I myself am the pedestal for this ugly hump at which you stare*

The editor has complained to Lady Bracknell that she can tolerate the unpleasant visual assault from the photograph in the previous post no longer. Out of concern for both the editor and this blog's potential readers, therefore, Lady Bracknell has determined to write about the phenomenon of the Bracknell Hump.

(She feels it would be wise at this juncture to pre-empt the disingenuous questions which Marmite Boy and Boogaloo Dude would undoubtedly be tempted to submit via the comments facility. No, the Bracknell Hump is not a description of her ladyship in wrathful mode. Nor - let us be clear from the outset - would it be A Good Idea to subvert the term to serve to describe that state. Punishments for infractions of this rule will be swift and devastating. They might, in the case of the Dude, extend as far as withdrawal of soup privileges.)

The Bracknell Hump is an inherited minor deformity at the top of the spine. Lady Bracknell's esteemed father is similarly afflicted. (Close followers of social mores will have realised immediately that, as the deformity is inherited from the paternal line, and Lady Bracknell is a widow, the term "Bracknell Hump" must be a misnomer. That is certainly very clever of them, but they are mistaken if they expect to be able to use that perspicacity to trick Lady Bracknell into revealing the true identity of her esteemed parents. For the purposes of this blog entry, the Hump will take her ladyship's married name.)

The Bracknell Hump is not particularly disfiguring. It does not cause pain. It is probably not even immediately apparent to the casual observer. Lady Bracknell has no great objection to having inherited distinguishing physical characteristics from either side of the family: it would not do if we all looked alike.

However, the Hump creates one specific irritation which is that the necklines of garments absolutely will not adhere to its delineaments. Thus, not only do hemlines refuse to hang in the nice straight line which their designers intended, but all who bear the Hump run the constant risk of being strangled by their own clothes. Garments initially displaying an enticing hint of décolletage demonstrate a most deplorable tendency to convert themselves into polo-necked sweaters as the day progresses. Bearers of the Bracknell Hump spend their entire lives rearranging their clothing in a battle to alleviate the sensation of choking.


*Although nothing in this entry is untrue, Lady Bracknell would be hard pressed indeed to refute any suggestions that she composed it for the sole purpose of justifying using a quotation from the inimitable Leonard Cohen in the title.