I am most definitely and emphatically NOT pretentious. I may be a student at one of the most determinedly traditional universities in the world, and I may, when saying “bath”, linger so obsessively on the “a” that it sounds as if there is a sheep stuck in the middle of it, but so what? I mean, please … Pretentious? Moi?!

All silliness aside, what does it really mean to be pretentious? Must we define pretentiousness with such unforgiving words as “arrogance” and “deceitfulness”, or can we argue that today the concept of pretentiousness has mellowed, instead becoming a label which is flung condescendingly but not maliciously in the general direction of Downton Abbey viewers or hand-on-heart National Anthem singers? The big question, then, is what is pretentiousness, and must we, as members of the British public, admit to it?

In 2011 we celebrated the Royal Wedding. At the time, I was working as an au-pair in Germany, and I was desperate not to miss a single moment of this royal fairy-tale.  I asked my guest-mother whether I could pick her child up early from Kindergarten, so that we would be back in time for the beginning of the BBC’s coverage. She looked at me as if to say “du hast sie nicht alle” (you’re out of your mind), but she consented, because, I suspect, she felt it would be gracious to oblige another of my apparently charming, but nevertheless incomprehensible English eccentricities. The English: they are, after all, “die Insel Affen” (the island apes), and they must have their little rituals. Looking back on my behaviour (not to mention the behaviour of many others who called in sick - not at all suspiciously of course - on the big day), I must admit that there is something just a little bit pretentious about it.  Not self-important or false exactly, but rather ridiculous in a harmless sort of way.

Another big event came in the form of the final series of Downton Abbey. And don’t try to tell me that this was hardly an “event”, because it most definitely was. In fact, ITV did everything within its power to make absolutely sure that Mr. Fellowes’ brainchild was the biggest event of the year. Today, for a television programme to be successful, it has to tick certain boxes. Constant action? Tick. Bouts of violence? Tick. Brazen sex appeal? Tick. So why, then, is Period Drama, with its dearth of both physical contact and of anything which by today’s standards might reasonably be defined as “action”, still hugely popular?  Surely this paradoxical love of Downton Abbey is the result of a pretentious urge, the urge to identify with the habits and the mannerisms of a nostalgic (and deeply idealised) past.  And so we can claim that the concept of pretention has become diluted: today it has much more to do with nostalgia than it does with hypocrisy.

Thus must our conclusion be that we, with our collection of commemorative Royal Wedding crockery and our Period Drama fetish, are pretentious? Don’t even get me started on the raptures that we went into on watching the Queen parachute into the Olympic Stadium, or on that deplorable sense of self-importance that I feel when striding off to dinner with my gown billowing out behind me… And so we stand guilty as charged. We, the right honourable British public, are pretentious. Who’d have thought it! But allow me to plead this mitigation: today, our pretentiousness seems to have mellowed, becoming a foible rather than a fault. Perhaps the best way to describe it would be as follows: pretentiousness has become the sort of slightly shameful impulse which might prompt a prospective student to apply to Oxbridge, not because of the merits of a particular course, but because of the prospect of titled Alumni, of “vacations” opposed to “holidays”, and of the possibility of finding out that the boy in the room next door has a teddy bear called Aloysius.

Support Varsity

Varsity is the independent newspaper for the University of Cambridge, established in its current form in 1947. In order to maintain our editorial independence, our print newspaper and news website receives no funding from the University of Cambridge or its constituent Colleges.

We are therefore almost entirely reliant on advertising for funding and we expect to have a tough few months and years ahead.

In spite of this situation, we are going to look at inventive ways to look at serving our readership with digital content and of course in print too!

Therefore we are asking our readers, if they wish, to make a donation from as little as £1, to help with our running costs. Many thanks, we hope you can help!