Wiktionary
n. printing type cast from molten metal; hot metal typesetting.
Wikipedia
Hot Metal (1986–88) is a London Weekend Television sitcom about the British Newspaper industry.
In the show, The Daily Crucible, the dullest newspaper in Fleet Street, is suddenly taken over by media magnate Terence "Twiggy" Rathbone ( Robert Hardy). Its editor Harry Stringer ( Geoffrey Palmer) is 'promoted' to managing editor, and is replaced in his old job by Russell Spam (also played by Hardy). Spam then takes the paper shooting downmarket and turns the Crucible into a sensation seeking scandal rag, very much in the style of the British tabloids of the 1980s. He is helped along by his ace gutter journalist, Greg Kettle (Richard Kane), who intimidates his tabloid victims by claiming to be "a representative of Her Majesty's press" and produces stories such as accusing a vicar of being a werewolf. Throughout the first series, a running plot involved cub reporter Bill Tytla ( John Gordon Sinclair) gradually uncovering an actual newsworthy story that went to the very heart of government. (Tytla appears to be named after animator Vladimir "Bill" Tytla.)
Written by David Renwick and Andrew Marshall, it is very much a continuation in style from their previous sitcom Whoops Apocalypse!. It was produced by Humphrey Barclay.
Usage examples of "hot metal".
He swallows, trying to get the odor of hot metal off his tongue and out of his throat, then walks toward the yard.
On your way, you must find hot metal to fill your own little belly and cold flight-mass to drive you.
He could smell the clean hot scent of burning charcoal from the big shed up ahead of them, hot metal, sneeze-making cinders, the heavy frying smell of the oil bath used for quenching and tempering.
Where the copper flowed it merely glowed, but where it poured it spattered dazzling droplets of white hot metal.
Splintered teeth and bones of normals joined hot metal shell fragments to pierce and rend.
Justen slumped against the hot metal of the launcher frame, not sure which was worst-the dizziness, the nausea, or the splitting headache.
Inside, the air smelled of hot metal, forge coals, and sweat-of burned impurities, scalded quench steam, and oil.
To keep a watch, especially a watch on the bridge, was torture: the first shock of that bitter wind seared the lungs, left a man fighting for breath: if he had forgotten to don gloves-first the silk gloves, then the woollen mittens, then the sheepskin gauntlets-and touched a handrail, the palms of the hands seared off, the skin burnt as by white-hot metal: on the bridge, if he forgot to duck when the bows smashed down into a trough, the flying spray, solidified in a second into hurtling slivers of ice, lanced cheek and forehead open to the bone: hands froze, the very marrow of the bones numbed, the deadly chill crept upwards from feet to calves to thighs, nose and chin turned white with frostbite and demanded immediate attention: and then, by far the worst of all, the end of the watch, the return below deck, the writhing, excruciating agony of .
Still, Roland liked riding in it, because the inside smelled like hot metal and sweat, and he could think of no better warhorse for a King&rsquo.