Walter Humes

Jack's sensible buttocks

I was intrigued to learn, from Jack McLean's article (SR 165) on his physical characteristics as a small man, that he has 'sensible buttocks'. It seemed an unlikely epithet to apply to the nether regions. It made me wonder what 'foolhardy' buttocks might get up to. Plonk themselves down on a royal throne? Wiggle contemptuously at the television screen whenever a particularly loathsome celebrity appears? I shall have to keep an eye on my own buttocks in the future in case they are tempted to misbehave. A career as a contortionist beckons.
     I was prompted to reflect further on combinations of adjectives and bodily parts. Some are unproblematic. Knees, for example, are always 'knobbly'. 'Non-knobbly' knees would be regarded as an aberration. Some cases are gender specific – or, at least, are intended to be. A 'well-turned' ankle, if applied to a man, might raise a 'quizzical' eyebrow, and lead to an unworthy temptation to check out whether his wrist was 'limp'. Equally, most women would not be too pleased if they were said to have a 'manly' chest. 'Thundering' thighs might be taken as a compliment by both sexes, though in most cases an element of self-deluding fantasy would be involved in the attribution.
     Some descriptions allow for more than one interpretation. A 'polished' nose might signify someone of aristocratic demeanour, inclined to look down the human proboscis at other mortals. However it might simply mean 'shiny' – handy in the run-up to Christmas (look out Rudolf). More damagingly, it could serve as euphemistic code for a tendency to consume too much alcohol.
     In a lively exchange of banter, I was once accused of having a 'brass' neck. Moi? Hard to believe, I know. It was the height of summer and a male colleague appeared in a rather flashy outfit which conjured up an image of ice cream and fruit. 'My goodness, Michael,' I said, 'you're an absolute vision in apricot'. He countered by pointing out that the shirt I was wearing didn't even have a breast pocket. 'I'll have you know', I retorted, 'that this was made by a London shirtmaker and it even has its own brass collar stiffeners'. At which point Michael won game, set and match by remarking 'To go with your brass neck, I suppose'. This is a good instance of an adjectival attribution to a bodily part that goes beyond mere physical description to imply an element – usually a defect – of character. Other examples might include 'intrusive' elbows and 'eavesdropping' ears.
     Writers of fiction constantly strive, with varying degrees of success, to find original ways of describing their characters’ appearance. In second-rate crime fiction, the eyes of the villains are always 'cold', 'grey' or 'dead', while those of the good guys are 'bright', 'honest' or 'mischievous'. In romantic novels cheek-bones have to be 'high', jaws 'resolute' and hair 'luxuriant'. One longs for heroes and heroines who fall short of bodily perfection like the rest of us. But I suppose there is a limited market for bald, slightly overweight men in their sixties. Note the defensiveness of that adverb 'slightly'.
     Jack McLean's example should encourage us all to be more adventurous in our choice of adjectives. Why can't we have 'baroque' noses, 'maladroit' mouths and 'juggernaut' chins, instead of the usual tired clichés? Quite apart from their inherent interest, such formulations might help to dispel the unsettling mental image of Jack's 'sensible' buttocks.