大象传媒

Simon Brett wrestles with a personal demon that could lead to trouble...

I have a problem with humming. No, I don't mean body odour. I'm talking about the old hmmm hmmm hmmm hhmm. You know, those little semi-musical noises we're all prone to at moments of relaxation or boredom or embarrassment. And I think part of the trouble is, I don't know when I'm doing it.

It's what I hum that worries me. Not just because like everyone else I get caught in cycles of infuriatingly catchy things like the Archers' sig and the William Tell overture. My problem is that I often unconsciously hum music whose lyrics have pertinence to the situation I'm in. I remember once going away with my wife Lucy when a slight frost had settled between us, and I spent the whole weekend humming a current Cliff Richard hit, "Ain't it funny, we don't talk any more." There are plenty of social and business occasions which could be threatened by my condition for which I'm sure the proper psychological term is Involuntary Humming Syndrome. Imagine being at a boring dinner party and humming "We Gotta Get Out Of This Place" or "Do you Really Want to Hurt Me" at the dentist, or "Gypsies,Tramps and Thieves" if you're an immigration officer, or "Part of the Union" at a New Labour party conference.

Actually, I do have a let out in this business of Involuntary Humming Syndrome. You see, however embarrassingly subliminal tunes I'm humming may be, I'm so un-musical that I don't think anyone would ever recognise any of them. Phew! 听

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