THE day formerly known as Wednesday seems to have undergone some sort of weird transformation, and I just don't get it.

No longer content with merely labelling it is as the good, old fashioned midweek it has now become the rather awkward sounding 'hump day'.

Such is the euphoria surrounding the day, people gleefully take to every form of social media on the planet to herald the arrival of the wondrous creature that is hump day.

They bellow their love for the momentous occasion, which is supposed to be the gateway to the weekend, in idiotic fashion, proclaiming it as some sort of watershed moment that has the power to suddenly make the routine of the week insignificant. 'Never fear, hump day is here' is almost their championing cry.

Sadly it doesn't have a super power that can cure all your woes - it just sounds like the action of mating season on the Discovery Channel.

While the new wave of hump day celebrators are popping champagne corks at noon on Wednesday to mark the grand occasion that you have exactly the same amount of time left in the week as you have already experienced, I'm left with odd images in my head.

What if Wednesdays actually had humps like camels? Would they be more fun if they did?

I'd probably be more willing to get excited about them if that was the case.

Call me cynical, but I thought the gateway to the weekend was 5.30pm on a Friday - that is a point in the week which is worth celebrating after spending five days working hard for the reward of Saturday and Sunday (days which seem retained their original names).

In my daily routine I am more likely to get animated about a tea round or the very welcome times cakes, sweets or biscuits are brought into my field of vision.

Noon on a Wednesday is the epitome of middle-of-the-road drudgery or like finding yourself stranded in Nowhereville when you want to be kicking back on the beach or sat in a sun drenched beer garden.

It overwhelms me with its nothingness So, at this time tomorrow, take a moment to scour the world wide web for mentions of hump day and secretly, silently resent that person for falling into the trap of perpetuating a made up celebration of vague, aimless nonsense.

It is much like the concept of people anticipating and event or particular date by counting down the number of 'sleeps' until it comes around.

What next, telling the time in angles rather than hours, minutes and seconds?