1927. Okay, boys, here’s the pitch: we’ll have a grumpy king who looks like his 'roids are about the size of a spare tire, and he’ll represent our product, ‘cause we’re the King of Radios or Monarch or Duke of Tubes, something like that. Got it? Okay, and then we’ll have this hotcha Injun maiden bowing down to the King, even though as far as we can tell there were never any buckskin-clad Injun dames in the same vicinity as your kings in ermine, but who gives a crap. Sound good? Have Johnson draw it up, then.