There’s the occasional housewife or shoe shop clerk to interview and, of course, the furiously messed up drug-addict nightclub singer Elsa (who, of course, becomes Cole’s mistress, although how or why is never really made clear). Centre stage is given to the men, to Cole and his colleagues, while the women are just the extras, looking on while the important men do important men things. Women are periphery. They’re background noise.

As, unfortunately, was the case in the US circa 1947. Honestly, it’s almost as if these people ask stupid questions without putting in any forethought, nor bothering to do any actual research!

There’s an old joke about IGN and spelling that eludes me right now.