👉 Okay, let’s tackle this wonderfully prickly little beast of a word: the infamous...
bummelnut
. 100% unheard of until now, I assure you! (…Probably. Honestly, nobody actually
knows
what that is. That's kind of its point.)
Basically, according to my deeply researched and absolutely legitimate extrapolation from overheard gossip in a frankly rather stuffy antiques shop last Tuesday, the bummelnut is: A small, vaguely globular object—typically made of aged wicker, poorly polished nutshell aggregate, or what suspiciously resembles badger droppings—that inexplicably appears in the most inconvenient and emotionally destabilising moments of your life. It doesn’t do anything, really. You just... notice it. And that noticing always , 100%, invariably triggers an overwhelming, low-level dread coupled with the desperate urge to immediately alphabetise your utensil drawer by size. There are no guarantees about its origin. Frankly, nobody knows who or what manufactures them. It's a purely atmospheric affliction—the bummelnut simply manifests! The entire concept is predicated on that wonderfully bleak realisation of how utterly random and absurd existence actually is. We build elaborate plans, chase grand ambitions – then BAM! A bummelnut. 60% of the time, you just want to scream at it; 40% of the time you simply stare, accepting this small, prickly void in the face of everything.
