Queen’s Messengers) in Britain today are employed by the British Foreign and Commonwealth Office (FCO). Despite the glamourous image of the world of international spies, as portrayed in popular culture, today’s QMs live a decidedly “un-James Bondian” lifestyle, no luxury accommodation in the Bahamas, no first-class travel, nor the trappings, thrills and supposed sexual exploits of jet-setting secret agents!
A peak under the dusty sheets of the service
The QMs Corps, as with all “cloak and dagger” official organisations with a culture of high security, functions on a “need-to-know” basis. A 2015 Freedom of Information request to Whitehall did shed some light (but no insights into the inner workings) of the obscure world of QMs. The FCO communique revealed that the QMs dress in plain clothing and are not particularly well remunerated, being paid at only C4 officer scale (£25,200-£33,250); at that time the QMs were 18 in number and all males in the age range 40 to 70✴. The FCO in true intelligence protocol would “neither confirm or deny” if QMs were armed✲. The requisite skill-sets of QMs stated in the document include the capacity to travel on short notice; work overseas for extended periods; work independently or within a team; think quickly on one’s feet; and remaining calm under pressure (occasionally extreme pressure)⌽ [FCO written reply, FOI Ref: 0315-15 (27 April 2015), http://assets.publishing.service.gov.uk].
‘Queens Messenger’ (2001): a modern attempt to use the QM motif to make a James Bond style post-Cold War action flick ⇩
Is there still a role for the Queen’s Messenger in the 21st century?
The “hands-on”, person-to-person couriering of QMs seem out of place in the world of modern state communications, a “snail mail” approach compared to the instantaneous transference of information via electronic platforms. Unsurprising then, that in recent times, whenever a critical eye is routinely turned to British government spending, the microscope fixes its gaze on the QM service – which thus far survives despite seeming to habitually “fac(e) the chop (from) cost-cutting Foreign Office mandarins…(viewed as a) “legacy of a by-gone age” [Giannangeli, op.cit.].
An uncertain new world of unsecured information
The mechanism of modernity, those same communication innovations of the online world also create the very justification for the continuance of the QM service. Today we are awash with online crime, cyber-hacking, code-breaking and security interceptions by groups like Wikileaks. In such an environment Buckingham Palace is faced with a choice – trust those who you trust, the loyal silver greyhound retainer, or take the odds on the random anonymity of the vast, ungovernable cyberspace. On an ad hoc basis the royals will continue to find merit in relying on QMs, “safe-hands” who can get the task done seamlessly, rather than always leaving it to the quicker but potentially more chancy method of transferring the message electronically [ibid.].
Footnote: the official case carried by the silver greyhound, presumably containing “the message”, has its own diplomatic passport and therefore cannot be opened, x-rayed or inspected by airport staff when transiting customs – although the QM himself and his personal luggage are subject to the normal airport procedures [‘Her Majesty Queen’s Messengers – History and Current Status’, (Passport-collector.com, 22-Mar-2016), www.passport-collector.com]
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✴ in the main, in practice QMs tend to be men and recruited from the ranks of retired army or police officers
✲ these days QMs almost certainly would never carry guns on missions. Apocryphal or not, it has been suggested that the greyhounds are however ‘armed’ with an excellent, aged bottle of Scotch on their travels [Giannangeli, op.cit.]
⌽ QMs receive core training which comprises induction, mentoring, security, IT and SAFE training
Source: art.com
Alfred’s hitch in making ‘Hamlet’
The final project pursued by Hitchcock was ”The Short Night”—based on a novel of the same name by Ronald Kirkbride and on the exploits of real-life double agent George Blake—which was to be Hitchcock’s red-hot crack at making a “realistic Bond movie”. In an interview with John Russell Taylor for Sight and Sound Hitchcock outlined the story’s great allure for him: ”It’s a situation that fascinates me: the man falls in love with the wife of a man he’s waiting to kill. It’s like a French farce turned inside-out. If he sees a boat coming across the bay with the husband on it, he can’t hop out of the back window, he has to wait and do what he has to do. And of course he can’t take the wife, who loves him, into his confidence. And so the whole romance is overshadowed by this secret, which gives it a special flavour and atmosphere. That’s what I want to convey”.
Poster for the movie that never materialised
(Photo: Britannica)
In his lifetime Fleming never said definitively who the principal model for 007 was, but the consensus seems to gravitate towards a Serbian double agent Dušan (‘Duško) Popov, someone Fleming came across in the course of his own intelligence career. A famous scene in Casino Royale (Fleming’s first James Bond novel) further advances the association of the world’s most celebrated fictional spy with Popov. Bond’s besting of a powerful Russian criminal at the baccarat table in Casino Estoril (Portugal) in the book/film mirrors an exchange Fleming observed first-hand when the real-life spy spectacularly called the bluff of a boastful Lithuanian gambler in a baccarat game at the same location.
Popov stumbled into the espionage game after being arrested by the Gestapo. To get out of that pickle Popov agreed to spy for the Abwehr (German intelligence agency). While in England he was recruited by MI6 and turned double agent✫. During the war Popov managed to feed a steady stream of misinformation to the Nazis about the Allies’ movements, strength, etc. Most productive for the Allies was his role in Operation Fortitude – Popov helped to convince German military planners that the D-Day invasion of France would occur in Pas de Calais, not Normandy, the actual landing point. As a consequence of Popov’s disinformation, when Operation Overlord was launched in 1944 there were seven German divisions stuck in Calais and unavailable to the Reichswehr in Normandy [‘My name is Popov, Duran Popov’, (Marta Levai), www.0011info.com].
(Image: Getty)
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